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A bloodied figure limped through a crumbling building, fire and smoke billowing high into the shattered remnants of a ceiling, torn apart as if a massive explosion had erupted from within.
The fire crackled and slowly died out. In its wake, embers began to crystallize, dark specks of obsidian and black crystal dancing in the air as Ether fragments formed over scorched concrete.
The figure staggered forward, using the wall on his right for support. He didn’t care that the ash-covered surface still radiated heat—or maybe he was simply too numb and wounded to feel it. The entire left side of his body was bloodied and burned; it was impossible to tell where the wounds even began.
He stopped when he reached a narrow opening; far enough from the blast’s epicentre to avoid the worst heat, yet still deep enough inside the ruined building that he wouldn’t be seen from outside. Sliding down beside a scorched metal locker, he slumped into the shadows.
In one hand, he gripped something resembling a metal suitcase. Cradled in the other arm was a battered Bangboo. Part of its head casing had shattered, exposing flickering wires and static. It still wore its elegant little suit, now dirtied and torn, and a golden bird insignia gleamed faintly on its chest. The man gave it a gentle shake. Despite the damage, the Bangboo blinked its remaining digital eye.
“Ehn-ne…” (Master…)
“I— I’m sorry your first mission… ended like this—” the man rasped. His words were abruptly cut off by a harsh cough, ashes and debris clogging his respiratory system. He wheezed, blood splattering from his lips, his blonde hair pooling like scorched silk on the floor.
“Ehn-nah, ehn-en!” (Master, your injuries…!)
“I… managed to steal the Hollow data from their terminal before it exploded. The Hollow’s spatial anchor won’t shift for the next ten minutes...” Ignoring the Bangboo’s panicked whirring, the man fumbled a small chip from inside his jacket. With trembling fingers, he inserted it into the Bangboo’s dock port. “I updated your Carrot Data… use it… and get out of this Hollow…”
The Bangboo’s eye flashed with a loading symbol, then shifted back into a wide, worried gaze.
“Ehn-en?!” (Master, what about you?!)
“When you’re out of the Hollow and can reconnect to signal… the SOS… will go straight to Vivian. She’ll come… and bring Robin. They’ll… get me out of here.” He slumped lower against the wall, flashing a weak smile.
“Ehn-na…!” (But, Master…!)
“So don’t worry, okay…?” he murmured, his mismatched eyes fluttering as he forced himself to stay awake.
The man nudged the Bangboo toward the narrow opening in the wall. Beyond it, they could both see the Hollow groan and shift, and they could also hear the screech of an ethereal creature starting to form and piling up in the area.
“Go, now. Save your battery. Use the map, find a safe route, avoid the monsters… and get out of this Hollow.”
The Bangboo looked sad, but it nodded with determination. Then, it dashed off on its tiny legs, following the updated route on its navigation module across the collapsing ruins of the Hollow.
The man watched as the little robot disappeared into the rubble, before darkness finally consumed him.
“I apologize for requesting your services on such short notice, Master Proxies.”
There were three people inside the Random Player’s staff room. A wolf Thiren sat on the lone sofa, while the two legendary Proxies of New Eridu’s —Phaetons— had pulled up office chairs to sit nearby. The two listened carefully as the Thiren explained his request.
“No worries, Lycaon!” chirped Belle, the younger sister of the Phaetons, her voice cheerful. She was hugging Bangboo 6, the store’s staff Bangboo, tightly in her arms.
Her older brother, Wise, seated beside her, gave a calm nod. “We were curious about this sudden disaster anyway. It’s strange— a minor companion Hollow with no official name, low on the HIA’s danger index, and now it's suddenly spiking in activity and expanding? Something doesn’t add up.”
The wolf thiren, Lycaon, nodded in relief. The Head of Victoria Housekeeping had just finished explaining his commission request to the two underground Proxies. It was a peculiar one: he had asked the Phaetons to guide him to a specific coordinate inside a newly formed, unstable Hollow.
Under normal circumstances, Lycaon would have relied on the legitimate, official Hollow investigators sanctioned by the HIA. But given how new and volatile this Hollow was, he couldn’t afford to wait or take risks with unknown dangers. So, he had turned to the less-than-legal route. And you couldn’t exactly blame him, because it was a collective agreement of the people of New Eridu that this underground Proxy was currently, de facto, the most skilled Hollow explorers in the field.
Also, this was urgent. Hiring formal investigators required paperwork administration, permits, and time—luxuries Lycaon simply didn’t have at the moment.
Near the trio, an old retro-style television buzzed quietly. It was tuned to a live news report, covering the same Hollow disaster. The volume had been turned low so as not to disrupt their discussion.
...The HIA has dispatched an investigation team to assess the situation…
Belle stood up when a soft notification chimed from their impressive computer setup on the corner of the room. Lycaon had seen the setup once before, but the HDD (Hollow Deep Dive) System was still a sight to behold. Lycaon watched as Belle scanned the contents of an incoming article sent by their AI assistant, then she turned her head toward Lycaon and Wise. “The HIA just updated their records. They’ve officially named it ‘Aegis Hollow’, given its location near Aegis Plaza.”
Wise sighed, “Figures. The northwest sector has always been volatile— Lemnian Hollow has been unstable for the past three months. At this rate, Aegis Hollow could solidify into something as massive as the Ballet Twins Hollow.”
…Authorities have set a five-mile perimeter around the area, estimating the potential range of Hollow expansion…
As Belle returned to her seat, Wise turned his attention to Lycaon, who had been unusually quiet throughout the exchange. The wolf thiren kept glancing toward the television screen, and unlike his usual calm, composed demeanor, this time, his anxiety was unmistakable. He didn’t even try to hide how intently he was watching the news, even though he should have been focused on the two people sitting in front of him— the very people whose services he’d requested.
Wise clearly noticed Lycaon’s uncharacteristic distress. The siblings exchanged a brief look before the older one finally spoke. "Lycaon, we’ll be direct. We’re not going to ask why you suddenly want to investigate this Hollow."
That snapped Lycaon’s attention back. He had to mentally pull himself together before shifting his lone crimson eye to meet theirs.
Once Wise knew he had the wolf’s focus, he continued, his expression serious as he crossed his arms. "But it would be helpful if you could give us a heads-up on what we’re walking into."
Lycaon gave a slow nod. "You have my word, Master Proxies. This isn’t a commission from the Mayor. It’s a personal matter. That’s also why I’m going in without Butler."
It was only natural for the siblings to be wary; his request had come mere hours after the Hollow's sudden appearance. The timing was far too suspicious to be brushed off as a coincidence. And his whole demeanor while watching the news certainly didn’t help.
While New Eridu had prided itself on its technological prowess and the industrial use of Ether and Hollow resources, it was no secret that, beneath the surface, countless factions competed fiercely to control these seemingly limitless supplies.
