The next morning.
Nott slowly woke up, his eyes half-closed under his messy hair. He looked around in confusion, seeing a girl with long light blonde hair tied into a ponytail, and dark green eyes behind prescription glasses. She was standing near his bed with a friendly smile.
Milly, in a calm tone: "Oh, you finally woke up! Welcome to Steel Hotel. I'm the doctor here, my name is Milly. Nice to meet you!"
Nott, confused as he rubbed his face with his hand: "…W-where am I?"
As he tried to process what was happening, he placed his hand on his right eye, only to suddenly realize that his usual eyes patch was missing. He froze for a moment, and then his heartbeat quickly accelerated. He sat up suddenly, his eyes widening in panic.
Nott, loudly and with worry: "The patch! Where's my eyes patch?!"
Milly was surprised by his reaction, but she quickly pointed to the nearby desk.
Milly, raising her hands in reassurance: "Oh... Do you mean this one? It's here."
She gently picked up the patch from the desk and extended her hand toward him. Nott quickly took it from her without saying anything, then carefully put it back on his eyes, tightening it securely around his head as though he was reclaiming a part of his soul.
During this, Milly calmly sat in the chair next to him, watching him silently, her eyes focused on his face. Her gaze was a mix of curiosity and interest, and a faint smile curled at her lips.
Milly, with a slight smile and hesitant tone: "You really scared me there, for a moment I thought something bad had happened... But, why do you wear this patch, anyway?...
Your eyes... are beautiful."
At that moment, Nott felt as though time had stopped. He froze in place while his heart started racing uncontrollably. His vision became blurry for a few moments, then he focused on Milly, who was smiling gently, her eyes watching him with curiosity.
Milly, tilting her head slightly: "Hmm? Don't tell me you thought I wouldn't see your eyes while I was checking your condition, did you?..."
Nott remained silent, his mind spiraling into a maelstrom of panic. The words she had spoken crushed him in ways he hadn't prepared for. His heart pounded violently, a chaotic rhythm, as if every beat was trying to escape his chest. The suffocating realization hit him like a wave, drowning him in a sea of fear and shame.
His thoughts raced, an overwhelming sense of dread flooding his veins. Oscar's words echoed relentlessly in his mind, "Never let anyone see what's beneath the patch." How could it have been so easy for her to uncover the secret he had fought so hard to hide?
Nott, his voice trembling with unease he couldn't control: "Y... you..."
Suddenly, Milly moved closer to him with a quick, unexpected motion. In that moment, Nott's expression changed in an astonishing way. His face paled as if the blood had frozen in his veins, his features turning as hard as stone. His eyes widened unnaturally, as if preparing to strike back. Every muscle in his body tensed, ready for action. It was as though he were bracing himself for an attack or a confrontation. His heart raced violently in his chest, and his mind was flooded with panic, as if time itself had momentarily stopped.
Milly, with an innocent and surprised tone: "You... why do you wear this patch?!"
Nott, staring at her with an empty expression, muttered in a moment of complete confusion and fear: "... Huh?"
His heart was pounding so hard it felt as though it might burst. His mind was in turmoil, trying to comprehend the situation, while an overwhelming sense of panic gripped him. But he wasn't prepared for what came next.
Milly, smiling softly without noticing his distress: "What I mean is, your eyes are truly amazing! I've never seen eyes like yours in my life! If I were you, I'd probably be a famous star."
In that instant, the turmoil within him suddenly stopped. His heart rate began to slow, returning to its normal pace. The overwhelming sense of panic that had taken hold of him disappeared as quickly as it had come. For a fleeting moment, he felt an odd sense of relief, but that quickly turned into embarrassment. He quickly turned his face away from her, trying to hide his awkwardness.
What had begun as an unexpected threat turned out to be nothing more than a misunderstanding.
Nott, trying to calm himself: "...Oh... I see... [Damn... I was about to kill her just a moment ago...]"
For a moment, he felt a strange sense of relief, but he quickly turned his face away from her to hide his embarrassment.
Milly: "Hmm... Sadly, I'm stuck here in this gloomy job... the pay is decent, but I'm not allowed to see the world... I envy you so much..."
