The phones didn’t stop ringing.

  They rang in staggered intervals — customer service, insurance, structural assessment, incident reporting, public relations — a rhythm that felt almost coordinated in its cruelty.

  Hifumi kept typing.

  Her fingers moved automatically across the keyboard. Incident code. Location. Estimated damage. Civilian injuries: none. Structural loss: one commercial kitchen interior. Cause: unresolved dungeon manifestation anomaly.

  She paused at that last phrase.

  Unresolved.

  That was a comfortable word. A word that meant nobody expected her to understand it.

  Beside her, Kaede was whisper-muttering to herself.

  “This doesn’t make sense. Kitchens don’t just disappear. They’re bolted down. There are pipes. There’s wiring. There’s insurance paperwork. Do you know how much insurance paperwork this is going to be—”

  Hifumi nodded faintly.

  “Yes.”

  Her voice came out small.

  Not scared-small.

  Just tired-small.

  The McKing incident had ended without casualties. That was what mattered. The guild had handled it. Hunters had responded. The kitchen had phased into some kind of low-tier spatial fracture before collapsing into nothing.

  No one died.

  So it was labeled a success.

  That didn’t make the ringing stop.

  Hifumi blinked slowly at her screen. The cursor pulsed in the corner of her vision.

  Blink.

  Blink.

  She closed her eyes for a moment.

  Just a moment.

  The office sounds dulled.

  And then—

  Silence.

  A classroom.

  Desks overturned.

  The air too still.

  She was under her teacher’s desk.

  Not breathing.

  Not crying.

  Just… hiding.

  She peeked.

  It was sitting on the front desk.

  Perfect posture.

  Stolen story; please report.

  Legs crossed.

  Watching her.

  The black butterfly clip gleamed in its hair.

  It lifted one finger.

  Slowly.

  Gently.

  Toward her forehead.

  Cold.

  Darkness.

  “Hifumi?”

  Her eyes snapped open.

  The office rushed back in — phones, keyboards, fluorescent lights.

  Kaede was staring at her.

  “You spaced out.”

  “I’m fine.”

  She straightened in her chair.

  Rigid.

  Professional.

  Kaede narrowed her eyes suspiciously but didn’t press.

  That was something Hifumi appreciated about her.

  Kaede panicked loudly.

  Hifumi shut down quietly.

  Between them, they functioned.

  The intercom buzzed overhead.

  “Isaki. Li. My office.”

  Liora’s voice.

  Casual.

  Almost bored.

  Hifumi’s stomach dipped.

  Kaede whispered, “We’re not getting fired, right?”

  Hifumi swallowed.

  “…I don’t think so.”

  They stood together.

  As always.

  Liora’s office smelled like smoke before they even opened the door.

  She was leaning back in her chair, cigarette balanced between her fingers, red glasses reflecting the city skyline behind her.

  “You two,” she said, exhaling slowly. “Kitchen disappearing mid-order. That’s a new one.”

  Kaede immediately bowed.

  “We didn’t touch anything! I mean we touched the counter but only normally. We didn’t press any red buttons. There were no red buttons. I checked for red buttons.”

  Liora stared at her.

  Then flicked ash into a tray.

  “I’m not blaming you.”

  Kaede froze mid-apology.

  “Oh.”

  Liora looked at Hifumi next.

  “Any injuries?”

  Hifumi shook her head.

  “No.”

  A beat.

  “Good.”

  That was it.

  Not angry.

  Not disappointed.

  Just checking.

  Liora tapped a file on her desk.

  “Team Three was clearing a minor fracture in the district. One of them overextended. Spatial ripple chain reaction. Your McKing was collateral.”

  Kaede blinked.

  “…Collateral?”

  “Means it wasn’t personal,” Liora replied flatly.

  She stood, stretching lazily.

  “And I’ll be having words with them. Again.”

  There was something in her tone.

  Not rage.

  Not yet.

  Just… accumulation.

  Seed planted.

  “Go home after finishing reports,” Liora added. “You both look like you’ve been microwaved.”

  Kaede looked faintly offended.

  Hifumi almost smiled.

  Almost.

  They didn’t go home.

  Because the alarms started instead.

  Deep.

  Low.

  Not office alarms.

  City alarms.

  Dungeon breach.

  High-level.

  Hifumi’s hands stopped mid-keystroke.

  Kaede slowly turned toward the windows.

  “…That’s not a drill.”

  “No,” Hifumi agreed softly.

  It wasn’t.

  Hunters were already moving.

  Boots against marble floors.

  Voices sharp.

  Efficient.

  A faint green glow flared in the distance — someone leveling mid-response.

  Bright.

  Steady.

  Hifumi stared at it.

  It used to be lighter.

  She didn’t know how she knew that.

  But she did.

  “Evacuation team,” someone shouted. “Move!”

  Kaede grabbed her sleeve instinctively.

  “We’re going, right?”

  Hifumi’s body locked for half a second.

  Rigid upright.

  Like a statue.

  The memory pressed at the back of her skull.

  Butterfly.

  Finger.

  Cold.

  She inhaled.

  “If I can still feel fear…”

  Kaede looked at her.

  “…then that means I’m alive.”

  Her voice wasn’t strong.

  It wasn’t dramatic.

  It trembled slightly.

  “…and so are you.”

  Kaede swallowed hard.

  “…Yeah.”

  They moved.

  Not toward the dungeon.

  Not toward the fight.

  Toward civilians.

  Toward screaming.

  Toward children crying.

  Hifumi’s hands shook as she helped guide an elderly woman toward safety.

  She was scared.

  Not brave.

  Not calm.

  Just scared and functioning.

  Outside, the ground trembled.

  Wind pressure slammed against the building.

  Glass rattled.

  Liora stepped into the street below.

  White hair catching the light.

  Cigarette dropping.

  Boot crushing it out.

  A roar split the sky.

  Magic surged.

  Hunters engaged.

  Kaede peeked from behind the barricade.

  “…That’s a centaur.”

  There was a long pause.

  “…Is it wearing a tutu?”

  Hifumi blinked.

  It was.

  Pink.

  Fluffy.

  Absurd.

  Several hunters actually laughed mid-formation.

  The centaur spun.

  The tutu flared.

  Wind pressure doubled.

  Shockwave.

  A parked car flipped.

  The laughter stopped.

  Kaede’s face went blank.

  (0_0)

  Hifumi stared.

  “…That’s worse.”

  Liora leapt.

  Blinding arc of power.

  The sky cracked.

  The centaur roared.

  And through all of it—

  Hifumi felt it again.

  Fear.

  Deep.

  Cold.

  Real.

  Her hands trembled.

  Her heart pounded.

  Her legs

  felt weak.

  But she was standing.

  She was moving.

  She was helping.

  “If I can still feel fear…”

  She whispered it to herself this time.

  “…then I’m alive.”

  And as long as she was alive—

  She would keep going.