Normally, it would be quest wrap-ups and breezy banter—a hero’s victory lap after clearing a dungeon. But today, something was off from the very first breath.
"...I do know what's going on." Claval smiled thinly in-frame, staring straight through the lens. Her armor gleamed, her presence outshining the magical lights drifting around her in the background. Her voice carried a taut, strange brightness—like a wire pulled until it hums. "There are people peeping on my every move. I can feel so many eyes!" The comments stirred, confused by her tone.
"But that's not what matters right now." She started to report her latest hunt—then snapped the thread mid-sentence.
"Yu!" Her gaze sharpened, hunting for someone specific beyond the camera. "Choose me over Rize!" The blunt declaration flipped the guild room's air in an instant. Other adventurers in the background glanced over, stunned; viewers reeled. "You're all watching, right?! Tell Yu for me!" Arms wide, she spoke like a diva on center stage—confession, provocation, open declaration of war.
The moment her straight pitch hit, the comments went whitewater.
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<<#YuMustChoose>>
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Cheering, jeering, suspicion. Trends flipped in minutes; feeds filled with caps lock and clips. Otherworld beauty confesses to a normie?! Rize vs Claval—final boss heroine showdown! Festival time. A few tried to galaxy-brain the situation.
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Drowned instantly by worse guesses.
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Looked at coldly, it was just an adventurer's stream. But the moment she hit the single point "Yu," the audience built their own play and brought the house down.
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Modern-day Yu was shaking. This wasn't background noise; once you're named, the fire spreads into your life. The chat sped up again, text falling like a waterfall. Everyone was drunk on the festival and hunting for targets.
He hunched over his desk, phone clutched hard. Claval's stream was still open. Comments were still roaring. The heat was still climbing.
"...Why my name..." The words came out soundless. "What am I supposed to do..." He pressed his hands to his head, fingers digging into his scalp. Open a frame to Claval? Could he even do that? Even if he could—what would he say? "Talking won't stop a fire." Saying it out loud slammed the weight down.
Bzzzt. Bzzzt. Bzzzt. Notifications kept sparking. Even with the screen off, the haptics wouldn't quit. Every buzz felt like a shove between his shoulder blades. He pressed his forehead to the desk.
"I'm the tinder." He had to admit it. Claval didn't strike the match. He did, the moment he "connected" with Rize. His fingers trembled. He wanted to close Claval's face—but his eyes wouldn't let go. It felt like her voice was aimed only at him.
"...It's because I got involved... everything..." The rest died on his tongue. The chat roared louder and shredded his thoughts. He shut his eyes. Even then, the afterimage burned.
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"I'm saying this because I saw it." On-screen, Claval lowered her gaze for a beat—then lifted it and speared the lens. "I felt your shaking. More than anyone." Quiet words, arrow-sharp. Not to the thousands watching—to one person. Through a screen, it still felt like a wet whisper in his ear.
Yu swallowed. The chat kept howling.
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The blaze kept spreading.
"If it's me... I can stop that shaking." Claval's voice sliced clean through the noise. "She can't. I should be the one at Yu's side!" Her mouth set hard.
The chat exploded again.
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The stream leapt past "drama" into straight delirium. Yu, though, heard only her voice. That heat. That certainty. He couldn't look away. His breaths went thin. His hands shook; the phone nearly slipped. Still, his fingers wouldn't leave the glass.
"...Stop it," he whispered. It wouldn't reach her. Shouldn't reach her—yet her eyes seemed to lock tighter onto his. Rize's face flashed through his mind—the other girl on the far side. But Claval's heat felt like it was pushing through the screen into him. He forgot to breathe. All he could do was keep watching. His heartbeat raced. Even with the app closed, her voice would stick like an echo. When the screen turns into a mirror, there's nowhere to run.
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At EWS HQ, executive suite. A tight, high-security room. On the main display, Claval's stream played silently.
"Dr. Mamiya—what is this phenomenon?" An executive spoke.
"It isn't full two-way comms. But... that girl, Claval, is sensing this world." Kaori Mamiya shut her file and narrowed her eyes behind her glasses.
"Only sensing? Any chance of crossing over?" An executive asked.
"Can't rule it out. We don't know her special skills or spell." Mamiya answered.
"You believe the 401 contact target we've been worried about is her?" An executive asked again.
"No. Likely the girl called 'Rize'." Mamiya answered again.
"Can we quietly stage observation points?" An executive oldered.
"We tried. We can't deploy magic in her immediate vicinity—not even in micro-range." She shook her head. Silence dropped.
Then the feed cut briefly to a different angle—Hanara on a high terrace, one hand raised, deploying a sigil. A faint barrier glyph glowed in the night air, and she wore a wicked little grin directed at the invisible camera.
"...We've been noticed," Mamiya said. "My apologies. This is already a national security matter."
"It's fine." One executive sighed, rubbing his temple.
"We'll brief the Cabinet ourselves. The other world is... terribly attractive, you see. To people like us." Another answered calmly, steepling his fingers.
The words cut the air and hung heavy as the room fell quiet.