Nott let out a deep, shaky sigh. He shook his head slightly, as if to clear his thoughts, and took a slow, deliberate breath, grounding himself once more.
Nott, in a low voice with confusion: "Um... What happened to the test? The last thing I remember is falling into a coma while facing that man..."
Milly, placing her hand on her hip and smiling: "Oh... Yes, I forgot to tell you. Your condition was very critical. When you were brought to us, you were experiencing a sharp drop in blood pressure and a very weak heart rate. Your muscles were completely relaxed, as if you were in temporary paralysis. You started showing slow or even no response to stimuli, as though you were sinking into a deep coma."
Nott, a bit tense, interrupting her: "W-What!? Were... my heartbeats irregular?!"
Milly, in a serious tone: "Yes. There was a clear disturbance in your heartbeat with significant muscle weakness. When we ran the tests, we discovered an imbalance in your electrolyte levels. The symptoms resembled a psychologically induced heart attack; rapid heart rate, shortness of breath, chest pain, but strangely, there was no actual damage to your heart."
Nott, looking increasingly worried: "But... how did my body respond?!"
Milly, with a faint smile: "[What a clever question...] Well, strangely enough, your body showed a rare ability to adapt. Your adrenaline levels rose dangerously, which led to a gradual stabilization of your heartbeat. You were on the brink of death, but somehow, your body physically overcame the shock you endured."
Nott, in complete shock and confusion: "... How is that possible?... What saved me?"
Milly, looking at him intently: "It might be your genes. Your body responded to the intense stress in a unique and unfamiliar way. Your recovery mechanism exceeded the usual expectations... You're definitely a rare case."
Nott stared at Milly, unable to comprehend what he was hearing. His feelings were a mix of awe and concern.
He closed his eyes for a brief moment, allowing the weight of his panic to slip away. When he opened them again, his gaze was steadier, though still touched by the residual tension. He shook his head slightly, as if to clear his thoughts, and took a slow, deliberate breath, grounding himself once more.
Milly, breaking the silence with a light laugh: "Oh, and by the way... when you said you faced 'Stray'... Hmm, how can I put this gently?... It wasn't really a fight, it was a complete crushing! Hahahaha, you could barely lift your hand before collapsing unconscious."
Nott, closing his eyes and sighing deeply: "Well... I get it. I'm leaving now... Thanks for everything."
Nott slowly got up from the bed, trying to maintain his composure despite the visible tension on his face. As he put on his jacket, he avoided looking at Milly, who was watching him with a small smile, as if she knew exactly that he was still burdened by everything that had happened. The doctor stood in the corner of the room, silently observing him, his serious expression reflecting a professional curiosity, as though he was trying to analyze every small detail of his behavior. Nott walked toward the door with deliberate steps, but before leaving...
Milly, with a playful tone: "Oh, hold on a second, young man... I forgot to tell you. The boss wants to see you. Her office is on the top floor, upstairs."
Nott paused for a moment, waved his hand without looking back, then continued walking out of the room.
As soon as the door closed behind him, Milly shifted her position. She quickly pulled her phone from her coat pocket, her eyes flashing with a serious look. She tapped the screen swiftly, then placed the phone to her ear.
Milly: "Yes, sir... You were right, it's him."
The scene shifts to reveal the other caller, Landon, who had just left Lorien's office. His face was altered, his features taut with a scowl and growing anger with each passing moment. His fist was clenched by his side, as though reflecting the weight of the words he had heard.
Milly: "Should we take care of him?..."
Landon, in a calm voice: "No... Shadows of Nightfort surround the hotel. Don't make any foolish move.
I'll handle him myself."
As Landon walks steadily down the quiet corridor on the top floor, his eyes catch sight of the elevator. He stands in front of it for a few seconds, ready to board, when the doors slowly open.
Inside, Nott stands, his eyes locking with Landon's in a heavy moment full of tension. The two freeze for a moment, and the air between them grows oddly thick.
