Thomas woke up slowly. The first thing he noticed wasn't a sound or light, but warmth. The warmth of another body pressed against his side, and the faint scent of vanilla and coffee from a pillow that wasn't his own.
He opened his eyes. Soft morning light filtered through a gap in the curtains, painting streaks of light across Christine's bedroom wall. She was still fast asleep, her breathing regular and deep, one arm possessively wrapped around Thomas's chest.
Memories of the previous night flooded back to him in intense flashes: the overflowing passion, the sound of their sighs, and the feeling of their skin touching. And then, the last three words Christine had uttered before they finally succumbed to exhaustion.
"I love you."
Those words now echoed in the morning silence, feeling heavier and more real than when they were first spoken. He looked at Christine's peaceful sleeping face, traces of exhaustion gone from her features, replaced by an expression of serene contentment. She was beautiful. Deep down, he felt a wave of genuine affection and admiration for her.
That feeling was immediately followed by a cold discomfort. He remembered the golden notification he had ignored, the reward from the "mission" that had succeeded. He had gotten what he wanted, but the consequence was an emotional bond built on an artificial foundation. This woman, so strong and intelligent, now lay beside him, her heart laid bare by a power she knew nothing about.
Thomas lay still, not daring to move for fear of waking her. He felt trapped, not by Christine's embrace, but by the complexity of his own actions.
Moments later, Christine stirred in her sleep, then her eyes slowly opened. She blinked a few times, her blurry focus finally settling on Thomas who was watching her. A soft, intimate smile bloomed on her face.
"Morning," she whispered, her voice husky from sleep. She leaned in slightly and gave him a light good morning kiss, her lips warm.
"Morning," Thomas replied, trying to sound as normal as possible.
They lay in comfortable silence for a few moments. For Christine, it was a silence filled with contentment and happiness. For Thomas, it was the silence before the storm.
Sure enough, Christine propped her head up with one hand, looking at him with a slightly shy but hopeful expression. "About what I said last night..." she began softly.
Thomas's heart felt like it dropped into his stomach. This was it. The moment of confrontation he knew he couldn't avoid.
He did the only thing he could think of. He raised his hand and gently caressed Christine's cheek, his thumb brushing the soft skin below her eyes. It was a genuine gesture, though its purpose was to buy time.
"Last night..." he said, his voice deeper than usual. "Was the most incredible night of my life, Christine."
He saw Christine's eyes sparkle at the compliment.
"Everything felt so fast and... intense," Thomas continued, borrowing Christine's own words. "I... I'm honestly still trying to process it."
It was the perfect answer. A deflection that didn't feel like a rejection. He didn't reciprocate Christine's declaration of love, but he also didn't deny it. He framed his silence as a result of overwhelming emotion, just as Christine had felt.
The woman, under the subtle influence that made her more receptive, smiled with understanding. She saw Thomas's hesitation not as rejection, but as proof of how deep their moment together had been. She leaned in again and kissed him once more, this time gently and with certainty. For now, that answer was more than enough for her.
He had navigated that emotional minefield. For now. The atmosphere between them returned to being light, though for Thomas, there was a new layer of tension beneath it. They made coffee together in her small kitchen, their movements in the cramped space creating a domestic intimacy that felt alien and dangerous to him.
He knew he couldn't stay longer. He needed distance, needed space to think clearly without Christine's intoxicating presence.
"I have to go," he said after finishing his coffee. "Got to get ready for my shift."
"Of course," Christine replied, though there was a hint of disappointment in her eyes. She walked him to the door.
Their parting felt heavier than Thomas expected. Christine wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a deep, heartfelt kiss. "Call me later?" she pleaded.
"Definitely," Thomas replied, his voice more sincere than he intended.
As he walked alone on the busy morning street, the cool air swept across his face, clearing some of the emotional fog in his head. He felt an overwhelming sense of relief at having escaped the apartment, escaped such a complicated situation. Feelings, doubts, and lies felt layered in his mind, creating a chaos he couldn't untangle.
He needed something certain. Something logical. Something he could control.
His mind immediately turned to the golden notification he had ignored last night. The reward for his mission.
I need to claim my reward, he thought as he continued walking, his hand slipping into his pocket. At least that's something I can understand.
Once the apartment door closed behind him, Thomas leaned back for a moment, letting the sterile silence of his room envelop him. The air here felt cold and empty, a sharp contrast to the warmth and coffee scent of Christine's apartment. His mind was still a mess, filled with echoes of her good morning kiss, their awkward conversation, and the weight of three words he couldn't reciprocate.
