- Agents -
What's happening to me?
I don't know how long I've been running, but my lungs feel like they're burning from the inside out. My legs move without asking permission. Every step is a punch of pain. And my arm—
A knife digs into it.
The katana—that cursed blade—it didn't just stay in my hands. It ate into them. Melted into my skin like molten lead. Fused muscle and bone with steel. Like some nightmare blacksmith was hammering me from the inside, forging something wrong.
Black substance builds up from my palm to my arm. I try to get it off. It won't. My vision blurs. The world tilts. I stumble forward, not sure if I'm running toward safety or just trying to outrun what I've done.
But I can't outrun it.
The city changes around me. The lights grow dimmer. The air heavier. I pass alleys where vendors once sold knockoff chips and bootlegged memory drives. Now, there are only shadows. And eyes that blink when I look away.
I must be hallucinating.
Then the street ends—or maybe it never really existed.
Two men step out from a collapsed storefront, all smiles and teeth. One wears a jacket too big for him, patched with wires and stolen logos. The other has a scar splitting his lip like a zipper.
"Look what wandered in," one says, grinning wide enough to scare me. "We got ourselves a little stray."
"You lost, kid?"
I try to tell them to back off. To leave me alone. But my throat is full of smoke and fear. All I manage is a broken whisper.
They laugh.
They come closer.
I turn to run—but my legs are slow. Heavy. One grabs me by the hair, yanks hard. My vision splits in two. My body lurches forward, disconnected.
I turn my head—
—and then—
Schhhk.
Their heads aren't there anymore.
They roll. One left, one right. Blood sprays like a broken faucet, delayed, like reality buffering.
I think I scream.
I can't hear anything but the humming in my skull. The katana-arm hums with me.
I kick off the corpses. Kick off the blood. Kick off the pain. Keep running.
Through alleys that stretch too long.
Over pavement that breathes beneath my feet.
Through parts of the Board that no longer pretend to be part of a city.
It gets darker.
Colder.
Lonelier.
Until the world just—
Stops.
I am completely detached.
I'm not even Steven anymore. I'm just a scream in a body that's wrong.
This can't be real. This has to be a dream.
A horrible, violent dream.
Any minute now, I'll wake up. I'll be back in my room. Back to my real life.
I'll go to class. Check on Val. Pretend everything's okay.
Yeah. That's it. Just wake up.
Wake up, Steven.
Wake up.
WAKE—
Ding Dong. Ding Dong.
Light floods my vision.
I bolt upright, gasping, drenched in sweat. My sheets are wrapped around me like a straitjacket.
Ceiling.
My ceiling.
Same crack in the paint. Same busted fan. Same room I've slept in since I was five.
I breathe.
In. Out. In.
Just a dream.
Oh thank God.
Just a dream…
…right?
Ding Dong…
Someone's outside.
Is it the mailman? Delivery drone?
I push myself up slowly. My limbs ache like I ran miles. My mouth tastes like copper. I glance at my hand—normal. Flesh. Not metal.
Still shaking, I drag myself to the door.
The hallway smells like rust and old food. My apartment is small—just one room, barely insulated. The heater rattles like it's dying. I keep a single blanket folded over the back of my chair because the bed's too thin to sleep warm. A microwave that sparks when I open it sits beside a stack of empty noodle cups.
I live here because I can't afford anywhere else.
I open the door.
Outside, three people stand.
One girl. Two men behind her, broad and silent as statues.
She looks young—maybe early twenties. Her white hair is tied loosely at the back, strands falling over her shoulders. Her face is calm, almost serene, but it is her eyes are the most unique about her. The grey pupils staring at me.
The two men behind her wear dark blue suits, tailored but practical. They carry themselves like they've killed before and won't hesitate to do it again.
Around their necks hang polished badges.
Agent | Oceanus Association
I've heard of them. Everyone has. One of the top five strongest Agent organizations across the three Cities. Their name comes up in ads, in news reports, sometimes in whispered rumors about disappearances.
And yet, I thought they never had a branch in the Roses Board.
"Uh…"
The girl steps forward and gives me a slight bow. "As you can see, we're from the Oceanus Association, Mister Steven."
I blink. My brain still foggy from the dream. Or was it a dream?
"What do you want from me?"
They exchange glances.
"We're here," she says gently, "because we owe you."
Then the two men step forward and place two large black bags on the floor of my room.
"What are these?"
No answer.
Instead, the girl continues, "Mister Steven. This time, we're only delivering. But soon, another group from our association will come to meet you."
"Did I get involved in something big?"
She smiles faintly. "It appears so."
Then, without another word, they turn and leave.
I close the door slowly.
My heart hasn't stopped pounding.
I stare at the two bags on the floor.
Should I?
I mean… they said it was for me.
So I crouch down.
Unzip the first one.
Inside—stacks of credits. Thick, fresh-printed bundles. Real.
Legally printed.
Too much to be a joke.
At the side, I see a folded piece of paper. A photo.
Curious, I pull it out.
And then—
Something cold wraps around my throat.
I fall back against the wall.
The picture shows a woman.
Long coat. Pale blue hair.
Dead.
Her eyes wide. Her chest stained red.
I know who this is.
Because I killed her.
In my dream.
But this isn't a dream.
Not anymore.