And Lycaon— well, his status as a servant of the Mayflower Family only made the Phaetons’ caution more justified. By extension, anything he did could easily be interpreted as a move orchestrated by the Mayor himself. Including this abrupt request to investigate Aegis Hollow.
Lycaon had been prepared to offer further reassurance that this commission had nothing to do with the Mayor. But, to his surprise, his earlier statement seemed to be enough. Wise leaned back in his seat, visibly more at ease, while Belle’s smile widened.
“Then we’ll accept this commission,” said the older Phaeton, always the more administrative of the pair.
Lycaon allowed himself a breath of relief. Honestly, he hadn’t prepared a plan B in case the Phaetons turned him down.
Belle pulled a tablet from the workbench beside her, scrolling through a list of codes. “There’s no Carrot data currently available for Aegis Hollow. Its core structure keeps shifting… the old Carrot data’s most likely obsolete,” she muttered, more to herself than to their guest.
Her older brother gave a thoughtful nod. “So, it’s similar to the Melonia Hollow case, then.”
The two siblings briefly discussed some technical details between themselves. Lycaon, with years of experience serving the elite, kept his expression professionally neutral—but internally, the thiren stiffened at the mention of Melonia Hollow. That particular site should have been classified information, accessible only to H.A.N.D. elites.
If they were comparing this new Hollow to the one designated specifically for the highest-tier disaster response unit, then things were already looking far worse than he anticipated. Clearing his throat, Lycaon asked, “Is it still possible to explore it safely? Or will you need time to chart the route?”
The siblings exchanged a glance.
“For that…” Belle turned to the computer screen, addressing the eye icon displayed there. “Fairy, are you up for the challenge?”
“Understood, Master. Beginning data extraction and route analysis,” the AI responded promptly.
Belle chuckled. It was a testament to the two Proxies’ experience that they remained so calm in the face of something that would make most Hollow investigators break a sweat. “Well, there you go. Fairy sounds excited. Guess our electricity bill’s gonna spike this month.”
“I’ll make sure to compensate you generously for the urgency and the trouble. I can offer 20% more than the usual upfront, if that’s acceptable.”
Wise shook his head with a chuckle. “We’ll talk payment later. Belle and I will handle the prep. Let’s regroup at Ballet Twins Road.”
“Understood. I’ll see you there, Master Proxies.”
[5 hours ago]
“Great work, everyone.”
Lycaon said as his metal prosthetic leg landed squarely on a raider’s helmet. The solid clash of metal against metal knocked the man out cold. That should be the last of them. All around him lay the uniformed raiders, sprawled unconscious across the grand entrance hall.
One of the raiders groaned, his metal shield and arm guard split clean in two by Corin’s oscillating saw. The sight of his armor plate being sawed through by a massive chainsaw-like weapon had sent him into a panic, a reaction Corin had used to her advantage. Truth be told, her weapon operated on special vibration-based tech. It could slice through hard materials like metal, wood, and ethereal crystal— but not soft surfaces like human skin. Not that the enemies needed to know that.
Another man tried to push himself up, groaning in pain, only to be met by the blunt end of Ellen’s oversized weapon slamming into his stomach. He dropped back to the floor, unconscious.
“We wrapped this job up a lot faster than I anticipated,” Rina said as she floated near the drowsy Ellen. Her two Bangboo companions darted around her; Drusilla mocking the fallen enemies, and Anastella eagerly echoing the jeers. The head maid turned to the leader of Victoria Housekeeping. “Do you think they’ll send a second wave, Sir Lycaon?”
They were in a massive, though long-abandoned, mansion on the northern edge of New Eridu. Its owner, a prominent figure in the city’s administration, had refused to completely part with the family heirloom despite the area being a high-risk zone for Hollow expansion. So, once every month or so, he hired Victoria Housekeeping Co. to perform… ‘maintenance,’ which included clearing out any Hollow raiders squatting on the grounds. After all, the mansion wasn’t technically inside a Hollow, just near one, making it a very tempting target for scavengers.
Lycaon shook his head. “Unlikely. According to our intel, this group was the only one.” He dragged the unconscious raider to the growing pile in the center of the hall, stacked neatly like discarded furniture.
The wolf thiren checked his golden pocket watch, estimating the time for thoroughly finishing the commission they had, and how to most effectively wrap the case up. Then, he turned to Rina. “I want you to sweep the mansion again. Ellen, go with her.” He ordered with his usual calm and steady voice.
“Of course, Sir Lycaon,” Rina replied with her usual graceful tone.
“Got it, boss,” Ellen muttered, hoisting her giant gardening shears onto her shoulder. The two were quick to disappear into the upper hallways.
Lycaon then looked to the youngest maid. “Corin, with me. Grab the ropes we prepared. Time to take out the trash.”
“Y-Yes, sir! Mr. Lycaon!”
They worked in silence, Lycaon ensuring each knot was tightly secured so none of the raiders would be escaping anytime soon. Corin moved back and forth from where their supplies were kept, bringing ropes and restraints as needed. By standard procedure, the criminals would be anonymously handed over to Public Security—one less outlaw gang causing trouble in the city.
“U-Um… Mr. Lycaon?” Corin’s voice broke the silence as Lycaon reached the ninth man. His ear twitched—subtle, but enough to show he was listening, though his hands remained focused on binding the raider’s limp limbs.
“What is it, Corin?”
She pointed hesitantly. “Um, your phone’s been beeping…”
Lycaon paused and blinked his lone crimson eye. Only then did he register the soft, repeating three-tone beep coming from his coat pocket, one every ten seconds.
Oh, so his bad habit of tunnel-focusing hadn’t gone away, after all. A brief glimpse of a certain blonde youth from his past graced his memory.
"That tunnel focus again. Is this your ‘apex predator’ thiren’s characteristic? Focused vision is supposed to help a predator hunt, Lycaon, not make him look sloppy, reckless, and careless."
Lycaon exhaled through his nose and gave his head a small shake, chasing away the voice. The echo of that soft chuckle, silken and lingering, seemed to fade into the cold air of the manor. An echo only his ears could hear.
“Please excuse me, Corin.”
After securing the last of the raiders, Lycaon stepped away into a quiet corner and retrieved his phone from his vest pocket. Truthfully, he hadn’t expected any messages—he rarely used the device outside of professional necessities. Ellen often called him a boomer or something like that, and Lycaon himself did prefer old-fashioned sources of information, like newspapers or television.
Anyone who might message him should’ve already been here, save for the Mayor. Clients contacted Victoria Housekeeping co. through official channels— Butler handled that. So Lycaon had no idea who would be texting him at two in the morning.
And frankly, using a touchscreen with claws was… less than ideal.
