𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃
The golden light of the late afternoon sun filtered through the narrow attic window, dust motes drifting lazily through its beams like suspended stars. It should have been warm, peaceful—comforting, even. Instead, Cosmo's room had become ground zero for a reality-shattering catastrophe.
Cosmo stood frozen in place, his body locked somewhere between fight, flight, and total system failure. One hand hovered uselessly in front of him, fingers spread as if he could physically shove the situation back into sanity. His heart slammed against his ribs, frantic and panicked, each beat echoing in his ears like a warning siren.
Opposite him sat a woman.
—or at least, something that looked like one.
She was perched with infuriating ease on the edge of his bed, utterly unconcerned with the laws of decency, physics, or common sense. Sharp, feline eyes regarded him with lazy amusement, their golden gleam far too knowing, far too old. Dark hair spilled over her shoulders, framing a face that was unmistakably human… right up until his gaze snagged on the unmistakable proof that it wasn't.
Two cat ears.
Real ones.
They twitched.
Cosmo's brain short-circuited.
"E-excuse me…" His voice cracked, shrill and thin, barely recognizable as his own. "Wh-who are you?"
The woman didn't answer right away. Instead, she tilted her head slowly, deliberately, as though savoring every second of his unraveling. A smirk curved her lips—sharp, smug, and entirely unrepentant. She looked entirely too comfortable being buck-naked in a stranger's bedroom.
"I'm the cat from earlier, remember?" she said at last, her voice low and warm, threaded with a soft purr that sent an involuntary shiver down his spine. "We fell off a building together."
She leaned forward slightly, eyes sparkling with mischief—and something deeper. Something ancient.
"You can call me Nina."
Cosmo's thoughts slammed to a dead halt.
The memory hit him all at once—the vertigo, the rush of wind tearing past his ears, the split-second decision to grab a stray cat instead of saving himself. The impact that should have ended everything.
He stared at her, mouth hanging open in a silent, horrified oh.
"So you do remember, huh?" Nina's smirk widened, clearly pleased.
"HOLY CRAP! MOOOMMM!!!"
The scream ripped out of Cosmo's lungs at full volume as he scrambled backward, tripping over his own feet in blind panic.
That scream was the starter pistol.
Heavy footsteps thundered down the hallway, fast and frantic. The attic door flew open as Cosmo's sister burst inside—a blonde whirlwind of chaos and raw energy.
"GAAAHHH!!!"
Her shriek pierced the air as her eyes landed on the scene. Her face went red—then redder—as her brain failed spectacularly to process what it was seeing. She didn't ask questions. She didn't pause. She spun on her heel and bolted.
"THERE'S A BUCK NAKED WOMAN IN COSMO'S ROOM!!!"
Her voice echoed through the house like a declaration of war.
Cosmo felt his soul evacuate his body.
He turned slowly back toward Nina, who looked… entertained. Her ears flicked, her eyes bright with delight, clearly enjoying the chaos she'd detonated.
"Sorry…?" Cosmo wheezed, clutching his head. "Um… Nina? Exactly what am I helping you with…? And please—please put some clothes on…"
Nina blinked at him innocently. Somewhere behind her, a tail flicked into view, swaying lazily.
The quiet life was officially over.
---
Morning light filtered through the dusty attic windows, pale and thin, illuminating the chaos like a cruel spotlight. Cosmo sat paralyzed on the hardwood floor, his back pressed flat against it, heart still pounding as if it hadn't gotten the memo that time was moving forward.
Just moments ago, the unthinkable had happened.
His mother had walked in.
"MOOOM!!!"
His sister stood frozen in the doorway, her face twisted into pure, unfiltered shock. One trembling finger pointed accusingly at the room. "COSMO BROUGHT A HALF-NAKED WOMAN INTO HIS ROOM—"
Cosmo scrambled backward in sheer panic, limbs tangling as he lost his balance.
STUMBLE.
THUD.
He hit the floor hard, glasses slipping down his nose as he stared upward in horror.
Behind his sister stood their mother.
Calm. Composed.
Smiling.
"My, are you still half asleep, sweetie?" she asked lightly, completely ignoring the accusation hanging in the air. "Do you know what time it is?"
Reality tilted.
"B-BUT THAT'S IMPOSSIBLE…" Cosmo's sister whispered, grabbing the doorframe for support as her worldview cracked apart.
She watched in stunned silence as the mysterious, barely-clothed woman leaned forward with a casual phew, as though being discovered mid-scandal were nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
"Good morning, Auntie," the woman chirped cheerfully.
"Well, hello dear!" their mother replied just as casually, waving a hand as she turned away. "It's been a while, hasn't it? I'm heading back downstairs, honey. Oh—and if you're joining us for dinner, Cosmo, just come on down, okay?"
"Okay, thank you," Cosmo managed, his face burning crimson.
As his mother descended the stairs, his sister remained frozen for a beat—then bolted after her.
