The second Zero came into reality , the fading echo of Sara's voice still lingering in his head like a dream slipping away.
"S-Sara…!"
He stumbled to his feet, heart pounding, panic rising like a wave. The café was half-empty now, the lights dimmed to signal closing hours. His eyes darted across the room, desperate to find even a trace of her. But she was long gone.
"Shit," he muttered, gripping the edge of the table.
Outside, the night had sunk deep into the city's veins. Rainclouds hovered silently above, and a cold wind whispered through the narrow streets of Tokyo.
Lyall walked alone, her hoodie pulled low, hiding her face in its shadows. The city didn't see her. She didn't want it to. Her chest ached—too many thoughts, too many memories. She walked fast, head down, hoping the evening wind would numb what the painkillers couldn't.That's when she heard it.
Faint cries. A trembling voice echoing from the narrow alley ahead.
"Please… please let me go. I didn't do anything…"
Lyall stopped dead in her tracks.
The voice.
It wasn't just pleading—it was breaking.
Her eyes narrowed. Without thinking, she stepped into the shadows.
There, pressed against the cracked brick wall of a deserted alley, a girl trembled, three silhouettes crowding around her like vultures. One of them had her wrists pinned. Another was laughing.
"Tch… got lucky tonight, didn't we?"
"Shut up and hurry. This place's dead after eight. No one's gonna hear her scream."
The girl's phone buzzed from her coat pocket, lighting up. A call.
No one answered.
Because she couldn't move.
She was frozen.
Stunned.
Terrified.
And then—
"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!"
A voice boomed like thunder. Fierce. Furious.
The boys turned.
A figure stood at the edge of the alley, face hidden beneath a black hood and silver mask. Tall. Still. Unshakable."hey, girlie. Not your business darling. Keep walkin' or—"
"Or what?" the figure hissed, stepping forward.
The leader smirked. "Hasashi—take care of this one. Or better—bring her in too."
He didn't get another word out.
Lyall was already moving.
She grabbed his wrist and twisted. A sickening crack echoed as he screamed. She slammed him into the wall and punched his face—once, twice, again—until blood poured from his nose and mouth.
The other two lunged.
Lyall ducked, rolled, and grabbed a steel baseball bat one of them had dropped. Her grip tightened.
She didn't hold back.
She swung.
The first went down with a cry as the bat struck his ribs. The second tried to run, but Lyall caught him by the collar and yanked him back. He hit the ground hard.
They whimpered now—broken, bleeding, afraid.
The bat clanged as it hit the ground.
Layall removed her mask.
Sweat clung to her jawline. Her breaths came ragged. But her eyes—those eyes blazed with something ancient.
"You dared touch a defenseless girl," she whispered through clenched teeth. "You thought no one would come for her."
Her voice dropped lower. "But I did."
She grabbed the first guy's hand, the one who had touched the girl.
"These fingers... these filth-covered fingers…" she hissed. Then, from her pocket, she pulled a lighter.
The man's eyes widened.
"No—no, wait, please—!"
She lit the flame.
Screams filled the alley as she burned his fingers one by one.
The second tried to crawl away.
Lyall caught him easily.
"You used this mouth... to speak filth," she whispered.
And with a swift motion, she pulled a blade from her other pocket and sliced his tongue.
Blood painted the walls.
His cry was guttural, animalistic.
Then she turned to the last—Hasashi. He was trembling so violently his knees buckled.
"P-please... please don't—"
Lyall's voice was calm now, almost gentle.
"You watched. You enjoyed. Your eyes were filthier than all of them."
He crawled backward. "P-please… I won't say a word… please don't—"
And before he could beg again, she drove her knife into his eye. Blood and panic erupted. She yanked it back—eye still stuck to the blade
More blood.
More silence.
And then—
Peace.
Layall stood. Her hands dripping red. Her lips parted, licking the blood from her thumb.
"Hmm… not as bitter as I expected."
The girl behind her flinched.
Lyall turned.
"You're safe now," she said softly.
But the girl couldn't speak.
She couldn't even blink.
Lyall's voice lowered. "You're scared of me now?"
The girl trembled.
Lyall stepped closer and gently pinned her against the wall, wiping her own bloodstained hand against her hoodie.
"If I were a monster... I would've left you there," she said, her voice low and heavy. "But I didn't. I saved you."
The girl's heart skipped a beat.
"I... I know..." the girl whispered.You're safe now. Let me take you home."
"I—I… I can go… alone," she stammered.