He frowned at the notification. The sender was an unknown number. Judging by the fact that his phone’s high-level security system (a standard for all Mayflower attendants) hadn’t flagged it, there were only two possibilities: it was either some cheap scam or the message was heavily encrypted.
Considering the mission they were on, Lycaon prepared for the worst and tapped the message open.
His single eye widened.
It wasn’t an ad. It wasn’t a phishing link. It wasn’t a wall of text from a scammer trying to sell some half-baked scam story.
It was a single sentence broken down into two lines. No greeting. No context. No attachments or links. Just a plain, quiet message sitting in the middle of the screen:
[The moon kept watch beneath the silver gloom,]
[As a bird’s wings cut silence in midnight’s bloom.]
Most people would assume it was a wrong number— some overly poetic drunk text someone sent to their friends. It was two in the morning after all, a normal time where people got wasted, drowned in late-night regrets and bad decisions. But Lycaon recognized the line. He recognized it instantly.
It’s a code— but an impossible one.
Because only one person knew this phrase. These precise sentences.
Lycaon’s breath caught. With trembling fingers and an uncertain mind trying to process the event but failing miserably, Lycaon typed the other half into the reply field without thinking, without knowing what doors he was unlocking, what consequences would unfold from answering it.
[Echoes linger where the darkness lies,]
[And fleeting glimmers fade beneath the starry skies.]
He hit Send. And waited. Lycaon waited with bated breath, he had never felt so restless before. Heck, even the world seemed to freeze, like the earth itself paused in its spin to accompany his wait for the reply messages.
Then, his phone beeped again as a reply came through.
And if Lycaon hadn’t been shocked before, he was definitely shocked now.
[ SOS. 12.3872N 139.2045W ]
A glaring distress signal in bold font. A set of coordinates. And beneath it, a formula; long, dense, symbols and numbers tangled together in a cipher Lycaon didn’t have time to parse through. His eyes and his mind only focused on what mattered:
Only one person knew that code. Only one person could’ve sent this message.
And that person… was in danger.
Lycaon’s hand nearly crushed his phone in his grip. Questions flooded his brain: Is this really him? What happened? Why now? —but they all collapsed into a single, burning conclusion:
I need to save him.
Even after everything, even though they had split apart in the ugliest way imaginable, Lycaon wasn’t cruel enough to ignore a direct plea for help. They hadn’t spoken since that night, the night everything fell apart. The man had vanished off the radar while Lycaon adapted to his new role within the Mayflower family; The very family the man had once stood against. It was glaringly clear that they were now on opposite sides of the board.
Wait— could this coordinate be a trap? Lycaon’s doubtful mind whispered. No. If it were a trap, the sender wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of using cryptic codes. Or… could it be the opposite? What if the man had uncovered something dangerous— something that threatened not only him, but those around him, maybe even the whole of New Eridu? And this coordinate… was it a warning? A fragment of intel passed on like a dying ember from a bond long broken. Because deep down, Lycaon was still naïve and selfish enough to hope that the man still cared. Even if just a sliver.
But the SOS made it clear: This wasn’t just a message. It was a cry for help.
Lycaon gritted his teeth, resolve hardening like steel.
“Corin,” he called out sharply, turning back toward the others. “Recall Rina and Ellen. I have something urgent to take care of.”
[Present time – Entrance point of Aegis Hollow]
“This Hollow… Does not seem like a normal Hollow at all,” Belle said. Her consciousness was now synced to Phaeton’s Bangboo, Eous. The small bunny-shaped robot looked around in awe inside the Hollow.
It wasn’t anything particularly special; just the old ruins in the northwest part of the city, relatively close to the ocean. Before the Hollow had manifested here, the area had been a nature-oriented tourist spot, with Aegis Plaza as the main attraction, not far from a well-known golf course in Old Eridu. After the fall of the old capital, this district was one of the first to be invaded by Hollow companions. But since the area wasn’t dense in population, and it was located far from the parent Hollow —the Lemnian Hollow— the so-called Aegis Hollow had been dismissed as a minor one of no importance.
Well, that was until this morning.
They had entered Aegis Hollow through a fissure near Ballet Twin Roads. The Phaetons had managed to locate one that bypassed the official entrance guarded by the HIA team.
“Before we go any further, I still have a few questions about the coordinates and the formula you gave us, Lycaon,” the older brother said, his voice coming through Eous’s speaker.
Lycaon, adjusting the straps around his fists to better fit his gloves, gave a ‘go ahead’ nod—then shook his head, signaling uncertainty. “I’m afraid my knowledge is limited to where I received them,” he said. “I don’t know what the formula does or what exactly we’re supposed to find at those coordinates.”
The SOS messages, Lycaon could understand. But the complex formula that came with them? Not so much.
“No, you see—we ran a simulation using the formula you provided,” Wise began. “When we input it along with the coordinates, it generates a new series of locations, all based on a variable multiplier: ‘T’.”
“That ‘T’ represents the base time factor inside the Hollow,” Belle added. “Hollow Investigators like us use it regularly. Roughly speaking, it equates to 30 minutes in the real world.”
Following along, Lycaon furrowed his brow as he reached a conclusion. “Are you saying the coordinates I got aren’t the actual target location?”
“Not exactly,” Belle replied. “It’s more like the first set of coordinates is a fixed starting point. But every thirty minutes, the Hollow shifts spatially, and the original location gets displaced. That’s why the formula exists—it’s meant to help track the movement. You said you received the message at 3 a.m., right?”
“Yes. To be exact, it came in at 02:46:33.”
Eous gave a short nod. “Got it. Fairy, run the calculation using the current time.”
“Understood, Master,” the AI assistant replied. As the Phaetons took turns speaking, the proxy’s AI joined in seamlessly. “Analyzing Hollow map. Calculating optimal routes.”
After a short pause, Eous’s interface displayed a mini-map. A red dot blinked in the distance, with new coordinates being calculated in real time as the supercomputer processed the shifting Hollow data.
“Let’s move,” Belle said, guiding Eous forward. The butler was already prepared to follow. “I’m counting on you for the ethereal monsters up ahead, Lycaon.”
“Will do, Master Proxies.”
As they navigated deeper into the Hollow, Lycaon assessed the surroundings while moving at high speed. During missions with the Victoria Housekeeping members, he’d always had to adjust—holding back his natural pace so his teammates wouldn’t fall behind. The only one who could ever keep up with him was Ellen, likely because she also carried the traits of an apex Thiren. But now, on a solo mission, there was no need to restrain himself. He could push his metal prosthetics to their limit.
The Hollow greeted him with a familiar scene: crumbling ruins and the unpleasant screeches of ethereal monsters. These ones looked like standard variants; their mutant bodies riddled with jagged green crystals. The sight made Lycaon bristle inwardly—his obsessive need for cleanliness flaring at the visual ‘filth.’ With seamless precision, he tore through each encounter, dispatching them with relative ease.