"MOM! WAIT UP!"
The attic fell silent.
Cosmo exhaled shakily. A familiar weight leaned gently against his back—the quiet presence of someone who should not exist, yet undeniably did.
From somewhere below, a soft meow echoed.
In this house, the line between the ordinary and the impossible had already been crossed.
The golden hue of the afternoon sun filtered through the window in soft, forgiving bands, painting the walls in warmth that felt almost mocking. For Cosmo, there was nothing peaceful about it. The day had unraveled into a relentless chain of split-second decisions and frantic improvisation, each heartbeat echoing louder than the last.
"Well, I'm heading back downstairs, honey," his mother's voice floated in from the doorway, light and casual, as though nothing in the universe was amiss. She paused, fingers lifting in a familiar, absent-minded wave. "Oh! If you're joining us for dinner, Cosmo, just come on down, okay?"
"Okay, thank you," Cosmo replied automatically, the words scraping their way out of his throat. His body remained rigid, muscles locked, afraid that even the smallest movement might collapse the fragile illusion of normalcy.
He didn't breathe properly until the soft thud of her footsteps faded down the hall. From his position on the floor, he stared after her, lungs burning as he counted the seconds. He listened to the faint shuffle, the creak of the stair, the slow retreat of danger.
Only when silence settled did the tension finally snap.
"Mom! Wait up!" he called out—one last, desperate test to be sure she was really gone.
The air beside him shimmered.
A subtle shift—like heat rising off asphalt—pressed against his senses. Then warmth. Weight. A presence far too close. Slender, pale arms slipped around his shoulders, light but unmistakably real, and a familiar, feline face peeked over him with bright, gleaming eyes full of mischief.
"Meow!" the girl chirped.
Cosmo's heart jolted violently, slamming against his ribs as though trying to escape. He scrambled backward, nearly tangling his limbs, his face igniting in a deep, burning red that crept all the way to the tips of his ears. The room felt suffocatingly hot, the air thick with panic and embarrassment.
Without thinking, he lunged forward, arms flailing in a desperate, clumsy attempt to shield her from a doorway that—rationally—he knew was empty.
"Oh right, come to think of it—"
The door flew open again.
Cosmo's soul nearly left his body.
In blind terror, he threw himself fully in front of her, arms spread wide, blocking the view of the bed like a human barricade. He stood there trembling, every nerve screaming, his posture so stiff and unnatural that he resembled a panicked scarecrow.
"N-never mind!" his mother said cheerfully, clearly interpreting his behavior in some completely harmless way. She waved again, unbothered. "Bye-bye!"
The door clicked shut.
This time, for real.
Cosmo didn't hesitate. He spun around, grabbing the nearest pile of clothes and blankets with shaking hands. "Okay—enough already!" he hissed, his voice cracking under the sheer weight of humiliation. "Could you please just stay in cat form for now?!"
He shoved the fabric toward her in a frantic heap. "For now, just… take a seat!"
"Hmph."
With a single disgruntled sound, the girl vanished into the laundry. A moment later, a small dark cat's head popped out from the pile, ears flattened in an exaggerated pout. She adjusted herself, curling into the makeshift nest with a soft plop, tail flicking once in protest before settling.
Cosmo staggered back against his desk and slid down slightly, burying his face in one hand as he tried to steady his breathing. His pulse was still racing, his thoughts tangled and spiraling.
Being a cat owner was supposed to be calming.
At this rate, he wasn't sure his heart would survive the week.
The evening sun stretched long and low, casting amber shadows across the cramped apartment. The light bled through the window like a fading memory, dim and heavy, settling into corners that seemed suddenly too small to contain the truth of what had been revealed.
Ji-ho slumped onto his bed with a dull plop. The mattress dipped beneath him, but it did nothing to ground his thoughts. His glasses slid slightly down the bridge of his nose as he stared blankly at the ceiling, mind reeling from a conversation that had casually dismantled every rule he believed governed the modern world.
"Ugh… what the hell is going on?" he groaned, the words dissolving into the quiet air.
At the foot of the bed, something shifted.
A small, dark shape stirred within the shadows. The cat—no, the entity wearing the shape of one—offered no comfort. Its voice drifted upward instead, calm and strangely distant, as though discussing a mild inconvenience rather than cosmic upheaval.
"Darn it… looks like something went wrong during the fall," it said, more irritated by logistics than consequence.
Ji-ho pushed himself upright, his shadow stretching long and warped against the wall. "About that Zodiac Race…" he began carefully, his voice unsteady. "Do you mean something like those ancient folktales?"
The cat paused. A soft huff escaped it.
"Folktales? Ahem!" it scoffed. "Well, I guess it is pretty ancient… seeing as it's been three thousand years since the last one. Wow. Time really flies."
The room changed.
The air thickened, carrying the scent of pine needles and cold mountain mist. The walls seemed to dissolve, their edges blurring as reality peeled back to reveal something far older.