Nott, with an expressionless face and a steady gaze, watches Landon, whose eyes flare with suppressed anger, intense hatred on the verge of exploding. The silence between them was like an invisible battle, each passing moment intensifying the tension. Even the soft sound of the elevator announcing its arrival couldn't break the intensity of the scene.
Nott, his voice laced with an unsettling confidence, a smirk barely forming at the corner of his lips: "Is there something wrong with my face?"
Landon's eyes burned with a restrained fury, his fists clenching at his sides. His voice, though low, carried the weight of something ready to break: "No..."
Nott tilted his head slightly, his expression unchanging, yet there was something eerily deliberate in his words. A cold whisper, devoid of emotion: "Then stop looking at me like that... I hate it."
For a moment, the air between them thickened, suffocating in its silence. The tension felt almost tangible, like a coiled wire stretched to its limit, waiting for the inevitable snap.
Landon's fist tightens with such force that his knuckles turn white, veins pulsing beneath his skin as if echoing the storm of fury raging inside him. every muscle in his body coiled with restrained aggression as he takes a deliberate step into the elevator, struggling to contain the fire threatening to consume him.
Meanwhile, Nott pivots smoothly, his movements composed, almost indifferent. Yet, beneath that outward calm, there's an unmistakable, lingering tension... like the quiet before a storm. His steps toward Lorien's office are steady, unhurried, but each one carries an invisible weight, a presence that cannot be ignored.
Nott pushed the door open without hesitation, stepping inside. He had barely made it halfway to the desk when...
A sudden, sharp sound exploded in the room.
The atmosphere jolted, as if the entire space had flinched under the weight of that violent noise. A cabinet on the left side of the office trembled for a brief moment before slamming shut with force, as if an unseen, furious presence had pushed it without warning.
In that charged instant, Lorian's gaze flicked toward the cabinet, then swiftly turned to Nott... her eyes widened, not just in surprise, but with something deeper, something layered beneath her usual composed expression.
Nott stood still, his eyebrows slightly raised in confusion. Something felt off. He couldn't understand what had just happened, but the air in the room had thickened, as if something unseen yet undeniably present had settled between them.
Lorian broke the silence, her voice sharp, clipped, as if trying to regain control of the situation.
Lorian: "Next time, knock before you enter... Nott."
Nott remained in place for a moment, her words sinking into him like ice. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had walked in on something he wasn't meant to see... perhaps a rare moment of vulnerability that she had no intention of revealing.
Slowly, he took two steps back and shut the door behind him. Standing outside, he stared at the cold wooden surface, replaying the moment, trying to decipher the look she had given him.
A few seconds passed before her voice came again... this time, steadier, more composed:
"You may enter."
Nott opens the door with careful steps, his eyes watching Lorian as she gently places her phone on the table. She lifts her head towards him, and their gazes meet in a silent moment charged with possibilities.
As Nott entered the room and walked toward the desk ahead, his eyes caught, with a brief glance, the cabinet to his left.
It was half open.
He looked forward again and continued his path without slowing down, indifferent to what he had seen. He showed no reaction, as if it had never existed at all. With steady steps, he kept moving toward the desk, focusing entirely on the reason he had come.
He walks steadily until he stands before her, his expression revealing nothing, though it carries much of what remains unspoken.
Lorien: "Hello, Nott... Please, have a seat."
Thirty minutes later.
Nott remains seated, his fingers gripping a picture of a man with short white hair and piercing red eyes. The man's wrinkled face is twisted into an unsettling smile, and he's dressed in a red suit with a black shirt. The image seems almost too surreal to grasp.
Nott, his voice tinged with disbelief: "So... this man is called 'The Joker,' and my job is to meet him, buy you time, and keep him distracted while you infiltrate his secret hideout?"
Lorian shifts in her chair, adjusting her position as she leans back, her fingers clasped together in a steepled form. Her voice drops to a low, measured tone as she speaks.
Lorien: "Yes... You will simply buy us enough time to extract all the gold and secret documents he has in his hidden vault, which is located in the basement.
And, of course, capture him. That's the most important thing that needs to happen."
Nott: "If you already have this information, then why not go directly there?... Why do you need me to buy you time?..."