It wasn’t long before the group witnessed the first manifestation of the formula's effect. Belle halted them, her eyes wide with unhidden awe as the space around them began to glitch. Reality fractured into a grid of rectangular blocks, shifting and rotating like a giant Rubik’s Cube Ellen played during their downtime.
“So this is the… relocation,” Lycaon murmured, equal parts amazed and unsettled. No matter how many missions he'd been on, no matter how familiar he was with the Hollow’s instability, seeing a spatial anomaly unfold in real time still managed to disturb him.
The shift was quick. In a blink of an eye, the world around them reassembled, the cube-like lines vanishing as if they’d never existed. And also in that blink of an eye, everything around them has changed.
“Our current coordinates… they match exactly with the calculated endpoint. Amazing…!” Belle confirmed, visibly stunned. “This formula is legit.”
She sounded excited at first—understandable, considering that most Hollow Investigators were, at heart, researchers and scholars fascinated by anomalies. But then, her voice faltered, Eous glanced nervously to the butler, “…But, Lycaon?”
“Yes, Master Proxy?”
Eous hesitated, as if Belle wasn’t quite sure how to phrase her question. “I know we said we wouldn’t pry into your personal matters, but… I can’t help wondering—who sent you these coordinates in the first place? And how did they even have the formula? It’s like they already knew how this Hollow functioned. A newly formed Hollow, on top of that.”
“…”
At Lycaon’s silence, Belle quickly backpedalled, her tone soft with guilt. “Ah— sorry, you don’t have to answer if you’re not comfortable—”
“It’s alright.” Lycaon shook his head. “I can tell you the gist of it while we move.”
Belle nodded through Eous, and they resumed their sprint toward the blinking red dot on the map. Elsewhere, in the Random Player’s video archive room, Wise leaned closer to where his sister’s physical body was seated, his eyes trained on the towering array of monitors. He was listening too, visibly curious.
As they ran, Lycaon’s lone eye stared ahead, thoughtful. “The person who sent it to me… was an old friend,” he began.
Lycaon had never been one to speak about his past. Ever since being taken in by Mayflower and placed under the Victoria Housekeeping Company, he’d assumed most people wouldn’t want to hear about where he came from. Strangely enough, those who did know had never judged him for it.
One thing for sure was that Lycaon didn’t regret his past. He never did. But that didn’t mean it didn’t leave behind bitter memories.
Maybe it was nostalgia. Maybe it was guilt. He was dragging the Phaetons into something personal. Either way, they deserved some context. So, as they moved through the shifting Hollow, Lycaon gave them a brief rundown: about the man who sent the coordinates, about the faction Lycaon had once belonged to, and about how Lycaon had changed sides and was now serving under the Mayor of New Eridu with the Victoria Housekeeping Co. instead.
Maybe time had passed faster because they were so engrossed in conversation, but they reached the vicinity of the target coordinates right on schedule. Lycaon had to fight through a horde of smaller ethereals along the way, but they crumbled easily beneath his kicks.
“The coordinates lead to that tall, destroyed white building!” Belle announced, using Eous’s pointy hands to indicate the crumbling structure ahead.
They entered through what had likely once been the front gate, before it was reduced to rubble. As they passed under the wreckage, Lycaon came to a halt, his attention caught by a half-buried marble plaque. Likely once a welcome plate, it now sat cracked and half-covered in etheric crystal and debris, but the engraved text was still visible.
Lycaon placed Eous on his arms so that the proxy could also see the plaque. “Darnell Biomedical Hub…” Belle read out aloud. “This building was a research facility?”
But Lycaon’s attention wasn’t on the name. His eye was locked on a small emblem engraved in the lower right corner of the plaque.
“This crest…”
It depicted the Rod of Asclepius, but flanked on each side by stylized sprigs of sage and eucalyptus, crossed like gentle wings.
Belle craned Eous’s head to look up at Lycaon’s deepening frown. “You recognize that logo?”
Lycaon’s expression tightened. “Yes. This is the family crest of the Dunford family. They were once a prominent house tied to TOPS. If this facility bears their seal, it means this research facility was likely funded by a Dunford donation.”
He squinted slightly as he reached the part about TOPS, one of the major forces that stood in opposition to the Mayflower family. Which meant they weren’t just standing inside a Hollow. They were standing in enemy territory.
“Searching keyword: ‘Dunford’,” Phaeton’s AI assistant chirped. “Top result: a news article dated fifteen years ago, detailing the fall of the Dunford family following their public alignment with the Order. The last known head, Landon Dunford, was declared dead after an unspecified incident. His daughter, Dina Dunford, disappeared from the public eye shortly after.”
“The Order!?” Wise’s voice clipped sharply through Eous’s audio. “We’re standing in an Exaltist facility?!”
Under any other circumstance, Lycaon would’ve registered the urgency and sudden tension in the Phaetons’ voices. After all, the Exaltist was New Eridu’s most notorious cult; chaos and destruction were their daily ritual.
But Lycaon’s mind was far, far away— caught on a single, spiraling thought:
What is he doing here?
TOPS-affiliated family’s building, one who was also a member of the Exaltist. This didn’t smell good. “…Time is short. Let’s keep moving, Master Proxy.”
Eous nodded as the Bangboo was lowered down once again into the ground to free up the wolf thiren’s hands, in case of any fight happening. Though Lycaon couldn’t see the two Phaetons in person, he could easily imagine the siblings nodding in sync, focused and determined.
They ventured deeper into the ruined building. It covered a wide area, and the further they progressed, the denser the ether energy became. Even with Lycaon’s natural resistance, he could feel the alien force pressing deeper into his lungs with every breath. And with the rising ether concentration came increased aggression from the monsters that lurked within.
“This is definitely weird,” Belle muttered, tiptoeing Eous carefully over a corrupted crack in the floor. “The ether energy here is higher than average. And… it looks like something exploded inside this building.”
“That’s not even the worst part,” Wise added, his voice crackling through the Bangboo’s speaker. “I ran a quick calculation with Fairy. This building is the new epicenter of Aegis Hollow.”
“I beg your pardon?!”
There was a burst of static as the elder Phaeton adjusted his position, likely moving closer to the in-built mic on Belle’s end. His voice came through more clearly now.
“Yes, we know it’s possible to shrink a Hollow by exterminating large numbers of Ethereals inside, lowering the ether concentration that sustains it. But the reverse? That’s still a mystery. Even now, we don’t have enough reliable data to understand how or why a Hollow truly expands.”
Belle picked up the explanation. “Some theories say Hollow expansions happen when a large amount of ether energy rapidly accumulates. That energy then condenses into a powerful Ethereal entity, acting as the core of the expansion. But no one knows what causes the buildup… or how to trigger it.”
