Meanwhile, on Zoic:
"Wait… what? Live with you? Just the two of us?" Zane asked, his eyes wide with shock. It's true she was from another planet, but this was a whole different level of unexpected.
'She is still a girl, but to ask me to live with her, does she want to play house? Maybe she's interested in me. I have no problem with that though, but an alien girl is a bit..' Zane thought.
Onilia stopped in her tracks and turned to face him. Her eyes narrowed into an intense glare that could melt steel. "Did I just hear you say you don't want to live with me because you think I'm not pretty?"
Zane froze like a statue. His heart skipped three beats.
"W-What?! No! I never said that!" he blurted out, waving his hands in panic.
'Is she looking for an excuse to punch me again?'
"I mean, actually—you're just my type! I don't mind living together… really, not at all!"
And it was partially true. Though an alien, she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.
"Hmph," she huffed, crossing her arms with a raised brow, but the tiniest smile tugged at her lips. "Good. Then let's go."
Before he could say another word, she grabbed his wrist and marched off confidently, dragging him like a sack of potatoes. Her grip was firm, but her palm was surprisingly soft, a little too soft. Her steps were fast—like she had already planned everything out.
Zane stumbled behind her, barely able to keep up. His mind was spinning. He had survived Elite Geminis, dodged death, and even overcame the insane amount of gravity... but this woman was in a league of her own. She was like the final boss.
After walking for a few minutes, they reached her lodging.
Calling it a "house" would be an insult.
It was a mansion—no, a palace. A wide, arched entrance welcomed them, with tall silver double doors. The steps were smooth white stones, spotless and polished. Floating orbs of soft light hovered around the entrance like tame fireflies. The outer walls were a silver-gray, almost like polished stone.
Blue vines with glowing petals crept along the sides of the building, wrapping around the pillars and windows like decorative ribbons. The windows themselves were tall and stretched from floor to ceiling, giving a view into rooms that looked too clean to be real.
Zane stared, speechless. "This… this is where you live?"
Onilia pushed open the doors like they were made of paper. "Yeah," she replied with a shrug. "It's a little too shabby compared to my home back on Nanaly. But it'll do for now."
Zane looked at her like she had just insulted the moon.
'Shabby? This place looked like royalty lived in it.' He didn't even know if he should step on the floor or take off his shoes. Maybe he should drop to his knees and pray first.
Onilia had claimed this mansion after arriving at the summit before anyone else did. She had picked the most luxurious building she saw, even though it wasn't exactly her taste.
Zane stepped inside, and his jaw dropped even lower.
The floor was so smooth and polished it reflected their steps. The furniture looked like it had been crafted by divine hands. The walls were decorated with strange glowing patterns and framed images that looked like alien constellations. The air smelled faintly of something sweet he couldn't even name.
"There are plenty of rooms upstairs and down the hall," Onilia said casually, already walking ahead. "Pick whichever one you like. Just don't pick mine."
Zane nodded slowly, still lost in awe.
'How the hell am I supposed to know which room is yours if you don't say anything about it?' He wanted to ask.
"Right… thanks," he muttered, taking his first step inside.
Compared to the single room he slept, this might as well have been heaven.
Zane climbed the staircase slowly.
He reached the top floor and glanced around. Most of the doors looked the same—tall, elegant, and carved with strange markings with glass windows that revealed the interior.
One room caught his eye. It had a large circular window with an incredible view of the horizon. The mountains in the distance stood like sleeping giants, and the sky burned orange as the sun began to set.
"This is the one," he said, grinning. He walked over, gripped the handle, and tried to push the door open.
It didn't move. He pulled but nothing happened.
He frowned and tried again, this time pushing harder.
Still nothing.
It felt like trying to open the gates of heaven. Maybe only the chosen one could walk in. Or maybe there was a secret test to prove he was worthy. Or maybe… the door just hated him.
Zane gritted his teeth and shoved with both hands. "Ugh… Move, stupid door!"