Lauren let out a short sigh and then continued in a steady tone: "The Joker has a heavily secured surveillance room, filled with cameras scattered throughout the hotel. So, if we launched a surprise attack, it would send a warning to the other organizations he works for.
In other words, we want to make sure that he will be distracted, and have no idea what's going on."
Nott: "And... why me specifically?.."
Lorian, while pointing to some diagrams and drawings placed in a map on the table: "...Your ability to teleport is useful for missions like this. You can teleport directly to the right side of the hotel on the sixth floor, where there will be trained security guards. Ken will teach you some moves, which you'll need to memorize and apply quickly. Once you get rid of them, teleport directly to the Joker's room.
And pay close attention to what I'm saying... You will be exposed, either by the Joker or his assistant.
And when you are discovered, you will tell him everything."
Nott raised his eyebrows in a display of confusion.
Nott: "... What?"
Lorien: "You'll tell him that you're a spy working for us, and that you're ready to do anything he asks, even if it means working as a double agent under his command."
Nott, his eyes lighting up with intense bewilderment, as if the words he had just heard couldn't possibly be true. His voice, despite his attempt to control it, came out filled with shock and refusal.
Nott: "I won't do that."
Lorien: "Yes, you will! Do you think the Joker will welcome you or treat you kindly? He's mentally unstable, a psychopath. Willing to do anything he finds entertaining. He will torture you until your last breath and make you spill everything you know."
Nott sat there, his gaze fixed on Lorien, a heavy silence enveloping the room. The words echoed in his mind, but the tension in the air suffocated any immediate response. His thoughts raced, processing what had just been said. His hands, clenched tightly into fists on his lap, trembled ever so slightly, betraying the storm of emotions swirling inside him.
He opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words came out at first. The weight of the situation pressed down on him, making it feel as though the room had grown smaller, suffocating him.
Finally, after a long period of almost suffocating silence, Lorian relaxed in her chair. The air in the room was thick with anticipation, as if the very air itself was holding its breath, waiting for her next words. Slowly, she inhaled, and with a deliberate and calm exhale, she turned her gaze to Nott. The calmness in her voice, though softer this time, carried a touch of finality that added a sense of deep unease.
Lorian: "But don't worry... I've chosen a suitable trainer for you."
Before Nott could process the weight of her words, the sound of a door opening broke the tension in the room. Nott's eyes shifted toward the door as another figure entered. It was Ken, his presence undeniable, every movement deliberate and calm. He seemed to exude complete tranquility, his face a perfect contrast to the storm raging in Nott's mind. With slow, measured steps, Ken made his way to the center of the room, meeting Nott's gaze for a moment before turning his attention to Lorian.
Lorian, without taking her eyes off Nott, said: "You'll train with Ken for a week. He'll be responsible for fully preparing you."
Nott's heart skipped a beat, as if the words were cryptic blows that struck him. He was still trying to grasp the magnitude of the situation, he couldn't suppress the feelings of rejection that washed over him, his confusion evident on his face.
Nott: "A week? What am I supposed to learn in such a short time?!"
His voice was full of astonishment and resistance. He was trying to understand, but he had no idea what was expected of him in such a short time. What could be learned or mastered in a week?
Lorian gave a faint smile, but it was devoid of warmth. Her eyes carried a cold, calculating gleam. She allowed the silence to linger, savoring the tension before speaking the grim words that would forever change Nott's way of thinking.
Lorian: "... Assassination."
The room seemed to ripple with this word, as if it filled the air with something dark. For a brief moment, time seemed to stop, and the words sank deep into his mind. Assassination. Nott stood frozen, his face filled with astonishment and confusion. His thoughts collided and overlapped, but he couldn't escape the endless loop. Sweat began to form at the back of his neck, and a sense of dread coursed through his body. Assassination. It wasn't just a concept; it was a very real threat.
Nott turned his gaze back to Lorian, his brow furrowing slightly, before his eyes returned to Ken. Every now and then, there were questions in his eyes, but he tried to hide his anxiety. With every step Ken took, he felt the atmosphere grow heavier, as if the space around him was tightening, suffocating him, pressing him into a place he couldn't escape from.