“The old Aegis Hollow didn’t have a core,” Wise continued. “That Hollow formed from Lemnian’s residual ether energy. But according to the data I’m getting…” He hesitated. “This facility is the location of the sudden spike in etheric activity. It’s the new core.”
Lycaon’s fists clenched at his sides. His next steps fell heavier, his metal limbs pressing deeper into the floor with each movement. He gritted his teeth. “Considering this is an Exaltist facility… I can’t say I’m surprised in the slightest. We’ll need to relay this to the authorities. The Exaltist might be planning something that could threaten all of New Eridu.”
“Master,” before they could further discuss more of the bleak possibilities of a cult running amok on the last frontier of civilization beneath the catastrophe disaster we called Hollow Disaster, Phaeton’s AI assistant interrupted them. “I’ve detected a faint bio-signal, coming from twenty-three meters ahead of our current position.”
“We’d better move. Let’s go, Lycaon!” Belle quickened the steps of her bangboo, picking up speed. “I see the corner up ahead—there should be a right turn just after it!”
Lycaon gave a curt nod and followed the proxies’ instructions. One thing stood out immediately: this section of the facility was eerily empty. No ethereal monsters prowled here, likely because the area had been sealed off by collapsed debris. Most ethereals were too large to slip through the narrow gaps. Another thing he noticed was the temperature change. This part of the building was warmer than the front gate, likely due to some lingering heat source, though now, it had been overtaken by the cold, unnatural chill of etheric crystals lazily forming along the walls.
Lycaon counted the meters as he moved, drawing closer to the indicated spot. Just ahead, as the proxy had said, there was a turn. He took it—
—and felt his heart nearly stop.
There, in a partially hidden corner behind a scorched locker, was a man. Blond hair fell over a lowered face, a worn suitcase discarded at his side. Lycaon couldn’t see his features, but he didn’t need to. Lycaon just knew. Even through the thick mix of ash, fire, and ether clinging to the air, his sharp wolf senses caught the unmistakable trace of a familiar scent.
“…Hugo…!”
Without thinking, Lycaon activated the ice boosters in his prosthetic legs, launching himself forward. He dropped to his knees beside the fallen man, crimson eye wide, frantically scanning and checking up his… former partner’s condition.
Hugo was pale. He’d always been pale in Lycaon’s memory, but this— this was deathly pale.
Lycaon’s breath hitched in horror as he took in the blood-soaked ruin of Hugo’s left side. Gently, almost reverently, he gathered the unconscious man into his arms. Hugo’s eyes were half-open, the mismatched irises staring blankly ahead, utterly devoid of awareness. His head lolled against Lycaon’s shoulder, and the Thiren felt his own breathing quicken into an unhealthy rhythm.
Eous was beside them, the Bangboo’s digital eyes widening as Belle finally took in the person Lycaon cradled. “This is horrible…” she whispered. “Who could’ve done this to him?” Her eyes flicked between the unconscious blond man and the frantic butler, the realization dawning like a punch to the chest. This— this was why Lycaon had insisted on coming to Aegis Hollow. Lycaon had been looking for this man.
Lycaon couldn’t hear anything beneath his thundering beat. He had years of professionalism training since he joined the Victoria Housekeeping, and then another year prior to that, but all that discipline and mental training went out the window as he felt his brain emptying, only filled with frantic and a building panic.
He and Hugo had parted ways… badly. With distances between them, Lycaon had grown into himself, and he wouldn’t be lying if he said he never daydreamed of the day he would be reunited with Hugo again. Lycaon had rehearsed their reunion in his mind countless times: maybe a quiet reconciliation, maybe a hostile standoff where Hugo would curse him and raise his weapon at Lycaon.
He never, in all his life, imagined their reunion after years, to be with Lycaon holding a battered and bloodied, possibly dying, Hugo in his arms, inside a Hollow—
—a starting to crystallize, Hugo, to be exact.
Lycaon watched in utter horror at the green and obsidian particles building up on Hugo’s ashen skin. Starting from his left side’s fingertips. At one glance, Hugo looked like he had gotten a major burn on his left side, but it was mostly just char residue and ashes, with mild burns on the actual skin. The laceration and cuts, however…. The floor around them was stained, and Hugo had been bleeding out in this Hollow for godforsaken how long—
“Lycaon!”
Belle’s sharp voice cut through his spiralling panic like a blade. He looked up, startled, to see her crouched in front of him, her eyes bright with urgency, mirrored through Eous’s glowing gaze.
“Lycaon, get hold of yourself!” She urged, hurriedly, but fortunately not as panickily as Lycaon was, and he was forever grateful for that. Because someone had to keep a clear mind, and right now, that someone was definitely not Lycaon.
“Fairy, check his condition!”
“Understood. Scanning vitals and ether energy levels,” the AI replied steadily.
From Eous’s body compartment, Belle quickly retrieved a portable oximeter, already synced to the HDD system, and was able to send live readings from afar. She clipped it onto one of Hugo’s uninjured fingers. On the Bangboo’s face screen, a buffering symbol appeared as the scan ran.
“Scan complete. Pulse: 140, thready. Blood pressure: 80 over zero. He’s in hypovolemic shock. Oxygen saturation: dropping— 85... 82... holding at 79. Etheric corruption: severe. Immediate evac is strongly advised.”
“Lycaon! Snap out of it! We need to get him out of the hollow, right now!”
Lycaon jerked into motion, his grip tightening slightly around the unconscious man in his arms. He still couldn’t speak as his throat had closed around his words, but his body knew what to do. His hands moved fast, methodical, even as desperation trembled in every motion.
With what little they had, Lycaon began dressing Hugo’s wounds as best as he could, with all the minimal materials, no proper tools, and a lack of a sterile environment. He tore a curtain from a shattered window, fashioned it into makeshift bandages, and wrapped the worst of the bleeding. Then, he pulled emergency supplies from his pack: antibiotics, painkillers, and a syringe of high-grade ether suppressant. He administered the maximum safe dosage of each, his fingers trembling slightly with each press of the plunger.
When the bleeding was slowed and every cut bound as best as he could manage, Lycaon leaned down silently, and desperately, and pressed his snout gently into the crown of Hugo’s head. He inhaled deeply, as if trying to anchor the moment, to anchor him. He refused to believe that their first meeting after all these years, could also very well be their last.
“Don’t you die on me, Hugo,” he whispered, voice raw. He rose carefully, adjusting the blond man in his arms to avoid disturbing the bandages.
It wasn’t going to be easy—navigating a hostile Hollow while carrying someone on the brink of death. He had to trust the proxies to guide them without conflict. He had to make it out. Lycaon had to make Hugo out.