He walked past his desk and sat on the edge of the bed. Emotions were a battlefield he didn't understand. Complicated, unpredictable, and full of variables he couldn't control. He needed something different. Something certain.
He closed his eyes, pushing away the image of Christine's face, and focused his mind on the one thing remaining from the night before. A promise. A reward.
The golden notification reappeared in his mind, as clear as when it first materialized.
[Target fulfilled. New card ready to claim. Claim now?]
Below it, two choices glowed softly: [Yes / No].
Without hesitation, his intent locked onto the [Yes] option.
A strange warmth began to spread from the center of his chest. He opened his eyes and saw a soft golden light seeping out from his shirt. The light intensified, solidifying in the air in front of him, forming a rectangular object. In an instant, the light dimmed, leaving a metallic silver card that floated for a moment before gently falling into his palm.
The card was blank. Then, as if drawn by an invisible hand, glowing red circuit lines began to etch themselves onto its surface. The lines twisted and merged, forming the image of a black armored warrior with large, insect-like yellow eyes. At the top of the card, a sharp, elegant symbol formed: the red "Phi" (Φ) logo. Below it, the writing appeared clearly.
KAMEN RIDER FAIZ
Thomas stared at the new card in his palm. Unlike the almost mystical Mighty Morphin card, this Faiz card emanated a cold, precise technological aura. He could feel a faint energy pulsating from it. This was more than just power; it was a system.
He activated his Decadriver, then opened the Ride Booker attached to his side. Inside, only one card occupied its slot: the Mighty Morphin Ranger Card. Beside it, a row of empty slots stared back at him, a reminder of his long journey ahead.
With a movement that felt significant, he took the Kamen Ride: Faiz Card and inserted it firmly into the empty slot next to his Ranger card.
He closed the Ride Booker. For the first time since arriving in this world, he had a choice.
The thought gave him a strong surge of confidence. He was no longer tied to one random power. He now had a small arsenal. If a situation called for significant and somewhat unexpected physical power, he had the Ranger card. If he needed speed, precision, and technology, he now had Faiz. This was a tactical choice.
He smiled faintly. The emotional complexity he felt this morning with Christine seemed to recede slightly, replaced by a cold clarity of purpose. He had passed a difficult test and earned a worthy reward. But a tool is useless if its owner doesn't know how to use it.
He had to test his new toy.
That evening, Thomas stood in the middle of a vast, empty warehouse on the Hell's Kitchen docks. The air inside was cold and smelled of rust and sea water. This was the perfect place.
He attached his Decadriver to his waist, the belt appearing and locking with a satisfying click. He opened the Ride Booker, his gaze passing over the Ranger card, and firmly pulled out his new card: Kamen Ride Faiz.
"Henshin," he muttered into the warehouse's silence.
He inserted the card into the Decadriver's central slot and pushed the levers on both sides.
A powerful, clear electronic female voice echoed from his belt, breaking the silence.
KAMEN RIDE: FAIZ!
A transparent silhouette of the Kamen Rider Faiz armor appeared around Thomas's body, like a ghost of pure data. A second later, glowing red energy lines, the Photon Blood, streamed out from his belt, flowing through the silhouette like activated circuits. The lines solidified, transforming the transparent data into sleek black metal and sturdy silver plating. Finally, the large yellow eyes on his helmet lit up with a sharp glow.
The transformation was complete.
Thomas clenched his fists. He could feel energy flowing within the suit, feeling different, lighter, sharper, and full of latent power. He took a step to test his balance, and in the blink of an eye, he was twenty meters across the warehouse, leaving only a faint red trail in the air. His speed was incredible.
He turned, slightly surprised by his own capabilities. He looked at a thick concrete support pillar. With a shout, he launched a single straight punch.
CRACK!
The impact echoed like a small explosion. As he withdrew his fist, a deep crater was visible on the pillar's surface, concrete dust falling to the floor. He then switched to the Ride Booker on his waist, transforming it into Gun Mode. He aimed at a stack of rusty drums in the corner of the warehouse and fired. No longer the characteristic magenta energy of Decade, but precise bursts of red laser, just like his Photon Blood energy. Small explosions rocked the warehouse.
Thomas lowered his weapon. He stood in the middle of the warehouse, surrounded by proof of his new power. The emotional confusion from the morning felt like a distant memory. All that remained now was certainty.
This... he thought, looking at his armored hands. This is a game changer.