The Crossing – From Asad's Perspective
The supercars were a blur—streaks of chrome and speed cutting through the heart of Elysium.
Asad stood at the road crossing, dressed in the black EMP-branded suit, his presence a quiet contrast to the bright and restless city around him.
The weight of it all pressed down on him.
Ah… what's going on?
The thought struck him sharply, an irritation he couldn't quite push away. He watched the vehicles race past, watched people laughing, talking, enjoying themselves.
How long has it been like this?
His gaze drifted across the crowd.
A woman in a vibrant red dress hurried past him, her heels clicking against the pavement, her face glowing in the light of her datapad. Two men in crisp white suits stood nearby, speaking in low, careful voices. A young couple crossed the street hand in hand, smiling as if the world belonged only to them.
Everything looked normal.
Too normal.
Then he heard voices.
"Hey… it's him," someone whispered.
Asad's eyes shifted slightly.
Two unfamiliar figures stood a short distance away—young, curious, clearly new to the city. One of them was staring at him.
Who are they?
The question came instinctively.
Why are they talking about me?
He felt the familiar discomfort rise inside him—the same feeling he always had when strangers looked at him as if he were something on display rather than a person.
Humans talked too much. Whispered too much. Observed too much.
If they spent half as much time solving their own problems as they did staring at others, the world would be quieter.
The pedestrian signal blinked.
Seconds passed.
He stood still, waiting, his expression calm even while his thoughts were not.
Finally, the light changed.
He stepped forward with the rest of the crowd.
Asad moved the way he always did—controlled, measured, precise. Every movement intentional, every step calculated.
Around him, whispers followed.
"Isn't that the guy from the EMP ads?"
"He looks even colder in person."
"I heard he's involved in something big."
He ignored them.
He always did.
Then it happened.
A man—middle-aged, distracted, eyes fixed on his phone—walked directly into him.
The impact was small, almost meaningless.
But to Asad, it was jarring.
The man looked up in panic.
"Ah—s-sorry! I'm so sorry!"
For a fraction of a second, something sharp flickered behind Asad's calm exterior.
Then it vanished.
He forced his expression to remain neutral.
"It's fine," Asad said quietly. "No one's hurt."
His voice was steady. Polite. Controlled.
He turned and walked away.
Inside, however, his thoughts continued.
Why did I let it go so easily?
He knew the answer.
Because he had chosen to live by certain rules.
Because he refused to be driven by impulse.
Because he had decided—long ago—to act like a proper human being, no matter what he truly was.
I made those rules myself.
Breaking them would mean breaking something deeper.
The city stretched out before him as he continued walking.
Glass towers. Clean streets. Perfectly designed spaces.
Everything in Elysium was flawless on the surface.
Too flawless.
Sometimes he wished it wasn't.
Sometimes he wished people would stop pretending everything was fine and start thinking honestly about the problems around them.
The setting sun painted the skyline in orange and purple, shadows stretching long across the polished streets.
Asad adjusted his sleeve slightly.
It's just the sunlight, he reminded himself. I haven't been out in it for a long time.
Nothing more.
The city lights began to bloom as evening settled in.
And he kept walking forward, alone in the crowd, toward the familiar path he always followed.
He walked, the city lights blooming around him. His mind, still unsettled, drifted through small, useless thoughts that appeared and vanished like sparks.
Finally, he reached his destination.
The view was as familiar as it was beautiful—a wide river reflecting the towering buildings of Elysium like a mirror. A glowing bridge stretched across the water, its lights shimmering softly. The facades of glass and steel merged with their reflections, creating a calm, almost unreal scene.
Nestled beside the river stood the Elysium Coffee Shop, glowing warmly against the evening.
He tilted his head slightly, testing the air out of habit.
Let's drink coffee, like always.
Let's go in now. It's already the perfect time.
He reached the door and opened it with practiced ease.
The moment he stepped inside, the familiar scent of coffee wrapped around him.
Voices brushed against his ears, countless conversations mixing together. He ignored them, scanning the café without turning his head.
So many people. Always talking about useless things.
Good. I have my own booth. I don't need to listen to their pointless gossip.
He began walking toward his usual seat when a figure suddenly approached.
"Asad."
He didn't react.
Marco again.
What kind of leech is this man? Always hovering around me, trying to collect information.
Anger flickered through him, but his expression remained calm.
Every day the same nonsense. He keeps coming, and I keep ignoring him. Yet he never learns.
Without acknowledging him, Asad reached his booth and sat down, letting his gaze drift outside through the large glass window.
