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The Watcher and The Fuse

  The drizzle had stopped, but the streets still shone with the remnants of rain. Neon lights reflected off the puddles, warping the city’s colours into something ghostly and surreal.

  She sat on the bench, soaked, arms folded tightly over her chest.

  “Tch…” She winced slightly, but forced herself to stay upright.

  I watched her quietly for a few seconds. She didn’t notice me—or pretended not to.

  “…You alive?”

  Her eyes flicked up. Blue. Sharp. Untamed.

  “Huh? What kind of dumb question is that?”

  “You’re talking. So, yes.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “No sh*t.”

  Bold. And pissed.

  “Just checking.”

  She didn’t reply. Her jaw was clenched, knuckles white. A few strands of soaked hair clung to her cheek, and despite the agony in her stance, she didn’t ask for help.. She looked like the type who’d rather bite her tongue off than admit weakness.

  About ten minutes passed in silence. Her breathing evened out, and the tension in her shoulders eased—just slightly.

  “I’m moving,” I said at last.

  “Huh?”

  “Come with me. Unless you wanna stick around for round two.”

  She glared. “Why would I trust some random guy who just happened to show up like that?”

  “You can stay here and bleed, then.”

  “…Tch. Fine.”

  She pushed herself to her feet with a low grunt, wincing. “But if you try anything shady, I’ll crush your face.”

  “Noted.”

  The streets buzzed quietly with life. It was late, but this part of the city never really slept. Drones floated overhead, their lights blinking like lazy stars. Holographic ads flickered on the sides of buildings—sword upgrades, mana booster subscriptions, and dating apps claiming 99.7% compatibility.

  She walked behind me with heavy, angry footsteps.

  We didn’t talk. But I could feel her staring.

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  Maybe at my back. Or something else.

  Eventually, we stopped in front of a sleek, dark building embedded into the city’s spine. A subtle emblem glowed over the entryway—just a single glyph in old rune-speak. You wouldn’t notice it unless you knew what to look for.

  That’s when I felt it .

  A subtle pull in the air—like something bending, twisting just a bit wrong.

  I glanced back.

  …Her mana. Unstable. Flickering.

  But she didn’t say anything.

  So I didn’t ask.

  The guards out front were rigid. Armed. Their eyes snapped toward her the moment we approached.

  “Halt. She doesn’t have authorization.”

  “She’s with me.”

  They blinked. Looked at me. Then their expressions shifted, just slightly.

  “…Understood. Proceed.”

  The girl gave me a sideways look.

  The interior was quiet. Clean. Advanced.

  Minimalist halls, polished steel floors, and mana-reactive lights that dimmed slightly as we passed. Only a handful of people ever saw this place. Even fewer understood what it actually did.

  I walked with purpose, keeping my pace casual. She followed, slower now, like she was taking everything in—but didn’t want me to see her doing it. At the far end of the corridor, a large door slid open automatically.

  Inside, a formal office space, warm lighting, quiet ambiance, and a few high-ranking officials seated near a long table.

  One of them stood as we entered. A man in his late forties, sharp-featured, neatly trimmed beard, and wearing a deep blue military-grade jacket marked with the rune of Leiones.

  “Ah. You’re here,” he said, voice calm.

  I nodded slightly. “Sorry for the short notice.”

  “Don’t worry,” he replied. “It’s an honor to finally meet you in person.”

  He extended a hand.

  I took it out of habit. His grip was firm.

  “I’ve heard of your exploits in Wolona. ‘Frozen Phantom’, right? Your reputation precedes you.”

  I didn’t react. Nicknames are just noise.

  Then I noticed it—he hadn’t looked at the girl once.

  She stayed near the wall. Eyes down. Tense.

  Strange.

  “Have a seat,” the man said.

  I gestured at the girl. “You too.”

  She hesitated. Then slowly dropped into a chair beside mine, her posture stiff.

  “I came regarding the End Gate piece,” I said. “I heard it was still in storage here.”

  “Unfortunately,” he said, “it was just purchased yesterday.”

  “By who?”

  “Hikaru Arimura of the big five.”

  Figures.

  “Should’ve known he’d make a move,” I muttered.

  “He moved quietly,” the man said. “But we expected that. His people are efficient.”

  I leaned back slightly.

  “…Shame.”

  Silence hung in the room for a moment.

  Then I nodded toward the girl.

  “On the way here, I found her being cornered by two mages. Thugs. Looked like they were going to force her somewhere.”

  The man’s expression didn’t change.

  “She fought back. Held her own, but they overwhelmed her. You might wanna look into it.”

  “Thank you for bringing this to our attention,” he said, still not glancing at her.

  …Weird.

  I stood. “That’s all. I’ll leave her here.”

  “Understood.”

  The girl looked like she wanted to say something—but didn’t.

  Smart.

  I gave her a small nod and turned to leave.

  A café sat across the street. Warm lights. No crowd. Just soft music and the low hum of a generator beneath the floor.

  I ordered something basic—synth-coffee, dark roast. 2714 tech meant the cup was ready in four seconds, perfectly heated.

  I sat by the window, letting the steam fog the glass as I sipped.

  Hikaru Arimura…

  I didn’t know him well. But I had met him a couple times before.

  Light Harudo. Rank 3. Dangerous.

  Why would he want the End Gate piece?

  I closed my eyes for a moment.

  The warmth of the cup seeped into my fingers. It felt like silence.

  Then—

  BOOM.

  The windows shook. People outside stopped. Looked up.

  I turned my head toward the sound. Toward the rising smoke.

  My pulse didn't change.

  But I stood.

  “…Of course.”

  And ran.

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