Rio stared at the endless rows of doors that filled every nook and cranny of the room.
"How am I supposed to pick between all this? Isn't this an impossible choice?" he muttered, turning to the suited rabbit — who, having given up on his paperwork, now spun lazily in his chair to face him.
"It's not as hard as it looks," the rabbit said, smiling faintly. "You'll feel it when you see it."
"Wow," Rio muttered dryly. "Thanks for the vague advice."
Still, he got to work.
He started opening doors — carefully, one by one — and immediately realized two things.
First: these weren't really doors at all. They were more like portals. Each one led to another world entirely.
In one, he saw a boy drawing a sword that gleamed like a star.
In another, a ninja hurled a kunai at a hulking oni-shaped beast.
He cracked open one that revealed a cavern of darkness — something moved in there, something vast — and he slammed it shut immediately.
Some didn't show places at all. They showed futures.
A king on a golden throne.
A beekeeper tending an garden.
A daemon standing atop a burning city.
A footballer beneath roaring lights.
A dinosaur tearing through a jungle.
And second: every single door called to him.
Some whispered softly, others shouted. Each one promised something — power, purpose, escape, glory.
After what felt like hours — maybe even days — of searching fruitlessly, Rio gave up. He trudged back to the desk and dropped into the chair across from the rabbit.
The rabbit looked up with a knowing grin. "Not going well?"
"I don't even know how it's going," Rio said flatly. "I don't know anything anymore. You know, in one of those worlds"—he gestured wildly at the infinite corridor—"I'm a vending machine. A living, breathing, talking vending machine!"
He shot to his feet, pacing in frustration. "I've spent the last three hours looking at damn doors! Every single damm door out there just doesn't feel right! This is the most poin—"
His words trailed off.
Something tugged at him. A faint, almost imperceptible pull beneath his anger.
He turned — and saw it.
The only door he hadn't checked.
The one he came through.
Only… it wasn't the same.
What had once been a simple white door was now something else entirely — an old, weathered slab of wood, cracked and splintered, barely holding together. It didn't glow like the others. It absorbed light, like it was swallowing the stars around it.
"How the hell did I miss that?" he whispered.
He glanced back at the rabbit, who was watching him with quiet curiosity, and leaned closer to the door, peering through a small crack.
The void stared back.
Rio jerked away instantly. "One thing I learned from LOTM," he muttered, "is not to look at weird shit."
"That's wise advice," the rabbit quipped, smirking behind his glasses.
Rio trudged back to his seat, sinking into it with a sigh. "Why does the only door that feels right look so… wrong?"
"Sometimes," the rabbit said calmly, "what looks the most wrong is the most right."
"Or it might be a trap," Rio countered.
The rabbit's grin widened. "It might be. But it's also a fact that all the other doors are traps."
Rio frowned. "How do you figure that?"
"If a door feels wrong," the rabbit said, folding his paws neatly on the desk, "it might be for many reasons. Perhaps there's already a hero in that world. Perhaps an unbeatable monster rules it. Perhaps the world itself rejects salvation."
He paused, eyes gleaming behind his lenses.
"Or," he said softly, "it might be a doomed world."
Rio's pulse quickened. "A doomed world?"
"Yes. Worlds that, from the instant they were born, were marked for death. For a thousand reasons — inconceivable evil, corruption, hell even fate itself. In our eyes, there are worlds that can't be saved… and worlds that shouldn't be."
Rio's fingers tightened on the edge of the desk. "That's… interesting," he said slowly.
The rabbit tilted his head, amused by the tone.
Rio didn't say the rest aloud — but the thought lingered, heavy and sharp in his mind.
If the Agency decides who deserves to live or die… then maybe one day, they might mark me for death.
"You overestimate yourself," the rabbit said with a chuckle. "To the higher-ups, you're not even worth the paperwork. Killing you would be a waste of resources."
Rio let out a shaky laugh. "Comforting."
Standing up and brushing the cosmic dust from his hoodie, he squared his shoulders. "Guess this is it, then."
"Wait," the rabbit said suddenly. "Before you go."
Rio blinked. "What is it?"
Hocus rummaged through his desk, muttering under his breath. "Your road is long and hard. If I can give you something to ease that suffering and pain, I'd feel like I've done my job… Ah! Here it is."
He tossed a necklace toward Rio. Tiny charms shaped like weapons dangled from it — swords, spears, knives, even what looked like a gun.
Rio caught it, eyeing it warily. "What exactly does this do?"
"Oh, that?" the rabbit said, waving his paw dismissively. "Don't worry about that for now. It'll explain itself."
"…It'll what?" Rio muttered, utterly lost.
Hocus ignored him, pulling out his silver wand and tapping Rio lightly on the forehead.
"You can go now. It's done."
Rio blinked. "Aren't you supposed to, like… say the words? Abracadabra or whatever?"
"Outdated," Hocus said with a smirk. "Kids don't even do that anymore. It's flashy, predictable, and a tactical liability."
He extended a paw. Rio reached to shake it — but instead, the rabbit pulled him into a quick, tight hug.
"Be careful," Hocus whispered. "Especially of the Agency. Should you ever find yourself in a dire situation… yell Evanesco."
Rio blinked. "Evanesco?"
"It'll only work three times," Hocus said seriously. "So don't waste it."
Rio hesitated. "Why are you doing all this for me?"
The rabbit's gaze softened. "Because I can. And because I've seen the futures where I don't help you."
Pulling out of the hug he shuddered slightly. "They're… bad."
Rio frowned. "That bad?"
"Worse."
Rio exhaled through his nose. "Then I don't want to know."
He clasped the necklace in his hand, steeling himself. "If there's even a chance I can go home… I have to take it."
"What's your name, anyway?" Rio asked.
"Hocus," the rabbit said simply.
Rio grinned faintly. "Thanks, Hocus. For everything."
"Go," Hocus said, stepping back. "Godspeed."
Rio walked towards the warped, ancient door. He reached for the handle, took a breath — and without another thought, stepped through.
The void swallowed him whole.