The river. The bridge. The moving lights.
This view looks good.
Like there is no one around me.
It would be even better if there truly were no one.
His thoughts slowed, settling into quiet observation.
A gentle voice reached him.
"Senior, may I bring your usual order?"
He nodded once, already looking back toward the scenery.
Aria again.
She looks the same as always.
Silver hair like mine. Only her eyes are different. Black instead of white. But I know that appearance isn't completely real. Earth changes many things.
A faint, confusing thought passed through him.
I feel something when I see her.
At first I thought it was love. But I felt something similar for someone else too.
So it can't be that. Probably just familiarity.
He dismissed the idea and focused again on the outside world.
Then—
Something small appeared beyond the glass.
A little figure suddenly popped up outside the window, directly in his line of sight.
A child.
A girl, no older than six, dressed in tiny EMP-branded clothes.
He watched without moving.
Lia.
The name came to him instantly.
Why is she here?
This isn't the right time.
The glass was tinted from the outside, slightly blurred, so she couldn't clearly see inside. But he could see her perfectly.
She looked at the café window curiously, tilting her head as if comparing something.
Then she reached into her small bag and pulled out a phone.
She's trying to match something.
He remembered.
Right. She keeps my image as her wallpaper.
So she must be comparing the brand, not my face.
A muffled voice came from outside.
"Lia! Stop running!"
Another figure hurried into view.
Lusia.
Asad's thoughts sharpened.
Lusia…
They were supposed to leave for their home country around this time.
Then why are they still here?
He watched silently as Lusia grabbed Lia's hand and said something he couldn't hear. The girl nodded, looking a little disappointed.
They turned and walked away quickly.
So they haven't left yet.
Strange.
For a moment his gaze followed them until they disappeared into the crowd.
Then his attention returned to the river.
Nothing interesting anymore.
A faint, distant sensation brushed against his awareness.
But I feel something unfamiliar approaching this Earth.
Something new.
A small, unreadable expression crossed his face.
I think I'll find plenty of entertainment soon.
"Senior?" a hesitant voice interrupted him again.
He didn't turn. At first, he assumed it was unimportant, just another background noise in the crowded café. But the voice called once more.
"Senior."
Ah, again. I think my order is ready.
This time it was Lily. Her blonde hair framed a thoughtful expression, and he could clearly see the concern in her blue eyes as she placed his coffee on the table. It was the first time she had brought his order; Aria always did.
So she wants to know something from me. But I know she cannot ask. I know her better than anyone.
I feel strangely satisfied seeing her face like this—hesitant, uncertain, searching for words she cannot find.
Let's make this a little more interesting.
For the briefest moment, his eyes shifted—subtle, almost imperceptible. The black in them deepened, and a faint crimson tint flickered within. A change so slight that only someone already watching too closely could notice.
There. That reaction is exactly what I expected.
Now she will only become more confused. And she will not ask anything at all.
Ah, she has gone back to her place. Good. I can drink my coffee in peace.
He lifted the cup calmly.
I do not need to see that troubled expression any longer. After all, I am the reason for it.
For a moment, an unusual thought crossed his mind.
Why do I feel the urge to comfort her? To calm her worries, to speak kindly, to act… human?
He frowned slightly.
Strange. I keep thinking as if I were some programmed machine, acting automatically.
Enough of that.
He turned his attention inward again, letting the thoughts drift away.
Something is approaching this Earth. I can already sense it. Different spaces, different presences.
Rules made only for Earth will no longer apply. The structure built here will start to fail.
A small, ironic thought surfaced.
Perhaps I could pretend to be a hero. Like the ones in fiction—saving people, protecting them.
Ridiculous.
Why would I protect those who barely think for themselves?
No. I will simply observe.
He finished his coffee and placed the empty cup back on the table.
Across the café, Lily and Aria were still talking quietly, unaware that their conversation had already become irrelevant to him.
Enough for today.
He stood up smoothly, walked to the counter, made the payment without a word, and left the shop.
The conversation behind him stopped abruptly.
Outside, the cool evening air brushed softly against his face. His eyes scanned the sky for a brief moment, noticing small changes only he could recognize.
A quiet breath escaped him.
Then he began walking again.
To anyone watching, he was simply another man moving through the city—calm, ordinary, unremarkable.
Yet somehow, without hurrying at all, he covered an unusual distance in a very short time.
Almost, he thought.
The building loomed ahead—large and striking, designed in a unique blend of dark black and deep red that gave it an almost otherworldly presence.
