With the Spider Gurongi finally purged from the world, Rin Kuga felt the oppressive weight of the Rider's mantle begin to lift—if only for a moment. He walked home at a leisurely pace, the heavy thrum of the Ohma Zi-O power receding into the deep recesses of his consciousness. Above, the moon hung like a polished silver coin against the velvet ink of the night, casting a serene glow over the quiet streets.
As for the missing girls and the grotesque nest festering beneath the school? That was a task for the cleaning crews and the authorities. A King identifies the rot and cuts it out; he does not stay behind to sweep up the dust. Some burdens were simply beneath the dignity of a Kamen Rider.
He reached his apartment, the click of the lock signaling the return to his private sanctuary. Rin shed his school blazer with a weary sigh, tossing it toward the sofa without a second glance. He collapsed onto the bed, the mattress yielding beneath his weight as the tension finally bled out of his muscles.
"Home... nothing beats your own bed," he murmured into the pillow.
Just as sleep began to tug at the edges of his mind, the sharp, insistent trill of his phone shattered the silence.
Rin frowned, rolling onto his side to glare at the glowing screen. A flicker of genuine confusion pierced through his exhaustion. Since arriving in this world, he had been a ghost in the machine—a singularity with no tether to the digital grid. Even Mai Sakurajima only had his LINE account. Who could possibly have his direct number?
He reached out, his fingers brushing the cool glass of the device as he swiped to answer.
"Moshi moshi? Who is this?" he asked, his voice slipping into the casual, slightly bored cadence of a typical teenager, a far cry from the tectonic resonance of the Overlord.
The voice that filtered through the receiver was instantly recognizable, vibrating with a mixture of repressed anxiety and newfound relief.
Across the city, in a high-end apartment that mirrored the quiet elegance of its inhabitant, Utaha Kasumigaoka clutched her phone with white-knuckled intensity. She was still clad in her school uniform, her long, raven hair spilling over her shoulders as she paced the length of her room.
When the line finally connected and Rin's voice reached her, the breath she had been holding escaped in a ragged, visible shudder of relief.
"Thank god," she whispered, her eyes softening as the tension left her frame. "You're safe."
On the other end of the line, Rin stared up at the ceiling, an eyebrow arched in silent amusement. Why are women always so prone to unnecessary worrying? he wondered. She had witnessed the sheer magnitude of his power before; the idea that a mere "trash mob" like the Spider Gurongi could pose a threat to him was logically absurd.
And yet, there was a strange, unfamiliar warmth in the realization that someone as sharp-witted as Utaha was still losing sleep over his well-being. Even for a King who had seen it all, such persistent sincerity was a rare commodity.
"Yeah, I'm fine," Rin replied, his voice softening just a fraction, dropping the regal distance. "But more importantly... how did you get this number?"
It was a genuine question. Rin hadn't even bothered to memorize his own digits yet; the mundane logistics of his "human" identity were still a work in progress.
There was a sharp pause on the other end. When Utaha spoke again, the vulnerability had vanished, replaced by the icy, razor-edged tone that was her trademark.
"Ha? What kind of stupid question is that?" she snapped, her sharp tongue acting as an automatic defense mechanism for her fluttering heart. "One look at the student registry and there it was. Is your brain fried from the fight, or were you always this slow?"
Even when talking to the man who had pulled her from the jaws of death, Utaha's instinct for verbal combat remained unshakable.
Rin didn't take offense. Instead, he felt a spark of surprise at the thoroughness of the system—it had apparently woven his existence into the school's records so deeply that even his contact information was part of the fabric of this reality.
"Right. I suppose that makes sense," Rin said, his tone turning dismissive but not unkind. "My mistake. If that's all, I'm turning in."
Without waiting for a rebuttal, he tapped the end-call icon and let the phone drop back onto the pillow.
"Wait—! Ah! What have I done?!"
In her apartment, Utaha stared at the "Call Ended" screen in a state of absolute, frantic horror. She buried her face in her hands, her fingers digging into her hair until the pristine strands were a tangled mess.
The realization hit her like a physical blow. She had let her "poisonous tongue" get the better of her again. He had saved her life, and instead of a single word of gratitude, she had insulted his intelligence and driven him away.
I finally got through to him, and I blew it, she thought, her heart sinking into her stomach. He probably thinks I'm a total brat.
While Utaha spiraled into a pit of self-reproach, a different kind of storm was brewing in another part of the city.
Inside a sprawling, palatial villa that exuded wealth and ancient prestige, Kaguya Shinomiya sat at her desk, the soft glow of a computer monitor illuminating her sharp, calculating features. Between her slender fingers, she held a high-resolution photograph of Rin Kuga.
A thin, predatory smile played across her lips—the look of a grandmaster who had just spotted a flaw in her opponent's opening.
"Hmph. This man..." she murmured, her eyes narrowing as she studied Rin's face. "Perhaps I can use him to finally break Miyuki Shirogane's pride."
In the silent room, the heiress began to weave a new web, unaware that the "piece" she intended to move on her board was not a pawn, but the King of Time himself.