The office door slid open automatically as Ulrich spoke the single word.
David stepped in. His steps were firm, but his eyes still carried remnants of the rage from training earlier.
Ulrich didn’t speak right away.
The old man with silver hair sat calmly behind a massive desk, idly spinning a pen between his fingers.
After a few seconds, he looked up.
"Something on your mind, David?"
David stood straight. "No, sir."
He’d said it so quickly—"No, sir"—as if pain could be outranked. As if loneliness could be filed under protocol. But silence clung to him like an old injury: invisible, but aching. Ulrich couldn’t see it. Everyone couldn’t, and for make it worse... David kept pretending the fracture wasn’t there.
Ulrich offered a thin smile. "You nearly broke that kid’s jaw."
David didn’t respond.
Ulrich leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering.
"What about that missing person report?"
David frowned. "...Sorry, I haven’t—"
Ulrich raised one eyebrow.
David immediately corrected himself.
"Confirmed. The one pulled into the Vortex was a man named Nathan. Corporate worker. No military background. Not listed as a Hunter."
Ulrich nodded slowly. "And do you know him?"
"No. But I know his family," David replied flatly.
"Find out more. Everything you can."
David gave a sharp nod.
Just then, another knock came at the door.
"Come in," Ulrich called out.
In came a middle-aged woman—followed by a child who immediately ran in.
"Ahahaha! Prilly, come here!"
Ulrich laughed out loud, his entire demeanor shifting.
No tension. Just genuine joy and big arms lifting his granddaughter high.
David simply stood there, unmoving.
Ulrich looked over while laughing, "We’ll continue this later, David. My granddaughter’s here—I have to save the world from her too-strong hugs, hahaha!"
David gave a faint smile, saluted, and stepped out. Ulrich preach his source of happiness, leaving David alone.
As he walked toward the lift,
His steps were heavy.
Seeing Ulrich with his granddaughter—
that moment of joy—felt like a knife in his chest.
"...What the hell..." he muttered under his breath.
His jaw tightened. His breathing grew heavy.
He clenched his fists.
He didn’t know what burned more—the emptiness in his chest or the fact that he still wanted to be held, by someone, anyone. But some men aren’t built to be held. Some men are built to walk into Towers just to feel something bite back.
With nowhere else to go, he made a decision:
Elsewhere in the city...
Sophia stood in front of a familiar door.
A soft knock, followed by the sound of approaching footsteps.
The door opened. Emily stood there—her face far brighter than the last time they met.
"Sophia... come in," she said warmly.
Inside, Lily sat on the couch, watching TV while eating a jelly cup.
When she saw Sophia, her eyes sparkled.
"Sis Sophia!!" she shouted.
Sophia smiled and took off her jacket.
"I’ve... been summoned into the Tower. I’m officially a Hunter now," she declared.
The word "Hunter" sounded heroic. Brave. Daring. But in Sophia’s voice, it sounded like an apology wrapped in armor. Like someone who had already bled too much, now forcing herself to be steel—because no one else would. Because waiting didn’t bring Nathan home. Only clawing forward might.
Lily sat up straight, her jelly cup slipping onto the carpet.
Her wide eyes gleamed. "You can... find him?"
Hope can be loud. It can crash through a child’s eyes like fireworks. But this hope—Lily’s—was quiet. Fragile. Like a balloon tied to a single breath. Sophia felt it land in her chest and stay there. Heavy. Alive. And impossibly bright.
Sophia looked into those eyes—
eyes filled with hope, too pure for a chaotic world.
But her smile was enough to promise something unspoken.
Meanwhile, in the forest clearing inside the Tower...
"Final log," Nathan exhaled, lifting the massive piece of wood now full of love-holes.
He didn’t say it like a victory. He said it like a man finishing something no one would ever praise. There was no applause for this work. No celebration for building poop canals with monster girls. Just sawdust, sweat, and a weird peace that always vanished the second he looked away.
Velmora was already in position—tail spinning slowly like a drill just waking up from a nap.
Nathan pointed at a spot. "Here. One last hole. Then we’re done."
Velmora nodded with bright enthusiasm. "Roger~!"
The organic drill hummed back to life.
Nathan, though tired, felt satisfied.
Sweat ran down his chest, but his mind was calmer.
"...This one needs dusting too... ehe..."
Velmora was already leaning in again, ready to blow.
But before another absurd scene could unfold—
Domina and Livia leapt out from behind the trees.
Their bodies glistened with morning dew, but their eyes...
It wasn’t the ambush that scared Nathan. It was their silence. Their eyes—sharp, thinking. Like the girls he’d played with were gone, and in their place were strangers with memory. He suddenly felt like a liar in front of women who finally learned how to read truth.
Morvessa floated down from above—like an investigative angel.
Even Validia stirred awake, sitting up, yawning and rubbing her eyes.
"W-What? What’s going on? Why are you all—" Nathan’s voice cracked. Not from physical fear, but from something deeper. It was the sound of a boy caught cheating in a dream—caught loving, lying, pretending, surviving. Domina’s eyes didn’t hold hate. They held history. And Nathan—he wasn’t sure if he was part of it anymore.
Domina stepped forward.
not the usual gentle Caramel Mommy look.
"Nathan," she said softly, yet firmly.
Nathan took a half-step back.
"What?" His heart pounded— not from horniness, but from fear.
For the first time ever, the look in Caramel Mommy’s eyes had changed. It was like the glare of an evil stepmother straight out of a tragic fairy tale.