A primordial forest took shape.
Beneath the vast canopy of an ancient tree sat a figure draped in flowing white robes. Silver hair cascaded like moonlight, held in place by an ornate golden pin that caught the glow of something divine. Animals gathered nearby—a sheep, a rabbit, a pig—silent and reverent, bound together by a sacred stillness.
The figure reached out, gentle fingers brushing the head of a small creature.
"I must take my leave now," they murmured, their voice like wind through leaves.
Their gaze shifted to a small black cat crouched in the grass.
"Who among you wishes to journey with me?"
The vision collapsed.
The forest vanished, the scent fading, the glow extinguished like a candle snuffed out. Ji-ho found himself back in his dim room, the lingering sunset now harsh and oppressive.
"What did she say…?" he stammered. "Th-three thousand years…?"
"That's right," the cat replied, its eyes gleaming with an unsettling intelligence. "And today, I had no choice but to choose you."
The weight of its gaze pressed down on him, heavy and absolute. Ji-ho felt an unnatural lethargy seep into his limbs. His body grew sluggish, his eyelids impossibly heavy. This wasn't exhaustion—it was something else. Something binding.
"Um… why am I suddenly so sleepy…?" he murmured, his words trailing off as his head sank into the pillow.
The cat leaned closer, its silhouette stretching tall and ominous against the fading light. Its voice was the last thing Ji-ho heard before darkness claimed him.
"So I'm counting on you, Referee."
---
The morning sun filtered through the cluttered apartment in fractured lines, slicing the air into long, geometric shadows that stretched across the worn wooden floor. Dust motes drifted lazily through the light, suspended like fragments of time itself. For Han-ul, the shift from sleep to wakefulness wasn't gradual—it was violent.
He shot upright with a sharp, instinctive SPRING!
His heart thundered against his ribs, loud enough that he half-expected the neighbors to hear it. His hands clenched the white duvet, knuckles whitening as though the thin fabric were the only thing tethering him to reality. For several seconds, he didn't move at all.
The room was silent.
Only the distant, rhythmic CHIRP… CHIRP of birds seeped in through the cracked window, grounding and unbearably ordinary.
"Cat…" he whispered.
The word felt strange—too heavy, too deliberate to belong to a dream.
The images lingered behind his eyes, refusing to fade. A meadow drenched in impossible greens. Light that shimmered like water, bending around everything it touched. And at the center of it all—
A woman.
Her hair had flowed like spun silver, catching the light with every step she took through the tall grass. She moved with an effortless, otherworldly grace, long white robes trailing softly behind her as though the earth itself made room for her passage. Around her feet, small creatures gathered eagerly—a cat brushing against her ankle, a tiny chick hopping in frantic circles, and a strange blue being whose shape defied easy explanation.
Her voice had carried across the meadow, gentle yet absolute.
"Unfortunately, I can't take all of you with me."
The air itself seemed to hold its breath.
"There are only twelve seats," she continued, "and I shall determine who earns them… through the race."
Han-ul remembered the way her gaze had lowered then, settling on the black cat with gleaming golden eyes. He remembered the tenderness in her touch—the soft, deliberate pat pat of her hand against the cat's head—as she turned away.
The memory dissolved.
Han-ul blinked, the harsh fluorescent light of his room bleaching away the emerald glow of the dream. The mundane reality of his apartment came rushing back: the unmade bed, the faint hum of electricity, the stale scent of yesterday lingering in the air.
His eyes drifted to the empty space beside him.
"She's gone…?" he thought, his brow tightening. "Was it… a dream?"
He shook his head slowly, trying to scatter the remnants of sleep. Yet the sensation clung to him stubbornly. It hadn't felt like a dream. It felt like something remembered—something half-forgotten and only now resurfacing.
But reality pressed in, heavy and undeniable. Stacks of plastic water bottles stood by his desk. Clothes lay crumpled in careless heaps. The weight of another ordinary day loomed.
"Good thing I didn't oversleep," he muttered, forcing himself out of bed.
As his feet touched the floor, a colder memory slipped in uninvited.
The world drained of color.
A classroom—monochrome and suffocating. The smell of chalk dust and aged wood clung to the air. He saw her then: a girl with striking beauty and eyes that didn't blink often enough. Eyes that watched, calculated.
He remembered looking up from the floor.
A sock dangled inches from his face, swaying gently, deliberately. Laughter echoed around him. The heat of humiliation burned just as sharply now as it had then, crawling up his spine and settling deep in his chest.
Two worlds pressed against each other inside his mind.
One of divine races and silver-haired figures bathed in light.
And one of shadows, classrooms, and quiet cruelty.
He wasn't sure which frightened him more.
---
The morning light filtered through the window again—this time cold, pale, and unforgiving. Min-ho stared up at the ceiling, its faint cracks forming shapes he'd traced a thousand times before. The familiar weight of dread settled comfortably in his chest, like it had always belonged there.