Belle, blessed her heart, said nothing about the desperate intimacy Lycaon had just shown. She simply picked up Hugo’s metal suitcase, his weapon case, and secured it on top of Eous’s head. Lycaon couldn’t carry it himself —not while holding its owner— and Hugo would definitely not appreciate it if he survived this, only to wake up and find they had left behind the weapon he was so proud of; one of his most important possessions.
“This way,” she called. “We came in from the other side—this path is safer!”
Without hesitation, Lycaon broke into a sprint, following the Bangboo as it led them through the twisting wreckage of the Hollow.
Every so often, Lycaon glanced down; Hugo was still unresponsive. Lycaon didn’t even know what he expected. Did he really think Hugo would magically regain consciousness? Even after seeing how severe his injuries were, and how far the corruption had spread? Maybe a small part of him still clung to that naïve optimism; something Hugo used to mock him for, back in the day. But that sliver of hope was the only thing keeping Lycaon from completely losing his mind.
Focus. Lycaon berated himself. Focus, or you will stupidly lose sight of Master Proxy, like a fool.
“There’s another shift! Watch out!” Belle’s voice cut through the air as she abruptly halted, the telltale cube lines reappearing around them. As the relocation happened, they were now in an open area, the scenery resembling that of the old Aegis Plaza. Lycaon cursed out loud as a cluster of self-destructing ethereals was relocated right in front of their noses.
He let out a guttural, animalistic growl, a sound that shocked even him. It’s been a while since the last time Lycaon ever growled at anything or anyone. He inwardly apologized to Hugo, but he had to fight a little crudely and unpolished, since they were running out of time. Grace would come after survival.
After crushing the core of the last crawler ethereal, Fairy's voice came through from the side, where Eous stood safely. “Master. I’ve detected another bio-signal, along with a Bangboo signature, rapidly approaching our current location.”
“Lycaon, I think someone’s coming after us. They’re coming from—” Belle squinted in confusion at the incoming data reading from her assistant, “…above?”
Lycaon’s keen wolf Thiren vision managed to catch only the briefest flicker of purple from a nearby rooftop. Something fast was leaping straight toward them.
“Master Proxy!”
Before Lycaon could move to protect Eous, the figure landed gracefully between them, with the precision of a trained fighter. In the blink of an eye, Lycaon noted what little he could: it was a young woman with flowing lavender hair, wearing an ornate dress. She drove a rapier into the ground as she landed, and in her other hand was a closed… parasol? That explained the way she’d been floating just seconds before.
That was all Lycaon could observe for, really. Because in the very next moment, she slashed her rapier in a wide arc, forcing Lycaon to leap backward, further away from the Master Proxy. Lycaon grunted, trying to fend off the relentless chain of attacks. The young woman twirled gracefully after a sword strike, and only Lycaon’s honed battle instincts saved him as he narrowly dodged a second blow, this time from her parasol, now closed and used like a spear. She struck immediately after completing her full rotation, the tip slicing through the air with deadly precision. She wielded her dual weapons, sword and spear, with fluid mastery, and her constant movement, floating and darting across the field, made her attack pattern nearly impossible to predict.
Who is she? Lycaon wondered, narrowly avoiding another rapier slash as it whistled past his head. The blade nicked his cheek, dangerously close to his muzzle strap. He bared his fangs with a low growl, but the display didn’t seem to intimidate her in the slightest.
“Lycaon—!” Belle's panicked voice rang from behind their mysterious assailant. A small Bangboo in a suit and half-mask covering its face was firing at Eous using what looked like a card-launching gun. Eous scrambled to dodge the barrage of razor-sharp cards streaking toward them.
This wasn’t good. Lycaon had been on the defensive from the start. He couldn’t go on the offense— not while carrying a dying man in his arms and battling the rising panic clawing at his mind. So far, he’d only been able to block or dodge, and even the few counterattacks he managed were deflected by the parasol. On top of that, he had a responsibility to protect the Master Proxy, and he didn’t bring Butler or any combat-ready Bangboo with him.
Keeping his attention solely on the charging woman, securing Hugo on his chest, Lycaon’s ice boosters roared to life as he launched himself upward, narrowly avoiding a burst of ether energy that was blasted from the woman’s parasol. He closed the distance to Eous and aimed a fierce kick at the assailant Bangboo.
The Bangboo saw the strike coming and fired a slinger at a nearby wall, zipping away just in time to dodge Lycaon’s attack.
But that momentary focus on the Bangboo was a mistake. The young woman was fast and equipped with flight-capable tech. Etheric energy burst from a hidden thruster beneath her gown as she darted past him, similar to something Rina used, but way faster.
“Lycaon!” Belle cried out as the lavender-haired woman seized Eous mid-flight. Her voice spiked through the mic, laced with raw panic. She struggled in the woman’s grip, but it was no use; she couldn’t break free.
Just like that, they were back at square one; Lycaon on one end of the field, the attacker on the other. A tense stalemate hung in the air, neither side daring to move.
“Stand back, Robin,” the young woman commanded. She closed her parasol into its spear form, while Lycaon watched tensely. From the edge of a nearby rooftop, the masked Bangboo reappeared, landing softly behind her.
“Enh-en.” (understood), it responded with a mechanical nod.
The woman turned her full attention to Lycaon. “Don’t move,” she said calmly, her blade now poised dangerously close to Eous’s panicked face. Her red eyes briefly flicked to the unconscious Hugo cradled in Lycaon’s arms, and for a fleeting second, a flash of anger crossed her face, though it was quickly suppressed, as though it had never been there.
Her voice turned sharp, precise. “Set the man down by the wall, and then step away, slowly. Or you can say goodbye to your proxy’s Bangboo.” She tilted her blade ever so slightly closer to Eous. “You don’t want to lose your only way out of this Hollow… Now, do you?”
Lycaon froze on his track.
Countless scenarios ran through his head. The young woman’s target seemed to be Hugo. But why? Was she a threat? Was she an ally?
Option one: He could refuse her demand and let her follow through on her threat. Master Proxy had told him before; they could desync from Eous at any time. Technically, Lycaon could cover the repair costs from his own funds. But that would mean being trapped in this volatile, newly-formed Hollow— and that was as good as a death sentence. Hugo still needed medical attention. If Lycaon tried to fight her and failed, and if she still managed to take Hugo and escape, he’d be left alone, powerless, and stranded. Yes, the HIA had investigation teams combing through Aegis Hollow, so maybe he could gamble on his ether resilience and wait for rescue.
Option two: He could give in to her demand and hand Hugo over. If she were a friend, great. But if she was the one who did this to him… Lycaon did not want to imagine what would happen to his (former) partner if he were offered back to her on a silver platter by Lycaon. Lycaon and Hugo might have their differences and perspectives, and they might have split up in negative terms and consider each other enemies, but Lycaon never hated Hugo. So, he will never endanger his (former) partner. Not if there was even a slim chance to protect him.