In that moment, Nott realized, with an unusual clarity, that his journey had just become darker and far more dangerous than he had ever imagined.
Over the course of the seven days, Nott endured a grueling routine that left little room for rest. His day started at 5 AM, dragging him from his short, exhausting sleep. His body was heavy with fatigue, but his mind kept resisting the pull of weakness. Each day brought with it worse than the last, his body aching and breaking down under the pressure of the intense drills, yet Nott kept pushing himself. Every minute screamed for him to surrender, but his determination refused to yield.
During the training, one of the main challenges Nott faced was overcoming three men in various scenarios, each of them trained and prepared to resist. The task required him to remain calm, stealthy, and act with speed and precision. What made it even more difficult was executing the scenario under complex conditions, where he had to first cut the power to the area, plunging everything into complete darkness, giving him the opportunity for a surprise attack.
In those moments, Nott relied on everything he had learned over the past days... his stealth skills and ability to quickly assess his surroundings. With each step, he breathed steadily, making sure his movements remained invisible as he neared his target. Every strike or maneuver carried greater weight than the last, as he knew there was no room for error.
His mornings began with intense physical training, hours of exhausting exercises. He would run on a treadmill at a speed that felt impossible, his breath labored and heart pounding in his chest like it might burst out of him. Each step felt like his body was being forced to carry the weight of the world, but there was no choice but to keep going. Every time he looked to his side, Ken, his strict trainer, stood there, unwavering, pushing Nott to the edge of his limits.
Every three hours, he was granted a brief 15-minute break, the only time he could briefly relax. But even then, his mind was always racing, sinking into his own thoughts. He found himself staring into mirrors during these short breaks, questioning who he had become. He longed for rest, but the kind of peace he craved had become foreign to him. He couldn't remember what it felt like to simply stop. It was as if the world had been reduced to a blur of pain and motion. The questions that haunted him about his path felt distant, but each break was a reminder of how far gone he was, and yet he couldn't stop.
Each time he was forced back into training, his gaze would flicker from Ken... who seemed to exist outside the bounds of time itself... to the world around him. He felt like a mere machine, an instrument of violence being sharpened under constant pressure. At times, he could almost feel the edges of his humanity slipping away with every new drill, every new routine. There was a cynical part of him that wondered if this was truly the path he had chosen... or rather, the path that had been forced upon him.
But slowly, imperceptibly, Nott began to notice changes. Despite the overwhelming pain, his mind started adapting. His body grew stronger, his movements more precise. By the third day, he was sparring with knives, his techniques more honed. On the fifth day, he found himself executing close combat moves with chilling accuracy, his responses almost instinctual. But deep inside, the real battle continued, and it was one he couldn't escape.
As the days wore on, his rest periods became more and more disorienting. His dreams were filled with visions of people watching him, and others begging him to end their lives. His mind was bombarded with images and emotions that refused to dissipate. In those brief moments of rest, when his eyes would close, memories of his past would resurface, fragmented flashes of the man he used to be. His internal struggle had reached a boiling point, one he could not seem to overcome.
On the seventh day, Nott reached his breaking point. His body was swollen from exhaustion, and his mind was on the verge of collapse from the pressure he'd endured. But when he stood before Ken, the trainer's cold gaze felt like the final test. Ken's words echoed in his mind.
Ken: "You're not here to be good. You're here to be the best. Remember this well, no matter how strong you feel, make yourself ten times stronger."
In that moment, Nott felt everything collapse in on him. The pain, the fatigue, the mental turmoil... it all came to a head. Despite the physical and mental wounds he had accumulated, his heart beat fiercely in his chest. He didn't feel weak anymore. He felt something darker, something primal.
As Nott took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment, he understood. These seven days had shaped him in ways he couldn't have imagined. The questions that once plagued him no longer seemed to matter. He wasn't focused on what lay behind him anymore, but on what came next. In that instant, he realized that this might be the beginning of a new chapter... or perhaps, the end of something that had only just begun.