"I really don't want to go to school…"
The thought lingered, heavy and persistent.
With a sigh that seemed to drain what little energy he had left, he forced himself upright. His body protested, every muscle sluggish, as if gravity had quietly doubled overnight. The room around him was cluttered with half-packed boxes and unopened cases of bottled water—evidence of a life caught mid-transition, or perhaps a life he simply didn't care enough to complete.
He pulled on his school shirt mechanically. In the mirror, his reflection stared back at him: eyes dull, shoulders slumped, a boy who looked like he'd already lived through the day before it had even begun.
---
The Secret Life Next Door
Unbeknownst to Min-ho, the stillness of his morning was being observed.
A sleek, dark cat sat perched on his windowsill, tail flicking lazily as it watched him through the glass. Its gaze was sharp, intelligent—far too aware to be natural.
Without warning, the cat crouched and LEAPED.
Its paws struck the neighboring balcony with a soft PAT, body vanishing into the adjacent apartment.
Inside, the air rippled.
Light flared briefly, accompanied by a quiet POOF, and the cat was gone. In its place stood a girl, stretching her arms above her head as her ears twitched instinctively. She hummed cheerfully to herself, already moving, already restless.
Blankets were tossed aside. Drawers were yanked open. Clothes flew in careless arcs as she rummaged through her closet with frantic efficiency. To the outside world, she was Rosie—or Lapin, depending on who asked. But here, in a room crowded with photos, soft pillows, and a massive teddy bear slumped against the wall, she was simply a girl outrunning her own secrets.
She paused briefly before the mirror.
Cat ears stood tall against her messy hair, unmistakable and unapologetic.
There was no time for the slow, suffocating ritual Min-ho endured each morning. She had momentum. Purpose. Even if today wasn't the day she'd take that purpose to school.
---
The Quiet Void
By the time the first bell rang, the classroom buzzed with familiar noise—laughter, complaints, half-finished conversations overlapping chaotically. Min-ho sat at his desk with his forehead pressed against the cool wood, eyes closed.
He didn't look up.
Nearby voices drifted toward him.
"Why do I always have to come to your class?" someone joked.
"Haha, why does that even matter?!" another replied. "By the way, Lapin didn't come to school today, right?"
Min-ho's ears twitched at the name.
He didn't move.
A strange, hollow sense of relief settled over him—quiet and guilty all at once. Rosie was noise. Light. A chaos he didn't know how to exist beside. Her presence made his own shadows feel sharper.
"Well… at least I get a day of peace since Rosie's absent today," he thought, eyes still shut.
He leaned into the silence, unaware that somewhere above the streets, somewhere beyond the classroom walls, the girl he was avoiding was likely watching the world from a rooftop—golden eyes alert, tail flicking restlessly—just as unsettled as he was weary.
---
The heavy, metallic THUD of the locker door reverberated down the hallway, sharp and final—like a gavel sealing a verdict.
Jiwon froze.
He hadn't meant to listen. He really hadn't. But the voices around the corner carried too clearly, slicing through the ambient noise of students packing bags and laughing their way out of class. The girls' tones were casual, careless—sharp-edged in the way only high school cruelty could be.
"By the way, Lapin didn't come to school today, right?" one of them said lightly, as if commenting on an absent teacher or a canceled quiz.
Another voice followed, amused. "You think she got hit with some payback because of that thing with that loser?"
A short, mocking laugh echoed. "Oh… Lapin? I mean, I do feel bad for her. What rotten luck, getting stuck with that loser…"
The word loser struck like a fist to Jiwon's chest.
His breath caught, sharp and painful. He didn't need clarification. He knew exactly who they meant. He was the thing. The problem. The burden she'd been unlucky enough to stand beside.
The hallway suddenly felt smaller, the air thinner, as though the walls were closing in. His heart slammed against his ribs in a frantic, uneven rhythm that drowned out the clatter of lockers and the distant after-school chatter.
Wait… is it really because of me…?!
The thought spiraled, cold and merciless. Guilt flooded him, heavy and suffocating, pressing down on his lungs until it hurt to breathe.
He didn't stop to reason. He didn't hesitate.
He moved.
The Desperate Sprint
Jiwon burst into a DASH.
His loafers screeched against the polished linoleum as he rounded the corner, barely keeping his footing. His glasses slid down his nose, the world blurring at the edges, but he didn't stop to fix them. He barely registered the startled shouts of students he nearly collided with or the weight of his backpack slamming rhythmically against his spine.
He tore through the school gates, lungs already beginning to burn. Each breath came harder than the last, sharp and ragged. Every step was driven by a single, terrifying image—Lapin, quiet and gentle Lapin, hurting somewhere alone because she'd been seen with him.
The city rushed past in streaks of gray and gold. Cracked pavement. Towering apartment blocks. The low hum of traffic blending into white noise. None of it mattered.