Option three… Lycaon grimaced. He personally didn’t like this one. Because it meant only violence, brute force. Lycaon could try to brute force his way, doing all the necessary to ensure Hugo was still evacuated safely, while also keeping the master proxy safe. But with their current condition… Lycaon could possibly achieve that if he broke his own conviction of unnecessary violence and… worst case scenario, death.
Lycaon scrapped the third option in a heartbeat.
Or maybe a fourth option… deception. Lycaon could pretend to comply —prioritize the Proxy’s safety— and wait for an opening. Then he’d strike and take Hugo back.
Lycaon liked the fourth option.
Drawing on the acting lessons Hugo used to drill into his head when they were younger, Lycaon exhaled slowly. He moved with care, lowering Hugo to the ground. He made sure not to rest him on his injured side, gently positioning him so he leaned comfortably against the wall of a collapsed shop.
The young woman tracked every movement, eyes sharp and unblinking. Under the Hollow’s abnormal lightning, the red eyes seemed to glow. Once she saw Hugo was fully out of Lycaon’s grasp, she spoke again. “Now step away from him. Slowly. No sudden movements.”
Lycaon pushed back his urge to snarl at this lady. She dressed prim and proper like those from the upper echelons, and she also acted like most of them, too: pushy and demanding.
“It would be appreciated,” Lycaon started, “if you also honored your end of the deal and released the Bangboo.”
Thankfully, she wasn't like the bad majority of the elite society, she was still honoring the agreement. The young woman in violet gently set Eous down, though her Bangboo’s raised weapon had kept Belle frozen in place, her wide eyes darting between them, the tension in her frame taut as a bowstring.
“We’ll switch places,” the woman said. “You'll get your Bangboo back. I'll get the man.” She unfolded the parasol again, letting it rest on her shoulder as the edge of her rapier gleamed in warning.
Lycaon took a step to the right. “I believe now would be an appropriate time for you to identify yourself.”
She mirrored him, stepping to her own right. “You’re in no position to make demands. I’m not obligated to tell you anything.” She refused, simply.
Lycaon kept his tone calm. “Young miss, perhaps there’s been a misunderstanding. We’re not the ones who hurt this man.”
The look she gave him said she didn’t believe a word of it. Time for a different approach.
“Are you with Hugo?” he asked, taking another step.
That made her pause. Her eyes narrowed; her voice curious. “…You know him?”
There might still be a chance to de-escalate this. “Indeed. I do.”
But the ember was snuffed out almost immediately.
“That changes nothing,” she said, her tone cold and final.
They continued their slow exchange, step by step, until they’d fully swapped places. Lycaon now stood in front of a trembling Eous, while the lavender-haired woman faced Hugo’s slumped form. And then she did something that caught Lycaon completely off guard: She turned her back on him. Either she was confident enough to deflect any ambush, or she was a fool.
Lycaon didn’t dare to move.
The young woman crouched beside Hugo. From where he stood, Lycaon could see the unmistakable tenderness in her touch as she brushed the fringe away from Hugo’s face and gently inspected the bruises and cuts.
“Hugo knows a lot of people,” she murmured. “And most of them wish him dead.”
Lycaon was about to test his luck and skill, and launch a surprise attack (honor in combat be damned), when something on the woman’s flowing skirt made him pause.
It’s a logo of a small bird. An unmistakably familiar logo.
“…Are you with Mockingbird…?” he blurted, his mouth moving before his brain could stop it.
The way the young woman immediately shifted into a guarded stance was answer enough. She tried to remain composed, but she wasn’t nearly as skilled as Hugo at masking instinctive reactions. Her body had already betrayed her.
Lycaon raised both hands in mock surrender, trying to signal that he wasn’t a threat. “Please. We mean no harm; to Hugo, or to Mockingbird. We came here because we received a distress signal from him.”
She scoffed, her frown clearly said, Really? Try again.
"That’s impossible. Hugo’s emergency alert was only supposed to be sent to me—” She cut herself off, eyes flicking toward the trembling Eous behind Lycaon’s feet.
“That Bangboo called you ‘Lycaon’ earlier…” she murmured, and then her eyes widened with realization. “You’re Von Lycaon.”
She didn’t say it as a question. It was a statement.
“So, you’ve heard of me?” Lycaon asked, uncertain where this was headed. He desperately hoped she knew his name from Victoria Housekeeping. But who was he trying to fool here? There was only one reason a Mockingbird operative would know who he was.
“I know who you are.” Her expression only grew colder, more closed off. Definitely not a good sign. “Hugo told me plenty about you.”
Lycaon’s breath hitched. There it was. That could either be a good thing… or a very, very bad thing. God only knew what Hugo had told the newer members of Mockingbird about the so-called traitor who walked away from the organization. Lycaon didn’t even know how much the Phantom Thieves Syndicate had grown since he parted ways all those years ago.
“…I don’t trust you,” she said at last.
That single sentence felt like a nail in the coffin.
“Miss, if you’re concerned for Hugo’s safety, then fighting is the last thing we should be doing. He needs medical attention— urgently. Aside from the burns on his left side, he’s showing severe signs of Ether corruption.”
That softened something in the woman’s previously icy expression. Her gaze flicked back to Hugo. “…Fine. But I’m doing this for Hugo’s sake. I won’t point my weapon at you— for now.” She stressed the last part deliberately, but even that thin thread of truce was enough for Lycaon.
“Thank you. We’ve already mapped the exit route out of the Hollow. Master Proxy, please open a comm line to Victoria Housekeeping. I need to contact the hospital—”
“Absolutely not. I think you’re misunderstanding something, Mr. Lycaon,” she said coldly, cutting him off. She slipped Hugo’s uninjured right arm over her shoulders. Their bangboo moved quietly behind her, taking Hugo’s weapon briefcase with its tiny hands. “Hugo stays with us. We have our own medical team.”
“Young miss, surely you don’t believe underground medics can handle this level of corruption and injuries—” Lycaon tried to argue, watching in disbelief as the woman stood with ease, completely unfazed by the weight of a full-grown man leaning on her. Hugo was slim, yes, but tall, and she was shorter, which forced his feet to almost drag along the ground.
“If what Hugo told me was true, then you used to be Mockingbird. You should know our connections are just as capable,” she replied evenly, adjusting her grip around the unconscious man.
“I appreciate you responding to his SOS— even though I believe it was sent by mistake… But from here on out, I’ll handle things myself.”
She paused, then added coolly, “Besides… I don’t trust your intentions in saving Hugo. Mockingbird will never be indebted to the Mayflower Family.”
The way she said it left no room for argument.
