Darkness lingered like the aftermath of a storm.

  Then—

  Her eyes snapped open.

  The young goblin inhaled sharply, fingers curling against a smooth wooden surface beneath her. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she braced for pain.

  But none came.

  No burning curse crawling through her veins.

  No suffocating pressure crushing her lungs.

  No sensation of flesh tearing itself apart.

  The agony was gone.

  Her ears twitched instinctively.

  "Miss Haruna... Miss Haruna!"

  A male voice. Calm. Slightly strained. Laced with the kind of restrained frustration reserved for someone who had called a name too many times.

  Before she could orient herself, something small struck her forehead.

  Instinct overtook thought.

  Her hand shot up and caught the object mid-air. She rose from her seat in a single fluid motion, muscles coiled, eyes sharp and predatory.

  Silence.

  An unnatural silence.

  Her gaze swept the room—

  —and she froze.

  She stood inside a strange rectangular chamber built from pale wooden panels and smooth white walls. Light poured in through enormous glass windows lining one side of the room. The sky outside was bright blue.

  The ceiling held rectangular panels that glowed without flame.

  No torches.

  No magic crystals.

  Just steady, artificial light.

  Before her stood rows upon rows of wooden desks arranged with strict precision, each paired with a simple chair. Upon them rested thin bound books filled with symbols, neat stacks of paper, metal-tipped writing instruments, and unfamiliar rectangular devices made of glass and dark metal.

  Humans.

  Dozens of them.

  Young. Around her apparent age.

  Dressed identically in dark garments tailored neatly to their bodies. The males wore fitted trousers and jackets. The females wore pleated skirts and crisp white blouses with colored ribbons tied at their collars.

  Every single one of them stared at her.

  Not in fear.

  Not in hostility.

  In confusion.

  At the front of the room stood a tall human male wearing spectacles. He held a piece of white chalk in one hand, a textbook in the other. Behind him, a dark green board was covered in precise white symbols.

  They were not magic circles.

  Not runes.

  They were orderly. Mundane. Repetitive.

  "Miss Haruna," the teacher said again, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Are you feeling unwell? You've been sleeping for five minutes."

  Haruna?

  Her?

  Her thoughts spiraled.

  Haruna? Who is he calling?

  Her breathing grew shallow.

  She looked down at herself.

  Her usual tribal armor was gone.

  In its place—

  She wore the same strange garments as the others. A dark pleated skirt brushing against her thighs. A fitted white blouse buttoned neatly at the front. A ribbon tied carefully at her collar.

  Cloth so clean it almost felt fragile.

  She flexed her fingers.

  Human skin.

  Smooth.

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  No claws.

  No hardened calluses from sword training.

  Her ears—

  She reached up instinctively.

  Round.

  Round.

  Her pulse spiked violently.

  This wasn't illusion magic.

  It felt too solid.

  Too detailed.

  Where am I?!

  Without hesitation, she turned toward the nearest exit. A sliding door fitted with a large glass panel.

  Glass.

  Fragile.

  A weak point.

  She lunged.

  The door exploded under the force of her shoulder, shards scattering as gasps filled the classroom. She stumbled slightly from the sudden give but forced herself upright and bolted into the hallway.

  Voices erupted behind her.

  "Haruna?!"

  "Hey, what the hell?!"

  But no one screamed in terror.

  No one called her a monster.

  She ran through the corridor.

  It was narrow and bright, lined with identical doors and long windows overlooking the outside grounds. Humans flooded the passage, dressed the same, holding books, chatting casually.

  She collided with one.

  Then another.

  "Watch where you're going!"

  "HEY!"

  They reacted with irritation. Shock.

  Not fear.

  It made her chest tighten.

  She reached a staircase.

  Down.

  Escape.

  Two students were climbing upward from below, blocking her path.

  Without slowing, she pivoted and sprinted upward instead.

  Her breathing grew ragged.

  Her shoes—strange flat footwear—slipped against the polished floor.

  She stumbled.

  Caught herself.

  Kept running.

  The higher she climbed, the quieter the building became.

  At the end of the top corridor stood another door. This one heavier. Metal frame. A rectangular glass window revealing open sky beyond it.

  She didn't hesitate.

  She charged.

  The door burst open under her impact, slamming violently against the outer wall as she stumbled forward—

  —and stopped.

  Wind struck her face.

  Cold.

  Clean.

  Open.

  She stood on a vast flat rooftop made of gray concrete. The surface stretched wide and empty, broken only by painted boundary lines and a few utility structures near the edges.

  Metal fencing surrounded the entire perimeter, woven tightly and rising high into the sky like a cage pretending to be protection.

  Beyond it—

  A city.

  Her breath caught.

  Towering structures made of glass and steel rose endlessly toward the horizon. They were too straight. Too deliberate. Too unnatural. Narrow roads crisscrossed below, filled with metal carriages that moved without horses. The air hummed faintly with distant engines and human activity.