Please be okay.
The words repeated with every step, a desperate mantra pounding through his head.
The Silent Threshold
By the time he reached her building, Jiwon was bent double, hands braced against his knees as his breath came in ragged, painful PANTS. Sweat stung his eyes, his chest aching with every inhale.
He forced himself upright and staggered toward the door.
His hand trembled so badly he nearly missed the wood.
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
The sound echoed louder than it should have.
He waited.
The silence on the other side stretched, thick and unbearable. His gaze dropped to the neatly lined shoes by the entrance—pairs upon pairs, orderly and unfamiliar.
None of them were hers.
The door finally creaked open.
"Um, e-excuse me…" Jiwon stammered, his voice cracking, thin from exhaustion and nerves. "Is Lapin home by any chance?"
The person inside tilted their head, confusion flickering across their face. "Hm? She's at school. Didn't you finish class together?"
Something inside Jiwon collapsed.
"Oh… of course," he lied automatically, forcing a brittle smile that felt like it might shatter. "Um… I guess we must've missed each other. Thank you!"
He turned away before they could see the panic surging back into his eyes. As he descended the stairs, he sucked in a sharp, jagged GASP of air.
If she wasn't home—
And she wasn't at school—
Where was she?
Panic clawed at his chest, cold and merciless, a stark contrast to the fire burning through his lungs. He burst into Room 2-4, the door swinging wide—
Empty desks.
Silent air.
The absence hit harder than noise ever could.
Wait… is it really because of me…?!
The thought crushed down on him. Had he pushed her away? Had yesterday—his words, his reaction—been the breaking point?
He didn't stop to analyze it.
He ran.
Back into the hallway. His footsteps echoed like gunshots against the linoleum.
DASH. DASH.
He couldn't breathe. His chest burned, his legs screamed, but he didn't slow. He reached her apartment again, pounding on the door with shaking fists.
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
"Um, e-excuse me… is Lapin home by any chance?" he gasped.
The same confused voice answered. "Hm? She's at school. Didn't you finish class together?"
His heart sank straight through his chest.
"Ah—of course. Um… I guess we missed each other. Thank you!"
He spun away and bolted down the stairs, the wind roaring in his ears. His phone was already in his hand—again.
No replies.
No missed calls.
No sign of life.
A sick feeling settled deep in his gut.
He ran until his legs gave out. Through alleys, past storefronts, down side streets as the sun dipped lower, painting the city gold. Finally, his body betrayed him.
He collapsed against the pavement.
"HA… HA… HAA…"
His breath came in broken gasps as he gripped his knees, head hanging low. Sweat dripped onto the tiles beneath his sneakers.
I can't find her… anywhere…
Then—
A heavy rhythm echoed in his ears.
DU. DUN.
A shadow stretched across him.
Jiwon looked up, squinting against the warm glow of the setting sun. A girl stood there, casually licking a popsicle, baseball cap pulled low, cropped ringer tee fluttering slightly in the evening breeze.
But it wasn't just any girl.
Beneath the brim, glowing amber eyes with slit pupils locked onto his.
Behind her, a long, dark tail flicked with unmistakable, predatory ease.
"WH—WHAT?!" Jiwon scrambled to his feet, glasses nearly slipping off his sweat-slicked face. "The cat woman from yesterday?! I—I mean, Nina?!"
She stared at him, expression unreadable, popsicle still in her mouth. "I already explained yesterday, didn't I?" she replied, her words muffled.
"Wh-what's going on?!" Panic surged through him. His thoughts raced, dread piling upon dread. He grabbed her arm without thinking and hurried her toward the shadow of a nearby building.
"Hold on! You're out in public like this?" he hissed, glancing around wildly. "Anyone can see you're a cat!"
Panic clawed at my chest as I scanned the crowded street, my eyes darting from face to face, storefront to storefront. People moved around me in careless streams—laughing, checking their phones, living lives blissfully untouched by the dread tightening around my ribs. I needed to find Lapin. I needed to find her now. Every wasted second pressed down on me like a growing weight, heavy and suffocating.
Then someone stepped directly into my path.
I skidded to a halt, nearly colliding with her. She stood there without a hint of urgency, casually licking a popsicle as if the world weren't on the verge of tearing itself apart inside my head. Her posture was loose, relaxed—infuriatingly calm.
"Ah, that girl from yesterday?" she mused, tilting her head slightly. Her voice carried a strange hum beneath it, something knowing, something that made my skin prickle. With a lazy flick of her wrist, she tossed the wooden stick aside. "So… it's already begun."
"Begun?" The word barely registered before my body moved. I lunged forward, hands gripping her shoulders, fingers tightening as my pulse roared in my ears. "What do you mean?! What's begun?!"
She didn't flinch.
Not even a little.
Instead, a low, unsettling "Heh" slipped from her lips. A sharp fang caught the light as her mouth curved into a smirk that felt all wrong. That was when I noticed it.