“Young miss—” Lycaon tried again, unsure about his next action.
Now that he thinks about it, the woman was a mockingbird, so Hugo was in good hands. But something… something deep inside him, this longing and aching in the pit of his stomach, was making it hard for Lycaon to accept the situation at hand. What if, after he let the birds go, they never grace him with their presence anymore? What if, after this, he will be left with nothing and have to chase after the fluttering birds who flew high up in the sky, mocking him?
“Now that that’s out of the way, we’ll be taking our leave.” The young woman gave a graceful and elegant curtsy to a stunned Lycaon and a still-shaken Belle.
“Wait—!” Lycaon tried to call out, but then the Hollow chose that exact moment to shift again, like even the Hollow was siding with the phantom thieves and helping them slip away from Lycaon’s fingers. The timing was too perfect to be a coincidence. For a heartbeat, Lycaon could almost believe the entire encounter had been scripted, a performance carefully staged to its final bow. The curtain fell, and the actors had closed the stage.
And just like that, Lycaon was left behind.
Hugo, the lavender-haired woman with eyes like blood, and their Bangboo, was gone.
Just like that.
[Sometime after, somewhere inside a vintage bedroom]
A gentle night breeze drifted through an open ceiling window of a luxurious, classic bedroom. The thin, translucent curtains fluttered softly, dancing with the wind. Moonlight spilled into the room from a starry sky, casting a silver sheen over everything. Outside, a school of bats took flight from the nearby trees.
In the center of the room, on a grand four-poster bed, a blond man lay still beneath a mountain of silk and quilt. Bandages wrapped most of his left side. He looked pale and feverish.
Mismatched eyes blinked open slowly. A gentle hand gripped his more tightly.
"...Vivian...?" the man rasped weakly, recognizing the presence without the need to turn his head.
"Hugo," came the soft reply, slightly hitched. "You're finally awake. Thank God."
Still disoriented, Hugo blinked again, trying to coax his sluggish mind into motion. "How long...? What about Simon...?"
The bedroom light was off; only a dim table lamp added to the moon’s glow. In the low light, Hugo's left eye, crimson like Vivian’s, reflected the moonlight like a shard of ruby.
"It’s been three and a half days," Vivian replied. "Simon’s navigation module was damaged beyond repair. Being exposed to such a potent ether energy had messed his inner circuits. We can’t bring him into the Hollow anymore. For now, Robin assigned him to gallery duty."
Hugo shifted slightly, there was barely any sensation on his left side at all. Simon… ah yes, the bangboo they just purchased and customized. The Mockingbird had planned to add an additional bangboo, so that both Hugo and Vivian could have a partner bangboo whenever they had different tasks and had to split on a heist or mission. Seems like that plan was doomed now.
“Navigation module… What about his memory chip? The data?” the man weakly asked, thinking about the bangboo had reminded him of the most important thing: the data.
"It’s safe, Hugo. With it, we’re one step closer to exposing the Exaltist Plan." Her voice was meant to reassure, but then her expression tightened. "But I hate how you keep risking yourself for this kind of intel. You weren’t even supposed to be on a high-risk mission. What happened at the facility?"
Hugo let out a dry chuckle. "Everything has a price, dear Vivian. And... I didn’t mean to put myself in danger. I was completely hidden. They didn’t even know I was there."
The memory came rushing back; researchers in full panic, scrambling in a futile attempt to save themselves. Hugo had known something was wrong, then. He’d been preparing to flee through the vents when a surge of Ether energy erupted. The blast caught him before he could escape.
“I think something went wrong with their experiment. An ether-compressed fusion exploded. I don’t think any of the researchers survived. You could say I was just… unlucky. Wrong place, wrong time.”
The fire and etheric corruption spread like contamination. Hugo had overheard discussions of a project about mind-controlling a Sacrifice. These people had the mind control serum ready, and they were currently trying to make their own Sacrifices. Numerous people had become their… ‘donor’ to be turned into an etheric mutant. And the particular dormant sacrifice they had at the facility had the ability to manipulate space in cube-like formations, a trait linked to the donor’s peculiar obsession with Rubik’s Cubes.
So, while fleeing the cascading explosions, Hugo had risked everything to download critical data from a nearby terminal, extracting the project’s core information and the base formula for the subject’s abilities. He remembered passing the said data to Simon, setting up an automatic SOS signal implemented on every Mockingbird’s device, and urged the bangboo to get out of the hollow as soon as possible, before he lost consciousness.
Vivian and Robin had done well using that information and the formula to rescue him.
"I’m just glad you made it out alive," Vivian said, voice tight.
Hugo caught the sheen of unshed tears in the corner of her eyes. "Oh, don’t cry now, Vivian. I’m alright, aren’t I?" he said with a weak smile, trying to ease and soothe the upset young woman he considered his little sister.
"Yes— but you scared me! Your injuries, when I found you... You almost turned into an Ethereal, Hugo!" Vivian’s voice cracked, hugging Lord Phaeton’s plushies close to her chest. She also wore his Lord Phaethon pyjamas, now that Hugo realized. Her eyes were rimmed with fatigue, heavy bags beneath them. She’d likely been juggling her five part-time jobs while nursing him, and Hugo felt like he somehow failed her as an older brother-figure.
"I’m sorry I worried you."
“You better be. And we’re not continuing the plan until you recover.” She said, brushing off the frustration tears that had escaped.
“Now, let’s not be hasty. The plan is—”
“—on hold, and that’s final. You’re not leaving that bed until you’re healed.”
“Vivian—"
“Hugo.”
Hugo grimaced at the scolding tone. “…Alright, alright. I give up. I’ll behave."
She huffed, satisfied, and Hugo gave her a tired smile. Then, discomfort prickled at his scalp. Good lord, he must be filthy. He didn’t take a bath for the whole three days he was out of cold, didn’t he? Hugo combed through his long hair, but then his fingers caught something on the crown of his head.
“…?”
His fingers brush off something that didn’t feel like his hair. It was too short to be his hair, and too rough, too coarse in texture. He pulled it free and examined it.
Hugo was confused. Because here, resting in his palm, was something eerily resembling a fur. A canine one, from the texture and the length. Dog… no, this is a wolf.
A white wolf’s fur.
"What is it, Hugo?" Vivian asked. She tilted her head, clearly confused. “Is something the matter?”
But before Hugo could reply, or even question if there had been a dog, wolf, or Thiren nearby, a gust of night wind swept through the window, lifting the soft fur from his palm, carrying it toward the night sky. It quickly vanished into the dark.
Hugo stared after it, stunned.
The leader of the Mockingbird then shook his head as he let out a chuckle in disbelief. It was impossible, he could not believe his brain even entertained such an absurd idea.
“…No, it’s nothing. Maybe it’s just my imagination.”