Minutes blurred into hours.
Hours slipped into days.
Time moved forward after the tournament, but it felt distant — muffled, like sound heard underwater. The world continued, yet something had been left behind in that coliseum.
Hina hadn't seen Asim since that day.
Mera filled in for him. She trained in his place, spoke in his stead. And when Hina finally asked where Asim was, Mera only shrugged, casual, dismissive, as if the answer didn't matter.
Hina knew better than to accept that.
Her mind wandered on its own, painting images she didn't want to see.
Aiko's cold stare.
Locked doors.
Rooms that smelled of iron and silence.
She shook the thoughts away, but they clung to her like shadows.
Today, though, felt… different.
Hina slowly stepped out of the bathroom, bare feet meeting the cold floor of the apartment she'd grown accustomed to. The space was quiet, almost sterile. She paused, letting the stillness settle around her.
Beyond the window stretched the Shadow World.
A black-and-white city frozen in muted tones. Shadows slid through the streets like living things, long and distorted, moving without sound or purpose. Buildings stood tall and empty, as if abandoned long ago.
A lifeless world.
One most people would never know existed.
Hina exhaled slowly, stretching as she stared at the same view she'd seen the day she first arrived. It hadn't changed. The streets, the shadows, the quiet — all the same.
She wasn't.
She turned toward the open kitchen.
Ivan stood there in a pink apron, humming softly as he cooked. The sound was gentle, absurdly normal against the backdrop of the Shadow World. The smell of food filled the room, warm and grounding.
Hina walked over and took a seat at the table. Ivan continued cooking, humming until he lowered the flame and turned.
"So, Hina…"
Her head lifted slightly, eyes finding him.
Ivan sighed before speaking again.
"Prepare after you finish eating. There's another meeting at the quarters."
Hina froze.
Her body reacted before her thoughts could catch up — muscles tensing, breath tightening. The memory of the Veynar mission slammed into her, sharp and sudden.
Ivan noticed immediately.
"Don't worry," he said quickly. "It isn't a search mission or anything like that."
The reassurance felt thin.
The last time she trusted this masked fool, she'd died. The memory lingered — pain, darkness, the sensation of something tearing through her head.
"How are you so sure?" she asked, skepticism heavy in her voice.
"It won't be violent," Ivan replied calmly. "But it'll be a long one."
Her brows furrowed.
"What do you mean by long?"
Ivan chuckled lightly.
"Well, from what I've heard, there's an anomaly appearing around the world. The only thing we know is that it mostly shows up at job sites."
Hina felt the tension in her shoulders loosen just a fraction.
"The mission would have us living normal lives," Ivan continued. "Working."
He tossed the spatula into the air and caught it effortlessly, as if to emphasize how simple it sounded.
"So don't worry too much. It's nothing big."
"…Alright."
Hina nodded, gaze dropping to the table.
Still, something twisted uncomfortably in her gut.
Her thoughts drifted — the tendril, the pressure, the moment it pierced her head—
Before the memory could fully bloom, Ivan placed a plate in front of her.
Sausages.
A folded crepe filled with cream cheese.
The warmth radiated upward.
"Eat up, Hina."
She nodded and began eating slowly, letting the taste pull her back into the moment.