My gaze dropped.
Behind her, swaying lazily from side to side, was a long, slender tail—dark, sleek, moving with rhythmic, feline indifference.
My breath hitched.
"Hold on!" I hissed, releasing her and spinning in place, my eyes sweeping the street in frantic arcs. "You're out in public like this?! Anyone can see you—you're a—a cat!"
She blinked up at me, wide-eyed and innocent, still chewing on the last of her popsicle. "How?" she asked plainly. "I'm wearing a hat."
"Are you kidding me?!" My voice cracked, hysteria bleeding through. "Your tail is sticking right out! It's—" I stopped myself, dragging a hand through my hair, shaking my head hard. "Never mind. That's not even what matters right now."
I sucked in a breath, preparing to demand answers about Lapin—
And then the sky broke.
There was no warning. No buildup. Just a sudden, violent rupture.
A blinding pillar of light erupted from the horizon—a colossal spear of gold that pierced the heavens with a deafening roar. The air trembled. The ground shuddered beneath my feet. I staggered backward, barely keeping my balance as instinctively I threw an arm over my eyes.
The world dissolved into white-hot brilliance.
"Wh—what is that thing…?" I gasped, squinting through the glare, my vision swimming as heat and pressure washed over me.
Beside me, the girl went completely still.
The playful smirk vanished as if it had never existed. Her posture straightened, rigid and alert. When she turned, her eyes were no longer merely sharp—they burned. A fierce, golden light ignited within them, perfectly mirroring the pillar blazing across the sky.
"The descent of the Zodiac Spirits," she whispered.
The words sank into the air like a pronouncement.
The atmosphere grew thick, heavy, charged with something ancient and overwhelming. My skin prickled, every instinct screaming danger. In that moment, a sick realization settled in my gut—whatever was happening, Lapin was no longer the center of the storm.
The world itself was.
My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. The city around us was bathed in a sickly, artificial gold, shadows stretching long and jagged across the pavement, twisting familiar shapes into something hostile and wrong. The air felt dense, oppressive, buzzing with unseen power.
"We need to move," she barked.
It wasn't just urgency in her voice—it was command. Sharp. Absolute. My body reacted before my mind could catch up.
"ZOOM."
The world lurched.
One moment I was standing; the next, I was being dragged forward at impossible speed. Buildings smeared into streaks of color. Wind tore past my ears, stealing my breath as my feet struggled to keep pace. I stumbled, barely managing not to fall, my glasses sliding dangerously down my nose.
"In other words," she continued, her voice steady, controlled, utterly unfazed by our breakneck pace, "all twelve Zodiac Spirits are coming down to Earth to proceed with the race."
"Wait—so what happens now?!" I wheezed, lungs burning, thoughts spiraling. Zodiac Spirits. Earth. A race. The words clashed violently with the reality of asphalt pounding beneath my shoes.
She didn't slow.
"First," she said, "the Descent Ritual is underway."
She glanced back at me.
I flinched.
Her eyes glowed brighter, predatory, inhuman. "And… it looks like one of them has already descended… into that girl."
Cold flooded my veins. My thoughts scattered, images flashing unbidden—faces in the crowd, ordinary people, unaware that something ancient could hollow them out from the inside.
"By 'that girl,' do you mean—" My voice cracked as I shouted over the rushing wind. "Lapin?! Why her of all people?!"
"It's a long story," she snapped.
DASH.
She surged forward again, pulling me into an even deeper sprint. I glanced at her—really looked this time. The tail flickering behind her. The effortless, animal grace in every stride. She wasn't just a girl in a baseball cap anymore.
She was something else entirely.
"Listen carefully," she said, her voice dropping into a low, serious rumble that cut through the chaos. "…You, as the Referee, need to get all twelve spirits to participate in this game."
My foot caught. I barely managed to keep myself upright.
The word echoed in my head.
Referee.
"What do you mean—get them to?!" I shouted, panic rising. "What if I can't?!"
The city loomed around us—towering, silent, indifferent—as the weight of a divine game settled squarely onto my shoulders. I was just a student in a tan blazer.
And somehow, impossibly, I was now the only thing standing between fragile order and a race powerful enough to tear the world apart.
.
I pressed my back harder against the cold metal shelving of the storage room, the chill seeping through my uniform and straight into my spine. I pulled my knees tight to my chest, making myself as small as possible, as if I could shrink into the narrow gap between rusted racks and forgotten equipment. The air was thick with the stale smell of old basketballs, rubber, and dust that had settled here for years—but no matter how deeply I breathed, it couldn't smother the dread clawing its way up my throat.
"Lapin! Are you in here?!"
The voice echoed down the hallway, sharp and insistent, each syllable striking like a hammer blow. My stomach dropped. It was him. The sound alone was enough to make my fingers curl into my sleeves. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the shadows to close in around me, to erase me completely.
