"My name is Kenji. I'm twenty-three years old. I live on the second floor of a coffee shop on Sixth Street, and I'm currently unmarried."
"I'm a fresh graduate from the police academy, still waiting for a permanent placement. On a typical day, I'm home by 8 PM at the latest."
"I don't smoke, and I'm a social drinker at best. I'm in bed by 11 PM to ensure I get a full eight hours. Before turning in, I have a warm glass of milk and do twenty minutes of stretching. I usually sleep like the dead until morning."
"I wake up feeling like a newborn—no fatigue, no stress. My last physical? Clean bill of health. I'm as fit as a fiddle."
Inside an interview room at the New Eridu Public Security Bureau (PSB), a young man with messy, black spiky hair was delivering this rehearsed monologue to his interviewers. This was Kenji—an outsider who, thanks to a cosmic stroke of bad luck, had been dropped into this bizarre world where the line between humanity and the monstrous was blurring by the day. For reasons he kept close to his chest, he had chosen to interview for the PSB. He wanted to be a "glorious" Security Officer.
At least, that was the script. In reality, Kenji felt every bit the sleep-deprived cynic he was. He had wanted to project an image of a serious, dependable recruit to secure this "iron rice bowl" of a government job. However, the scheduled interviewer was a no-show. Instead, he was facing two "Masters."
Kenji had arrived first. While he sat in the cold metal chair, the door creaked open to reveal two graceful figures. One was a petite, slender individual he subconsciously glossed over; his gaze immediately locked onto the taller figure following behind. That single glance nearly short-circuited Kenji's brain—a brain that had been tragically single since birth.
The PSB uniforms varied in design. Some were specialized for combatting Ethereals within the Hollows, featuring high-performance materials like ultra-tight tactical leggings. Due to the tech specs required for Ether resistance, the fabric was practically vacuum-sealed. On an average person, they looked functional, if a bit snug.
But on the woman standing before him? The effect was devastating. Her legs were long and toned, leading up to a silhouette that defied the constraints of the fabric. Her waist was impossibly slender, creating a hip-to-waist ratio that felt like a visual assault. Kenji felt a phantom nosebleed coming on. Between the uniform's utilitarian grit and her sheer physical presence, he wondered how she even moved with such poise. Then again, this was New Eridu; he'd seen Thierren with shark tails grabbing lattes on Sixth Street. Logic was a luxury he couldn't afford.
"The original interviewer's wife went into labor unexpectedly, so Senior Qingyi and I will be conducting your session today," the tall woman said.
She had dark hair like Kenji's, though hers was streaked with natural orange highlights that caught the sterile office light. It was tied back in a voluminous ponytail that bounced like a fox's tail with every movement.
Kenji recognized her instantly. This was Zhu Yuan, the PSB's "Best Young Officer" of the year. A prodigy who had topped every academy metric, she was already a poster girl for crime prevention, her face plastered on magazines and Inter-Knot forums alike. Seeing her in person was different. The photos didn't do her justice—or her legendary discipline.
Faced with such a powerhouse, Kenji's prepared lines evaporated. His tired brain defaulted to the only "famous scenes" he could remember, resulting in the bizarre, overly specific introduction he'd just blurted out.
The two officers exchanged a look of sheer bewilderment.
"Senior Qingyi... is this normal?" Zhu Yuan asked.
While she was a demon on the battlefield, in social settings, Zhu Yuan often displayed a charmingly rigid earnestness, frequently deferring to her elders.
Qingyi, the shorter of the two, looked like a young girl who hadn't quite finished growing—until you noticed the subtle mold lines on her porcelain-pale thighs. She wasn't human, but a highly sophisticated android. She sipped a cup of tea, looking entirely too relaxed for an interview.
"It's unique," Qingyi said calmly. "He knows his routine, and he's disciplined. I like a young man who values his sleep. It's better than the usual stilted nonsense we hear."