Layall smiled faintly, backing off. "As you wish."
The girl walked past her slowly. Then paused.
"That… that perfume. It reminds me of something… beautiful."
Layall looked up, stunned for a moment.
But the girl had already disappeared.
Left behind was a blood-soaked alley and the faint buzz of a lost phone buried.
She didn't even realize—she'd just been saved by Lyall.
And Layall didn't realize—she had just saved Simi.
______________________________________________________________________________________________
The apartment door clicked shut behind her.
Sim stood silently in the hallway, shoes still on, coat clinging to her like a second skin. Her fingers trembled as she reached for the light, but she couldn't bring herself to turn it on.
She didn't even know how she made it home.
That alley.That girl.That… monster. That savior, but something made her smile.
She wasn't sure what she'd seen. All she knew was: someone had saved her. And that someone had eyes that haunted her now, more than the attackers ever could.
She barely noticed the soft footsteps behind her—until warm arms wrapped tightly around her from behind.
"You're late," Maera murmured, voice half-playful, half-scolding. "You said twenty minutes. It's been almost an hour."
Sim didn't answer.
Maera loosened her grip and turned her around,—what the hell happened to your arms? Whose blood is that?! Sim—look at me!"
Sim finally looked up, her voice soft.
"I'm okay now... someone saved me."
Maera stared at her, frozen. "Someone? Who?"
"I don't know... she was wearing a hoodie and a mask... but she fought for me like... like a demon. She was terrifying, but... she saved me."Her face was pale,
"I was almost… something bad almost happened," she whispered.
The words punched Maera's gut. She grabbed Sim's cheeks, forcing eye contact. "What? Who? Tell me—"
"Some guys. Alley. They had me cornered. And then…"
She blinked fast, like she was still seeing it. "Someone came. A girl. In a mask. She… she destroyed them. I mean—really destroyed them."
Maera's jaw clenched. "You're telling me someone saved you?"
Sim nodded slowly.
"And then disappeared. Just like that."
Sim nodded again, smiled. why are you smiling? maera asked___
"she fought for me like a demon" said sim.
Maera's fists clenched.
Sim smiled again, dazed. "I wish I knew who she was. I didn't even get to thank her."
"She could be anyone," Maera muttered, unable to hide the twinge of jealousy in her voice. "What if she's just another crazy?"
"She wasn't," Sim said firmly. "She was... beautiful. Not in her face—I couldn't see it. But in her soul."
Maera's jaw tightened. "I'm the one who's always there for you, Sim. But tonight you're glowing over some stranger you barely even saw?"
Sim giggled. "Aww... are you jealous?"
"Hell yes!!"
Then Maera let out a low whistle, trying to mask the tension in her voice. "Okay. That's... intense." she was serious this time.
Sim exhaled, finally sitting down. "You're not scared?"
"I'm furious someone tried to hurt you. But if she saved you, I owe her. Whoever she was."
"She said I was safe now. But… something about her..... "
Maera leaned down and gently cupped Sim's face again. "You're here. You're safe. That's all I care about."
Then her eyes narrowed.
"Where's your phone?"
Sim froze.
Maera's voice got sharper. "Wait… Sim. Your phone. Did they take it?!"
"I—I don't know. It was in my coat. Maybe it fell during the struggle—"
Maera groaned. "Sim! Your lock screen has our photo on it! What if some psycho finds it and thinks you're—ugh, I don't even know—some taken hostage?"
Sim blinked. "That's your worry right now?"
Maera crossed her arms. "I'm just saying, that was a cute photo. And now it's probably in some sewer under Shibuya!"
Sim laughed weakly. "I think the bloodied alley was under Shinjuku…"
Maera paused. "You better not be joking about trauma right now."
"Sorry," Sim whispered.
Maera sighed and sat beside her. "Look… I'm not good at comfort talk. But I'd kill anyone who tried to touch you. You know that, right?"
Sim leaned into her shoulder. "I know."
They sat like that for a while. The room quiet. Streetlights leaking through the window. Two hearts beating slowly back into sync.
But neither of them knew—
Far away, in a dim-lit apartment, someone was staring at Sim's phone.
And her lock screen.
______________________________________________________________________________________________
The photo shimmered softly in the dim light.
Two girls. One of them laughing. The other—the tomboy—was mid-wink, clearly teasing.
Sara held the phone in her bruised fingers, face pale and motionless.
It was Sim.
And Maera.
Together.
Laughing.