My heart pounded wildly, slamming against my ribs like a trapped bird desperate for escape.
Don't come any closer… please.
The storage room door groaned open.
A thin blade of golden light cut through the darkness, slicing across the floor and crawling up the walls. Dust motes ignited in its glow, swirling slowly as the faded STORAGE sign fluttered weakly beneath a heavy hand. The warmth of the sunset did nothing to comfort me. This heat felt wrong—oppressive, suffocating.
I didn't have to look up.
I could feel them.
Malice rolled off their presence, thick and tangible, pressing against my skin like a fever. It had nothing to do with the sun.
"Then that girl gets devoured by the spirit," a voice hissed, playful and cruel, each word dripping with delight. "Simple as that."
A violent shiver tore through me. Cold sweat broke out across my back, soaking into the fabric of my clothes. Through the tangled curtain of my hair, I caught a glimpse—just enough.
A white baseball cap.
A grin stretched far too wide, teeth flashing sharp and predatory. Her eyes glowed with an unnatural amber light, locked onto me with terrifying focus. It was the look of a wolf that had finally cornered its prey.
"So hurry up," she commanded coolly, her voice overlapping with the sound of footsteps entering the room. "And catch her."
A shoe scuffed against the linoleum.
HALT.
The sound sent a fresh surge of terror ripping through my body. They were right there—close enough that I could hear their breathing, feel the shift of the air as they moved. I was trapped, boxed in by towering racks of equipment and a fate I couldn't even begin to understand.
The spirit they talked about.
The way she was looking at me.
My hands shook violently as I buried my face in my arms, teeth clenched to keep from crying out. My entire body trembled so hard I thought my bones might rattle apart. The storage room—once a quiet place to hide—had become something else entirely.
A golden-hued tomb.
The wind lashed against my face, sharp and biting, tearing the breath from my lungs as I watched her—or whatever was left of her—bolt away with inhuman speed. The sudden force nearly knocked me backward, my shoes skidding as I struggled to stay upright.
"What's the matter…? Why—" My voice broke apart, swallowed by the violent gust that roared between us.
"I SAID STAY BACK!"
Her scream cut through the air, raw and desperate, the sound carrying a weight that slammed straight into my chest. Before I could even blink, she was gone—a blur of motion, a streak of blonde tearing across the darkening city skyline.
"Wh—what?!" I gasped, heart hammering violently. "She's incredibly fast…!"
The realization hit like ice water. I spun toward my companion, panic surging as the severity of the situation crashed down on me all at once. "Go after her! She's not completely possessed yet!"
We took the stairs two at a time, metal clanging beneath our feet as we raced upward. Every step echoed, loud and frantic, until we burst onto the rooftop.
She was there.
Perched dangerously close to the edge.
Against the vast sprawl of the city, she looked impossibly small—fragile even—but the energy rolling off her told a different story. The air around her vibrated, heavy and unstable, crackling with something unnatural.
"Lapin, listen!" I shouted, stretching out a hand as though distance itself might bend for me. "You need to join this Zodiac Race thing! Just participate, and your body will go back to normal!"
She didn't respond.
She didn't even turn her head.
Instead, the air around her began to shimmer, light warping and twisting as an ethereal glow gathered like a living thing.
"Th-then…" I glanced at my friend, and in that split second, no words were needed. The truth was written plainly in both our faces. We couldn't let her fall. We couldn't let her disappear into the night like this. "…we must catch her here and now!"
We nodded sharply to each other, bracing ourselves.
The wind surged again, louder now, carrying with it the sharp scent of ozone—and something far older, something that didn't belong to this world. Muscles tensed. Breath steadied.
We lunged forward together, driven by the terrifying certainty that if we failed here, the girl we knew as Lapin might be lost forever.
The cool night air bit sharply at my exposed skin as I leaned over the railing, the cold metal pressing into my palms. My eyes stayed locked on the girl standing beside me. She didn't hesitate. She didn't second-guess. She simply gave a short, decisive nod—a signal that carried far more finality than words ever could.
Then she was gone.
"SWOOSH!"
The violent displacement of air snapped past my ears, tugging at my clothes as I lurched forward on instinct. My fingers scraped against the fence, gripping the cold metal hard enough to sting. My heart slammed wildly against my ribs, each beat frantic and uneven, as I craned my neck downward into the abyss below.
"What even is this…?" I breathed, the words barely escaping my throat, swallowed by the open night.
Far below, she was falling.
No—not falling.
She was soaring.
The world beneath us wasn't the city I knew anymore. It was vast, inverted, unreal—an enormous, shimmering stadium suspended against the night, ringed by endless grids of light. Against that impossible backdrop, her figure streaked through the air like a blazing comet, cutting through gravity as if it were nothing more than a suggestion.
"WH—WHAT…?!" I shouted, shock tearing out of me before I could stop it.
