A small ripple spread out from the point of contact, running across the monster's body and making the stars reflected on its chest dance and distort in a way that looked almost beautiful if you ignored the fact that it was a giant horror from the void.
Profit stopped growling and sat back on his haunches, his crystal tails doing a slow wave that made the ambient light bend and twist around the two of us.
The tall shadow gave a slow, deep vibration that I felt more in my stomach than in my ears, and it slowly began to sink back down into the rubber floor, its tall silhouette melting away like a piece of wax held too close to a fire.
The other shadows followed suit, their tall shapes dissolving back into the darkness until the edge of my vision was once again just a flat, infinite sheet of black obsidian that didn't show any signs of life.
I let out a long breath I didn't even know I was holding, leaning back into the velvet armchair and feeling like I'd just survived a job interview where the employer was a literal demon from hell.
I picked up my tea mug again, taking a long sip of the green liquid which was now lukewarm and had a faint taste of the void's heavy air, and looked down at the floating sneakers on my feet with a small, tired smile.
The system interface was still blinking in the corner of my vision, but I just ignored it and focused on the way the little crystal fox was now trying to climb onto the armchair to share the velvet space with me.
I pulled him up and let him curl his heavy, cold body against my side, deciding that if I was going to be an exiled villainess in a pocket dimension, I was at least going to be the most comfortable and stylish one in the entire history of transmigration.
I found myself wondering if anyone would ever find that Excel spreadsheet on my computer back at the office, or if they would just delete the whole folder and replace me with some other fresh graduate who would work for less money and not complain about the hours.
It was a depressing thought, but it helped anchor me to the reality that my old life was well and truly over, and that complaining about a lack of pillows in my void sanctuary was probably a waste of time and energy that I should be using to survive.
Profit let out a soft, clicking sound that felt like a tiny electric shock against my hip, drawing my attention back to the present and making me realize that I was still sitting in a dark pocket dimension with a crystal fox.
The system interface suddenly gave off another scent of burning rubber, and a new message flickered onto the screen in that atrocious medieval font that I was slowly starting to despise with every fiber of my being.
The text read [Void Sanctuary synchronization complete. You are now recognized as the master of the local space. Sin points remaining: 15.] in a bright neon green that clashed horribly with the purple galaxy above our heads.
I stared at the message, wondering what being the 'master of the local space' actually meant in practice, or if it was just another fancy title that didn't come with any real benefits other than a false sense of security.
I flicked my fingers to close the interface, and the screen disappeared with a tiny pop that sounded like a bubble bursting in a glass of warm soda, leaving me alone with the silence and the low frequency humming in my headphones.
I reached up and pulled the crystal headphones down around my neck again, preferring the absolute silence of the void over that heavy bass that was making my head feel like it was full of angry bees.
Profit stretched his front legs out on the green velvet, yawning and showing off his rows of sharp geometric teeth that looked like they could crunch through a steel pipe as easily as a piece of dry toast.
I looked at the glass table, where my mug of lukewarm green tea was sitting next to the little golden cat infuser, and I couldn't help but feel that this whole setup was missing something essential to make it feel like a proper home.
I needed some books, or a TV that didn't work but looked nice on a wall, or maybe just a pile of cushions that didn't smell like they were made of recycled car tires and old gym mats.
I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the soft emerald fabric of the armchair, deciding that I would worry about interior decorating and fighting shadow monsters tomorrow after I had at least a few hours of sleep that didn't involve dreaming about unsaved spreadsheets.
The silence in the sanctuary was so thick it felt like a physical blanket over my body, muffling the sound of my own breathing and making the light from my floating shoes look brighter than it probably was.
I reached out and stroked Profit's back, my fingertips sliding over the smooth, ice-cold crystal facets that felt more like touching a piece of heavy glass than any living animal I'd ever encountered before.
He didn't purr, but he made a low, rhythmic clicking sound that vibrated through the velvet of the chair and into my side, a weirdly soothing noise that helped calm the frantic beating of my heart.