She stared at it like it was forbidden scripture. Her throat tightened. Every breath burned.
"Cute couple," she muttered to herself. "Of course it's her. It had to be her."
She looked down at her own reflection in the cracked mirror across the room. Her face was still smeared with dried blood. Her eyes still glowing faintly with rage and exhaustion.
"Even as Layall, I end up saving her. And she doesn't even know."
She sat back, cradling the phone like it was something fragile and poisonous.
Then her lips curved into a half-smile.
"I bet Maera doesn't even know she was almost replaced… by a monster."
______________________________________________________________________________________________
Zero was sprawled on the couch, fully immersed in his game, shouting at the screen."Oi! No... no... yesss! That's a pro gamer for you!"
"Why the hell are you shouting so much?" Sam snapped, clearly irritated.
Zero glanced at him—and forgot to look away.
Sam had just stepped out of the shower, his hair still wet, a towel in hand, drying it lazily. He was shirtless, standing casually—but to Zero, it was anything but casual.
Zero kept staring.
"Hey!" Sam suddenly said, raising an eyebrow. "Is my body so hot that you can't take your eyes off me?"
Zero snapped out of it, startled."A-Ah... Sam, you— What the hell is wrong with you!" he stammered.
But even as he tried to laugh it off, a question lingered in his head:What's wrong with me? Why couldn't I look away?
Sam flopped onto the couch next to him, stretching.Then casually asked, "By the way, why did you call me here today anyway?"
Zero didn't respond.
He was still stuck in his own head, dazed, staring ahead but not really seeing anything.
Sam frowned. "Zero?"
Zero blinked, snapping back to reality. "Huh? What?"
Sam gave him a strange look, then muttered, "Never mind."
And with that, he turned slightly—now he was the one staring at Zero.
Moments passed before Sam finally gave in and whined,"Hey... Zero..."
"What!" Zero grunted, still fixated on the screen.
"I'm starving," Sam said, pouting dramatically.
"So?!" Zero fired back with his usual sass.
"brooo.., I'm seriously hungry! Come on, make something for me," Sam begged in a pitiful tone. "Otherwise I'm not coming over again. You call me here and then disappear into your games while I'm left showering every five minutes."
Zero laughed."You really are a strange creature. You drink coffee like it's wine, get hungry and go take a bath. What are you, even?"
Sam folded his arms. "I'm leaving if you don't go to the kitchen right now."
"Okay, okay! I'm going!" Zero groaned, finally getting up. "But I'm making sushi," he added stubbornly.
Sam gave him a glare that could kill.Zero burst out laughing.
"Relax, I'm kidding. I won't make sushi. I know you're allergic to seafood," he said as he dashed toward the kitchen—mostly because he was certain Sam was about to throw something at him.
Once he was gone, Sam climbed up onto the couch and grabbed the controller.He resumed Zero's paused game, determined to win.
—Twenty minutes and six consecutive losses later—
Sam groaned in frustration.He was exhausted and now seriously thirsty.
He looked at the water jug nearby—it was empty.
"Ugh, Zero! Doesn't even bother refilling the jug," Sam muttered under his breath.
Grumbling, he made his way to the kitchen.
When he entered, he saw Zero awkwardly climbing up onto the counter like a monkey.
"Zero! What the hell are you doing? Get down from there! You idiot, you could've just told me. I would've gotten it for you!"
Sam was genuinely concerned now.
"Relax, Sam, I just needed to—"
Before he could finish, the stool wobbled dangerously.Zero lost his balance.
"Shit—!"
Sam rushed forward, trying to catch him.
They both crashed to the floor.
Zero opened his eyes slowly—only to realize he was lying on top of Sam.
Very close.
Sam had wrapped an arm around his waist to catch him.
Their noses were almost touching.
Zero's heartbeat was so loud, Sam could hear it—and his own wasn't any calmer.
Their eyes met.
And time stopped.
For a moment, they just stared at each other, lost, breath caught between their lips.
Zero had never been this close to Sam before.He had never really looked at him like this.
Sam... is actually... beautiful, he thought, dazed.
Then reality crashed in.
Zero blinked, realizing their position, and quickly scrambled off Sam in shock.
His heart was still racing.
What are these feelings? he thought, confused and shaken.
Sam opened his mouth to say something—maybe apologize—but Zero raised a hand and said, sam you should go home, its already too late, and, then, he rushed out of the kitchen without a word.
Sam stared after him...
...and noticed Zero's hands——they were trembling.....
TO BE CONTINUED....