She spun effortlessly through the air, her movements fluid and precise, as though the sky itself had accepted her as its own. Long silver-white hair streamed behind her like a silken banner, catching moonlight with every turn. Massive ribbon-like appendages—ears, impossibly long and alive—curled and snapped in the rushing wind, carving elegant arcs through the darkness.
She looked back up.
Her eyes widened just slightly as they caught the glow of the full moon, which hung behind her like a divine halo. For a breathless second, moonlight, motion, and silence aligned perfectly.
I couldn't look away.
She was terrifying.
She was beautiful.
And somewhere between those two truths, something cold and sharp slid into my mind—not a sound exactly, but a realization with teeth.
There she is… my first opponent.
The thought echoed with predatory clarity, carrying intent far older than fear.
She wasn't just a girl in a school uniform anymore.
She was something else entirely—something ancient, something bound to rules and violence and a game I didn't yet understand but was already trapped inside.
Rank Four of the Twelve Zodiac Spirits.
Below, she straightened her body in mid-air, aligning herself with the howling wind. Power rippled around her form, invisible yet undeniable, as though the sky itself were bracing for impact.
Her presence sharpened.
Her gaze hardened.
She looked ready to tear the heavens apart.
"RABBIT."
The night air shattered with a dull, heavy THUD as the boy hit the rooftop. His breath caught painfully in his throat, a strangled sound escaping him as he scrambled forward. He slammed into the chain-link fence, fingers going white as they locked around the cold metal, knuckles aching beneath the pressure.
Behind oversized glasses, his eyes were wide—too wide—reflecting the distant city lights and a terror he couldn't begin to process.
"La… pin…?!" he stammered, the name barely audible against the vast, indifferent skyline.
Below him, a figure vanished over the edge.
L-Lapin was gone.
The fall stretched endlessly, time freezing as panic surged like electricity through his veins.
"Did L-Lapin… just fall…?" The words sounded wrong even as he spoke them, hollow and unreal.
He didn't even have a second to scream before a firm hand clamped down on his arm. The sudden force yanked him backward, tearing him away from the ledge.
"Ugh, come on," a sharp, feminine voice snapped, slicing cleanly through his spiral. "We don't have time for this."
He spun around.
She stood there—feline ears upright, tail flicking with clear irritation. Her yellow eyes glowed faintly in the dark, not with fear, but with annoyance. She looked at the situation the way someone might look at a spilled drink.
"How annoying," she muttered, clicking her tongue. "Of all things to be possessed by, it had to be the rabbit."
The boy stared back at the empty space beyond the railing, his face twisted in silent disbelief.
Are you serious? Someone just fell off a building!!!
But she was already moving.
In a sudden, explosive burst, she blurred past him. No hesitation. No pause. She vaulted forward and leapt straight into the void.
"Hurry, darn it!" she barked over her shoulder. "We'll lose her!!"
He froze, helpless, watching as she plunged after the falling figure.
Mid-air, her arm shot out.
She caught Lapin.
The motion was seamless, impossible—her strength defying gravity itself. Together, they became a silhouette against the glowing grid of the city, predator and prey entwined in freefall, or perhaps a hunter simply refusing to let her prize slip away.
The boy's legs finally gave out.
He collapsed against the fence with a hollow plop, knees hitting the concrete as the world spun around him. His chest burned, lungs aching, thoughts tangled beyond repair.
He was out of his depth.
This was a world where people fell from skyscrapers—and others jumped after them like it was nothing.
Panic is a cold, sharp blade.
It sliced cleanly through my chest as I watched the figure tip over the edge of the rooftop.
"Are you serious?!" I screamed, my voice cracking as it tore through the night wind. "Someone just fell off a building!!!"
My heart thundered violently, each beat rattling my ribs. Below us, the city lights smeared into dizzying streaks of neon and shadow.
I didn't think.
I couldn't.
If I hesitated, even for a second, I'd be standing here watching a tragedy unfold in perfect clarity.
"Hurry, darn it!" I shouted, eyes locked on the falling shapes. "We'll lose her—no, we'll lose them both!"
I hurled myself toward the ledge.
The world collapsed into rushing air and screaming wind. Below me, the cat-eared girl was already in motion. She wasn't falling.
She was hunting.
She plunged downward with terrifying, joyful precision, her laughter bursting free—bright, wild, unhinged.
"BAHAHAHA!"
My own scream ripped out of me in answer.
"GAAAAHHH!!"
I saw her arm snap forward, fingers closing around the boy's hand mid-air. The force of it should've torn them apart.
It didn't.
She twisted effortlessly, banking off the side of the building, her movements a blur of violet hair, flashing teeth, and raw exhilaration.
She glanced back up at me mid-fall.
A wide, toothy grin split her face, yellow eyes gleaming with unfiltered thrill.
To her, this wasn't terror.
This wasn't danger.It was a playground.
(๑•́ ₃ •̀๑)