Has senpai returned safely yet?
Staring at the faint light outside her window, Yotsuya Miko found herself lost in thought.
The girl hadn't slept all night.
After learning that Takakai had entered another dungeon—that he'd died and rewound multiple times, even reaching out to her for help—Miko's heart had been in turmoil, unable to settle.
What kind of place did senpai go to? Is he okay? Will he make it through this time?
Questions swirled in her mind, but she had no one to answer them. She hadn't accompanied Takakai into the dungeon, and even when her consciousness returned to the Crimson City during his rewinds, she couldn't act or communicate freely. So, after his rewinds stopped, the anxious girl lay awake until dawn, unable to close her eyes.
It's been hours since the last rewind.
Sitting up in bed, Miko closed her eyes, deep in thought.
With senpai's skills, if he stopped rewinding, he must've resolved whatever crisis required outside help.
So now, he's either safely back in the real world… or still calmly investigating inside the dungeon.
Should I call him?
She hesitated.
If he's still in the dungeon, the call probably won't go through…
But regardless, it had been hours since she'd last been dragged back into that Crimson City, forced to rewatch that same infuriating TV program.
…Whatever. I'll just try.
After a long internal struggle, Miko took a deep breath and made up her mind.
Doing nothing changes nothing. Only by acting can you get results. It was a simple truth—even if Miko herself didn't fully understand the feelings driving her right now.
"Ring— Ring—"
The dial tone echoed softly as the pajama-clad girl sat on her bed, swinging her bare feet absently, her mind already spiraling into overthinking again.
How is senpai doing right now?
He said he wouldn't enter another dungeon for at least two weeks… Why did he go back so soon?
And last time, when my consciousness returned to the Crimson City, I think I heard him say a name… "Hayasaka"? Was that a girl's name? …For some reason, that makes me uneasy.
She couldn't explain why that name unsettled her.
Just like when she'd first visited Shuchi'in Academy, meeting Shijō Maki and Fujiwara Chika—hearing them talk about Takakai, realizing they were his teammates—she'd felt the same inexplicable anxiety. Even now, she didn't understand why.
"Ring— Ring—"
Thirty seconds passed with no answer.
Senpai must not be back yet… But I'll wait a little longer.
Just as she thought this, the call connected.
"Hello? Miko? You're calling me? Ah, I got back last night—sorry, I was exhausted and forgot to message you. I'm safe, don't worry. Just helped a friend with something risky, but it's all resolved now. Oh, and thanks for relaying the message to Maki—without that, things would've been way harder."
Takakai's voice came through quickly, almost hurried.
In the background, faint noises suggested he was somewhere crowded—maybe outside.
"I'm just glad senpai's safe. Last night really scared me… I kept wondering what happened to you…"
Hearing his relaxed tone, Miko's tension melted away. She subconsciously patted her chest, exhaling in relief.
"Yeah, it's a long story. I'll explain properly later when I'm free. Right now, I've still got some loose ends to tie up, so let's talk another time, okay?"
Though his tone remained casual, there was an odd urgency to his words—like something pressing demanded his attention.
Miko, however, was too relieved to notice. With her worries eased, her brain had effectively shut down from exhaustion.
"Mm, I'll wait for senpai to reach out then. Please rest well, and don't push yourself too hard."
She ended the call with a yawn, glancing at the clock—10:30 AM—before sluggishly deciding to get up and wash.
…Actually.
Maybe a quick nap first.
Fatigue crashed over her like a wave. She flopped back onto the bed, eyes closing instantly.
Meanwhile, on the other end of the line, Takakai set down his phone—then looked forward at the brunette currently straddling his lap, her arms looped around his neck as she tried (and failed) to steady her breathing.
Yep. She's not happy.
"You certainly have many girls worrying about you, don't you, Hiro-kun?"
Maki arched an eyebrow, her displeasure utterly unsubtle.
"Ahem, that's not important. Right now, I'm with you."
Takakai kept his expression perfectly neutral, the picture of righteousness—despite currently sitting on a luxury hotel bed with Maki, who was clad only in two sheer black stockings (one of which was already torn, exposing a smooth stretch of calf).
"You're the one who dragged me here, you insatiable pervert. With this many girls clinging to you, you'd better manage your time wisely. Especially since tomorrow, you've got a date with oba-sama."
She tapped a finger against his lips, her tone teasing rather than accusatory, a slight smirk playing at the corners of her mouth—irresistibly tempting.
And when it came to such temptations, Takakai had never been one to resist.
Leaning down, he pressed a deep kiss to the side of her neck—then gently pushed forward, pinning her smaller frame beneath him on the bed.
Slender pale fingers intertwined with his rougher, tanned ones.
"Nn… S-Slow down…"
"Sorry. Got a little carried away."
"Just because… that maid hugged you… you got all excited, you变态笨蛋Hiro-kun…"
"Then, Maki, can you call me Master?"
"Never… in a million years… Nn… I said… slow… ah…"
Playful whispers filled the dim, curtained room.
As for what followed—some things were better left unsaid.
(On a side note: The fake teaching credentials Takakai had Maki arrange were now revoked. While the idea had been amusing, Takakai wasn't cut out for educating youths—especially not while dating multiple high school girls. So by morning, he'd asked Maki to scrap the identity, reverting to his original cover: the security guard famously "kept" by wealthy JK heiresses.
Not that he minded the reputation.)
America
Gunfire echoed through the streets as two black men in white shirts traded shots with a convenience store owner, their shouts drowned out by the roar of pistols and a shotgun. Nearby, three others looted the store, shoving goods into a shopping cart before bolting.
Passersby barely glanced their way—just another day in the city.
From a high-rise window, a pair of eyes watched the scene with undisguised disgust.
"Pointless violence. Ugly desires. Filthy, mutual destruction. Humans never change. No wonder players are tested by God—sent into the hellish dungeons to seek the path of transcendence, to cleanse our original sin and return to Eden."
The figure turned away, addressing the room's other occupants.
"Report."
One man stepped forward, voice low.
"No leads yet. But Fate suggests something major approaches. Our target may surface then. Also… the one we've been hunting might appear as well."
A cold smile curled the leader's lips as he placed a single bullet on the table.
A bullet stripped of all power.
A bullet once soaked in black blood.