Zhu Yuan nodded, her ponytail giving a sharp, rhythmic twitch. Her bright orange eyes fixed on Kenji, regaining her professional edge.
"You're applying for the Criminal Investigation Special Task Force—the combat division," Zhu Yuan warned, her voice dropping an octave. "In the Hollows, we face Ethereals. Do you understand what a single mistake costs in there?"
"Death," Kenji replied, his tone suddenly flat and weary.
In his old life, the most dangerous thing he faced was a server shutdown or a missed gacha banner. Here, the Hollows were localized apocalypses filled with Ether-mutated horrors. The Special Task Force didn't just investigate; they went into the belly of the beast.
"And you're still willing?" Zhu Yuan pressed. "This department has the highest mortality rate in the city. If you want a desk job in administration, there's no shame in it. We need people who won't freeze when the Ether pressure spikes."
Kenji stood up, slowly, and gave her a deliberate thumbs-up. The gesture was so old-school it felt out of place, but his expression was resolute.
"Officer Zhu Yuan, don't underestimate a man's resolve," Kenji said, layering on the heroic bravado of a man who had watched far too many Tokusatsu shows. "I joined the academy to protect the innocent. Without the PSB standing in the gap, there is no peace for the citizens of New Eridu. Someone has to make the sacrifice. You do it. Senior Qingyi does it. Why should I be any different?"
He was laying it on thick—partly because he needed the job, but mostly because he felt a spark of genuine fire. In this world, the logic was simple: fight the monsters, save the people. That was justice.
"My heart and my actions are as clear as a mirror; all I do is for justice," Kenji declared, quoting a famous line that technically wouldn't be written for another few decades in his world.
Qingyi offered a small, knowing smile. "My, it's been a while since we've seen such an energetic recruit. The last few kids we interviewed nearly wet themselves when we mentioned Hollow expeditions. I hope you're not just all talk."
"I assure you, I am not," Kenji said, sitting back down with a heavy sigh that betrayed his "exhausted salaryman" soul.
Zhu Yuan looked back at his file, her brow furrowed. "It says here your specialty isn't offense, intelligence, or even agility. You've listed... endurance?"
"That's right," Kenji said, patting his chest. "Back at the academy, they called me the 'Legendary Tank King.' I'm a whale when it comes to durability—maxed out my survival stats. I can take the most brutal beatings and keep standing. I'm the guy you want holding the line."
Zhu Yuan blinked, momentarily dazed by the term "Tank King," but she nodded. The Task Force always needed "heavy" types to soak up damage while the damage dealers worked.
"Pfft—hahaha!" Qingyi burst out laughing, slamming a stamp onto his file. "Zhu Yuan, this kid is hilarious! I want him. I want to see exactly how much of a 'tank' he really is."
"Very well," Zhu Yuan conceded. "You've passed the initial interview. Familiarize yourself with the bureau's layout today. Report for duty tomorrow morning. Sharp."
"Yes, Officer!" Kenji stood and saluted.
As they left, Qingyi nudged Zhu Yuan's hip with her elbow—the only part of the taller woman she could easily reach. "Did you catch that, little Zhu Yuan?"
"Catch what?"
"The way he looked at you. That wasn't just 'recruit to superior' respect. That was a man looking at a woman."
Zhu Yuan tilted her head, genuinely confused. "I am a woman, and he is a man. Is there a problem with the filing?"
Qingyi sighed, throwing her hands up. "Best Young Officer, indeed. You're a prodigy at catching criminals, but a total amateur at everything else."
Inside the room, Kenji walked to the window, watching the bustle of the city below. The cynical weight on his shoulders felt a little lighter. He clenched his fist.
"Finally, a paycheck," he muttered, his voice shifting from weary to oddly satisfied. "A true man lives between heaven and earth, knowing his path. I won't betray the power I've been given."
As he spoke, a blur of motion flickered past the window—a streak of metallic crimson, like a mechanical beetle caught in a sunbeam, chirping a digital response only he could understand.