  No forests.

  No open plains.

  Just civilization.

  Dense.

  Endless.

  Overwhelming.

  Her heart pounded slower now, confusion overtaking panic.

  This place felt real.

  Too real.

  "Haruna, is it?"

  A familiar voice spoke from behind her.

  "I swear, that idiot comes up with the most unoriginal names imaginable."

  Her body stiffened.

  She turned.

  And there she was.

  Hana.

  But not the Hana she knew.

  She stood in human form, as solid and natural as the others below. Long dark hair flowed freely down her back, shimmering under the sunlight. She wore the same uniform as the other girls—dark pleated skirt, white blouse fitted neatly to her frame, ribbon tied flawlessly at her collar.

  She looked ordinary.

  Like any other human student.

  Yet her presence warped the air around her.

  Her eyes remained unchanged.

  Sharp.

  Knowing.

  "Lady Hana—" Haruna breathed instinctively.

  "Relax," Hana replied casually, walking toward her with unhurried steps. "You're not dead."

  She placed a hand on Haruna's shoulder. Solid. Warm.

  "I told you before," Hana continued, flashing a small sly smile, "you're a natural talent."

  She walked past her and rested her arms atop the metal fence, gazing out at the city.

  "You getting injured was enough to make him go completely berserk."

  A faint laugh escaped her.

  "Guess he sees it too."

  Haruna blinked. "Sees... what?"

  "Relatability."

  Hana tilted her head slightly.

  "Maybe he sees himself in you. Just like I saw him in you."

  Haruna's lips parted, confusion clouding her features. "But... I never even knew him before..."

  "You don't need history to feel familiar," Hana said calmly. "Sometimes people just mirror the same cracks."

  She glanced at Haruna.

  "You blame yourself constantly. You overthink. You analyze every variable. Yet when survival demands selfishness... you hesitate."

  Haruna flinched.

  Hana continued softly.

  "He's the same. Intelligent. Capable. But he never learned how to prioritize himself when it mattered."

  She turned to face Haruna fully.

  "You're still in that fragile balance between awareness and foolishness. You can change. He... never had the chance."

  Haruna's chest tightened painfully.

  "I think," Hana added, her voice quieter now, "he sees you as the version of himself he lost back then."

  Silence hung between them.

  Then, with a teasing smirk, Hana added, "Should I be jealous? Maybe. But I'm always number one, obviously."

  Haruna's face flushed immediately. "I would never even—!"

  Hana laughed lightly. "Relax. I'm just kidding."

  She turned back toward the skyline.

  "I wonder if I'll ever miss this view..."

  The wind tugged gently at her hair.

  Haruna's thoughts raced.

  The city.

  The uniforms.

  The humans acting as if she belonged.

  It clicked.

  "Lady Hana..." she said hesitantly. "What is this place?"

  Hana smiled faintly.

  "Home."

  A small pause followed.

  "It was. Until he left."

  Her gaze softened.

  "Now it's just a cluster of memories. The good ones and painful ones."

  Haruna's suspicions crystallized.

  Her master—

  Was not born in her world.

  He came from this one.

  An other-worlder.

  The revelation barely settled before Hana turned back to her, extending her hand.

  "Come on, Haruna."

  Her smile now felt different.

  Warmer.

  Almost familial.

  "Let's go home."

  The moment the words reached her ears—

  The world shattered.

  The sky fractured like glass. The buildings splintered into shards of light. The rooftop beneath her feet cracked and collapsed into a consuming void.

  Haruna gasped as her body began to fracture.

  Thin cracks spread across her skin, glowing blue and magenta from within. Energy poured out in brilliant streams. Her limbs lengthened. Her presence expanded.

  Power flooded her veins.

  It should have been agony.

  Instead, it felt like stretching after being confined for too long.

  Then—

  Everything vanished.

  No light.

  No sound.

  No body.

  Only endless abyss.

  Silence pressed against her consciousness.

  Then—

  A presence emerged.

  Heavy.

  Vast.

  Ancient.

  Hana's voice echoed once more.

  But it was different.

  Layered.

  Deeper.

  "Well now..."

  The darkness pulsed.

  "You're fortunate."

  The void tightened subtly around her drifting awareness.

  "You are a fragment of her soul."

  A pause.

  "Otherwise... I would have devoured you."

  The words were calm.

  Terrifyingly calm.

  Haruna trembled.

  A soft laugh rippled through the abyss.

  "Know your place, little fragment. You have to be strong enough to properly serve your master..."

  The presence grew closer. Warmer.

  Possessive.

  "So, I will make an exception and allow your growth. But If you ever allow betrayal to bloom within your thoughts..."

  The pressure intensified.

  "You will beg for the mercy of a shattered soul."

  Silence.

  Then, almost gently—

  "He's only mine to protect."

  The presence receded.

  Leaving Haruna suspended in darkness.

  Marked.

  Warned.

  And changed.

  ...