I wondered if the other people who got transmigrated into fantasy worlds also spent their first night sitting on wooden pallets and velvet chairs in the middle of a pitch-black void, or if they all got lucky and landed in a nice cozy inn with a warm bed and a bowl of hot soup.
Knowing my luck, I was probably the only one who ended up with a system that smelled like burning plastic and a pet that was literally made of geometry and expensive perfume, but I guess it was better than being dead on the street in São Paulo.
I shifted my weight on the armchair, trying to find a position that didn't make my lower back ache like I was pulling another all-nighter in the office to finish a project that no one was going to read anyway.
The galaxy above us did another one of those slow, sluggish rotations, a massive river of violet and white stars that seemed to be moving in a direction that didn't make any sense no matter how long I stared at it.
I watched a tiny cluster of blue stars drift behind a large, dark cloud that looked like a stain of spilt coffee on a purple tablecloth, and I felt a sudden, sharp wave of exhaustion wash over me like a heavy tide.
I closed my eyes, letting the darkness of the void take over, and for a few hours, I forgot about systems, bloodlines, and the fact that I was currently wearing shoes that were floating five centimeters above a rubber floor.
I woke up a few hours later because Profit had decided that the most comfortable place for his heavy crystal head was directly on my stomach, making every breath feel like I was lifting a large bag of cement in a dusty warehouse.
The fluorescent lights on the ceiling were still buzzing with that same annoying frequency, flickering just enough to make the shadows in the corners of the room look like they were dancing a slow, mocking waltz behind my back.
I pushed the fox's head off my ribs with a grunt, and he just made a disgruntled clicking noise and curled up into a tighter ball of glass on the velvet fabric, refusing to give up his spot on the chair.
I sat up and stretched my arms until my shoulders gave a loud, satisfying pop, looking around the small circle of light to see if anything had changed while I was busy dreaming about my old commute to work on the bus.
The glass table was still there, the mug of tea now completely cold with a faint film of something that looked like oil floating on the surface of the green liquid, which was probably not safe to drink anymore.
The black hole in the floor where the system had anchored the key was gone, replaced by a smooth, seamless surface of that same obsidian rubber that didn't show any signs of ever being broken or manipulated by a cosmic fuse.
I swung my legs over the side of the armchair, my floating high-top sneakers immediately finding their five-centimeter distance from the floor with a soft, magnetic hum that I was slowly starting to get used to hearing in the silence.
I stood up and took a few steps around the small space, enjoying the feeling of not actually touching the floor and wondering how much mana these things were chewing through just to keep me from getting my feet dirty.
I reached down and picked up the dark core of the bone-mutt from the table, holding it up to the buzzing light to see if it had changed color or dissolved into grease while I was asleep.
It was still as dark and solid as a piece of anthracite, cold against my palm and smelling faintly of that wet dog odor that I was definitely going to have to find a way to wash out of my clothes sooner rather than later.
I put the core into the system's inventory, watching it disappear into thin air with that same smell of ozone and hot plastic that I was slowly beginning to associate with the interface popping up in front of my face.
I had fifteen sin points left in my account, which was probably not enough to buy anything useful like a weapon or a proper house, but maybe it was enough for a bag of chips or a bottle of soda that didn't taste like it was harvested from a chemical plant.
I flicked my wrist to bring up the screen again, ready to see what kind of garbage the store had to offer me for fifteen points, but the interface didn't appear with its usual glitchy display and terrible font choices.
Instead, the void around me gave a sudden, heavy shake that made the glass table rattle against the rubber floor and caused Profit to jump to his feet with his tails glowing like a bunch of neon flares in the dark.
A deep, grinding sound echoed through the sanctuary, coming from somewhere far beyond the edge of the light, as if a giant door was being opened or a large piece of heavy machinery was being turned on after decades of sitting idle in the dark.