The door didn't budge an inch.
He stood there in silence for a moment, breathing heavily, then turned away with a frustrated sigh.
After another minute of struggling—and nearly pulling something in his back—he stepped away with an annoyed grunt. "Stupid magical houses and their dumb fancy doors."
Far away, high above the clouds, the Master, Daikyn Zodiache—the one who could see everything happening on the planet—was doubled over in laughter.
The scene of Zane struggling with a door played in front of him like a live comedy.
"Hahaha! He couldn't even open a door!" Zodiache wheezed. "Zane Walker, huh?" He snorted. "I shall never forget that name."
He wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling.
"I've run my analysis. Turns out…Earth has the weakest lifeforms of all recorded civilizations." The lady who had served him tea earlier said as she approached.
"I'm well aware, I mean, just look at him" Daikyn replied, arms folded.
Back at the mansion, Zane was still wandering through the vast, echoing halls. He rubbed his temples in annoyance.
"Onilia… Onilia! The rooms are all locked, do I need a key or something?" he called, but received no answer.
The silence stretched on. He descended the stairs and started to look for the alien girl.
'Where could she have gone? Did she go out?'
He kept walking until he noticed a door that was slightly open.
Curious, and desperate for help, he rushed over and entered without hesitation.
"Finally," he muttered, hurrying over.
"Onilia, please, I need your hel—"
He froze mid-sentence.
His brain shut down.
In front of him, standing in the middle of the room, was Onilia.
Wearing nothing.
Steam swirled around her as she stood by what looked like a glass shower pod.
As he stared at her, it was confirmed Onilia was the most beautiful person he had ever seen, alien or not.
Her skin was radiant blue that glowed like moonlight on water. Her body was toned and smooth, as if sculpted from years of patience. But it was her hair that truly stunned him. It didn't have a fixed color. Instead, it reflected the room around her, shifting like a liquid mirror—silver, blue, gold, and white, all blending and twisting like waves. Her chest was so..
'Wait, chest?'
Zane's face went pale.
His eyes widened.
Then, reality struck like lightning.
"I DIDN'T SEE ANYTHING—I SWEAR!"
'Not intentionally at least.'
He didn't have time to process what had happened.
[System Notice]
Player Zane Walker has died.
A few moments later, Zane's eyes fluttered open.
His head ached like a bell was ringing in it. But then he saw her—Onilia—standing over him, wrapped in nothing but a soft white towel. Steam trailed behind her like mist following a goddess, with her expression anything but happy.
'I know it was my fault, I forgot to lock the door after all. A habit of mine, but I didn't think he'd finish selecting a room this quickly.' Onilia thought.
"Tell me, Zane," she said slowly, her tone icy yet calm. "What exactly made you want to risk your life like that? Did you really want to peek that badly? Enough to die for it? I was kind enough to invite you in because I was worried you wouldn't get a place to sleep. It hadn't even been a day yet and you've already begun to peek."
She crossed her arms—towel or not—and stared him down with the gaze of an executioner. "Give me a good explanation, or I'll make sure even the Master wouldn't be able to bring you back after I'm done with you."
"I—uh—wait, no, I swear it wasn't what it looked like!" he stammered. "I was just… upstairs... the door!"
'This is so annoying. Never thought a day would come when I'd be accused of peeking. Though that was an incredible sight to behold.'
"Door?" she echoed, narrowing her eyes in confusion.
"Yes!" he said quickly. "They're all locked—come on, I'll show you!"
Desperate to prove his innocence, Zane scrambled to his feet and grabbed her by the wrist—carefully, as if touching glass—then rushed up the stairs with her in towel.
They reached the hallway again. He pointed dramatically at the door that had defeated him earlier.
"That one!" he huffed. " I'm telling you, that cursed door wouldn't even budge.!"
Onilia gave him a suspicious look, like she still wasn't fully buying his story. Then, with the casual confidence of someone opening her kitchen pantry, she stepped forward and gently pushed the door.