He pressed the button for the penthouse. The elevator doors slid open with a soft hiss, revealing a spacious, spotless interior. He stepped inside, eyes briefly flicking to the polished walls, his expression calm but alert.
It's complete.
The elevator chimed, and the doors opened. He walked down the hall with purposeful strides, his posture straight and confident. At his door, he paused for a moment, then knocked lightly.
Inside the House – Luna's Perspective
Luna sat quietly on the sofa near the entrance.
Her long black hair, streaked with deep red, rested softly over her shoulders, blending perfectly with the dark interior of the house. Her golden eyes remained fixed on the clock hanging on the wall.
She had been watching it for some time now, waiting patiently.
The moment the time reached a certain minute, she rose to her feet.
Footsteps echoed faintly from the hallway.
She moved to the door and opened it with a calm, welcoming expression.
He stepped inside.
He said nothing at first. His movements were slightly faster than usual, his mind clearly elsewhere.
"Did you prepare water for the bath?" he asked briefly.
Before she could answer, he was already walking past her toward the bathroom.
The door closed behind him.
Luna remained standing for a moment, then slowly returned to the sofa. A faint trace of sadness crossed her face—not because of his behavior, but because she could feel the heaviness in him.
She looked down at her wrist.
Faint marks were there—barely visible now, almost faded with time. Anyone else would have missed them entirely. She touched them lightly, then lowered her hand.
From the bathroom came the quiet sound of running water.
Luna stayed where she was.
She did not move.
She did not call out.
She simply waited.
Passing Time
After a while, she picked up her phone from the small table.
The device matched the house—black with subtle red patterns, elegant but without any brand marking. She scrolled through it slowly, her fingers moving without hurry.
A picture appeared on the screen.
Aria.
A simple photo from her university days—standing under sunlight, smiling faintly.
Luna looked at it for a few moments, her expression unreadable.
Behind her, the bathroom door opened.
She did not turn immediately.
Through the reflection on the glass cabinet in front of her, a figure passed in silence—a tall man, slightly taller than before, wearing a dark bathrobe.
Long pure white hair rested over his shoulders, still faintly damp.
He walked past without a word.
A familiar presence.
The Dressing Room
A soft door sound reached her ears.
Luna lifted her gaze.
She hesitated for a moment—wondering whether to go in or wait.
Then she quietly walked toward the dressing room.
Inside, he stood in front of the wardrobe, looking at the rows of clothing and accessories, yet not choosing anything.
After a brief silence, he glanced toward her.
"Luna," he said calmly. "Come here. Choose something for me."
At those words, a small warmth returned to her face.
She stepped inside the large obsidian door—its surface black with streaks of crimson red that reflected the dim light.
The wardrobe was exactly as always: elegant, organized, filled with outfits of the same tone—black fabric with deep red patterns, each slightly different, yet carrying the same signature style.
Luna studied them carefully.
Most looked similar at first glance, but she knew the subtle differences.
She turned once to look at him in the mirror—standing quietly, waiting.
I need to choose well today, she thought.
Her hands moved gently through the clothing until she found one with a pattern she liked. After selecting the main outfit, she turned to the accessories.
Watches. Earrings. Chains.
She examined them thoughtfully.
Rings wouldn't suit this one, she decided.
Instead, she chose a bone-themed watch—refined and elegant—and a single long earring that required no piercing.
Satisfied, she approached him.
Without unnecessary words, she helped him dress—straightening the collar, adjusting the sleeves, fastening the watch.
He watched everything through the mirror, calm and silent.
Finally, he added a set of thorn-shaped chains to his right hand, their dark metallic surface glinting faintly under the crimson lights.
His reflection stared back—black sclera, deep blood-red irises with subtle moving patterns inside them.
Luna took a small step back.
"Done," she said softly.
The Bedroom
Later, the house grew quiet again.
He lay on the bed, dressed and composed, the chains resting along his hand like cold decorations. Luna slept peacefully on his right side, her breathing slow and steady.
The room was calm.
Yet he could not sleep.
Not in the way humans did.
He shifted slightly, trying to find comfort, but the sensation never came. Sleep was always distant—something remembered, not experienced.
A faint unease lingered at the edge of his awareness.
Something was happening somewhere.
Something… satisfying.
He wanted to go and see.
His gaze drifted to Luna beside him.
Why did she choose to sleep so close tonight?
A quiet thought passed through his mind, then faded.
He closed his eyes again, listening to the silence of the house—aware that soon, that silence would not last.