Damn it, this has to be a joke.
Staring at Shuangyue, who stood before him like a reaper draped in moonlight, Yoren felt his head throb, his thoughts racing in a desperate frenzy.
He had just returned! Just barely made it back!
And yet, before he could even process his situation, before he could even share a moment's breath with Turtle inside, the enemy mage had already arrived and was about to end his life?
This was insane. Unfair. Completely absurd.
What the hell was he supposed to do?
Turtle was behind him—there was no question about it, she had to be protected.
Even if escape was an option, even if he had to surrender himself, there was no way he'd drop the power bank uselessly to the ground. No, if he had to go down, he'd at least make sure to smash it against Shuangyue's composed, eerily beautiful face before he did.
Gritting his teeth, Yoren fixed his eyes on her and, in one swift motion, grabbed Turtle by the wrist, shoving her away with force.
"Don't worry about me—just run!"
There was no hesitation in his voice, only the raw urgency of someone willing to stand as a shield. He could only pray that she listened.
As Turtle stumbled backward, Yoren tightened his grip on the power bank, his mind already set. If he had to buy her even a few seconds, he'd give it everything he had.
Summoning every ounce of strength, he swung his arm.
"Fuck you—"
A blade of pure ice materialized out of thin air. The cold shimmer of its crystalline edge was the last thing he saw before it pressed against his throat.
Yoren froze. The raw, biting chill spread from his neck down his spine, locking him in place.
Behind him, Turtle stood wide-eyed, paralyzed in the doorway, uncertain whether to flee or fight.
Shuangyue's gaze was like a winter storm—piercing, unreadable, and void of warmth. A faint blue light flickered in her irises as she regarded him in silence, before finally parting her lips to speak.
"If I wished for your death, it would have happened the instant you moved. You understand this now, don't you?"
She spoke without arrogance, without cruelty—just an absolute certainty that sent a shudder through Yoren's bones.
He had faced danger before, had endured moments where he thought he might die—but nothing compared to this. This wasn't desperation, wasn't even fear. It was the sheer realization of how utterly powerless he was.
And yet…
Despite the icy steel at his throat, despite the knowledge that one flick of her wrist could end him, he felt something stir deep within.
Not terror.
Resolve.
She hadn't killed him immediately. That meant she wanted something. That meant there was still room to act.
Yoren swallowed hard, his Adam's apple barely grazing the ice sword. He met her gaze, unflinching.
"Then why haven't you killed me?"
Shuangyue tilted her head slightly, as if amused by his defiance.
"Because I have questions."
Yoren let out a slow breath. "If you want answers, then I have a question of my own. Vina and the others—are they alive?"
Shuangyue didn't blink. "You mean the gang members from earlier? They live."
A weight Yoren hadn't even realized was suffocating him suddenly lifted. Relief, pure and unfiltered, flooded his system. No matter what happened next, at least he hadn't caused irreversible damage. He hadn't led them to their deaths.
It was a small victory, but in this world, small victories were everything.
He straightened slightly, his mind sharpening.
Shuangyue wanted answers. Fine. He'd answer—but on his terms.
"Go ahead," he said. "Ask your questions."
She held his gaze for a long moment before speaking.
"Your name."
"Yoren."
Silence stretched between them as she studied him, eyes unfathomable.
"Tell me, Yoren… You do not belong to this world, do you?"
Yoren's heart stopped.
A chill colder than the blade at his throat coursed through him.
How? How could she possibly know?
His mind reeled. Had he slipped? Had he done something to give himself away? No—no, he had been careful. He had blended in, adapted, never spoken of the impossible truth to anyone.
And yet, here she was, stating it as fact.
A sharp pressure against his throat reminded him of the sword still in place. Shuangyue's voice was a whisper of frost.
"Answer me."
His pulse pounded. He knew he had no choice.
"…Why do you know?" he managed, his voice barely above a breath.
Shuangyue narrowed her eyes. "So it's true, then."
A sinking realization clawed at his stomach. He had just confirmed it. Damn it.
Shuangyue exhaled softly, almost as if she had expected this. "I saw you disappear," she said. "And then, just as suddenly, you reappeared."
Yoren felt the blood drain from his face.
Shuangyue continued, unbothered by his shock. "I have seen many things in my life, Yoren, but I have never seen someone vanish beyond the bounds of magic. Your disappearance and return were accompanied by a surge of energy—stronger than the sum of all the Originium consumption in Mandel City. Yet that energy did not radiate outward. It collapsed upon itself, as if it had been forced into a singularity."
Her voice dropped, quiet yet razor-sharp. "I know of no spell, no incantation, that can accomplish this."
Yoren's thoughts spiraled. She had sensed the energy. Had detected something even he barely understood.
Shuangyue took a slow step forward, lowering her blade at last. "Tell me, Yoren," she murmured. "Where do you come from?"
Yoren exhaled. He was out of lies, out of excuses.
"…Not from here," he admitted.
Something flickered in her expression—satisfaction, curiosity, maybe something else.
She studied him for another moment before nodding. "Then I ask again: What are you?"
Yoren clenched his fists. What was he?
He had no answer to that.
A foreigner? A trespasser? A mistake?
Or maybe…
Maybe he was just someone trying to find his place in a world that wasn't his own.
The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken words. Then, to his surprise, Shuangyue's lips curved ever so slightly.
"Interesting."
And just like that, she turned on her heel.
Yoren blinked. "…What?"
She glanced back at him, the ghost of a smirk playing at the edges of her lips. "You intrigue me, outsider. And for now, that is enough."
With that, she vanished into the night, leaving Yoren standing there, the weight of her words pressing down on him.
For now.
What the hell did that mean?
Yoren took a slow, steadying breath. His fingers grazed his throat, still cold from the ghost of her blade.
"Let me you ask you this. Answer me..."
...
"Yoren, what race are you, which world are you from, and who are you?"