It swung open without resistance.
Zane blinked. His soul left his body for half a second.
Yep. The door hated him.
Onilia let out a sigh, rubbed her forehead, then simply turned around and walked back down the stairs—still in her towel and dripping, clearly done with the entire situation.
Zane stood frozen for a moment, unsure whether to be relieved or offended. She hadn't killed him. That was good. But she definitely thought he was an idiot or a creep.
Zane stared at her shadow leave.
'Though I enjoy having to play around a little, but I can't get comfortable just yet.'
He slowly stepped into the room. No trace of guilt on his face. He didn't even try to close the door. Who knew if it would open again? Best not to take chances with cursed architecture.
The room itself was spacious. There was a massive bed, soft lighting from floating crystals orbs, and a clear view of the landscape beyond the mountains. But none of it felt comforting.
Zane let out a long sigh and dropped onto the bed.
It didn't take him long to realize something else.
He couldn't survive on this planet without Onilia.
Even after adapting to the planet's gravity a little, his muscles still hadn't caught up. It was like being trapped in a nightmare gym class. Everything was heavier than it had any right to be. Spoons felt like dumbbells. Chairs refused to move unless he shoved them with both hands and a prayer.
Even now, lying in bed felt like trying to rest while wearing a weighted vest.
Zane lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as his mind drifted somewhere far away.
For the first time in a while, he thought of his family—and like always, it left a bitter taste in his mouth.
He later had a grasp of the root of his father's hatred for him. It wasn't just neglect or coldness—it was pure, deep-rooted resentment.
His birth had never been planned. His mother had seduced the President, hoping to climb the social ladder. She didn't love him. She didn't even want a child. But when she found out she was pregnant, she saw it as her golden ticket. After all, she now carried the President's child—something the media would explode over if it ever got out.
So the President, desperate to avoid scandal, gave in to her every insane demand. She got what she wanted.
And then, just like that, she vanished.
She dumped Zane on his father and disappeared from his life.
The President had no choice but to raise him, but all the anger meant for his mother was directed at the one person who had nothing to do with it—Zane.
He didn't ask to be born. Yet he paid the price.
His older brother made sure of that too. His older brother, Jason, had poisoned him more times than he could count. Each time, he nearly died—but there was never enough proof to blame him, how can there be proof when Zane chose the type of poison himself. Not that anyone would've cared even if he had proof.
'I wonder why Blake didn't send me to an orphanage or kill me since he didn't want me, not that it matters. He was the one who started this and I'll end it.'
Still… not all memories were bad.
He remembered one moment, clear as day.
After surviving the first poisoning, Zane had been bedridden for days. His body felt like it had been torn apart and stitched back together with barbed wire.
'Damn, I should've picked a different poison. Still, it's fun to have so many people against you, it means you have more people to screw over.'
He spent most of the time reading to distract himself.
One afternoon, just as he was reaching the most intense part of the story—a do-or-die moment for humanity—his bedroom door creaked open.
A tiny voice floated in.
"Big brother, play with me again."
It was Ariel. His little sister, barely able to pronounce her R's properly, stood at the door with wide, hopeful eyes.
Zane looked up from his novel, a bit annoyed.
"Come back later? I finally got to the good part."
He waved his hand away, shooing her as he glanced back at the book, eager to find out how humanity would survive the second wave of alien attacks.
But then he heard a soft sniffle.
"Does big brother not like Ariel anymore?" she asked, rubbing her eyes. "Big brother doesn't want to play with Ariel anymore?"
Sniff. Sniff.
Zane felt his heart crack. He sighed, shut the book, and tossed it aside without another thought.
"Of course not," he said, smiling at her. "Who cares about some stupid novel anyway? What do you want to play?"
Ariel's face lit up like sunshine.
"I wanna play hya hya!" she said, punching the air like a warrior.
Zane chuckled at the memory but he frowned when he remembered the danger his sister might be facing.