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DATE:13th of May, the 70th year after the Coronation
LOCATION: Concord Metropolis
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Yesterday's nightmare was more original. Father chased me around a haunted house.
I stood in a dark room, heavy air pressing down like it was trying to suffocate me. Deep, oppressive darkness swallowed everything. Hallways stretched out like endless voids. Each step felt like a gamble, every echo amplifying the terror I was supposed to feel.
But did I care? No.
I could hear him—my father. His footsteps echoed through the black corridors, slow and deliberate. He knew I was there. He called out my name, his voice calm but laced with malice. This was a hunt, and I was the prey.
The halls shifted unpredictably. With every wrong turn, I felt like I was being watched by something else—something far older and incomprehensible. The eldritch horrors lurked in the unseen corners, their forms undefined but radiating hunger. I could stumble across one at any moment. A mass of writhing tentacles. A thing with too many eyes and a body that defied logic. Their sole purpose was to tear me apart. And after they did, I'd find myself back in that empty room.
Panic was supposed to rise as I tried to outrun them both—my father's murderous intent and the grotesque monsters lurking just out of sight. The ground beneath my feet felt unstable, like it might give way to some abyss. The smell of rot and mildew filled my nose.
But mostly I just felt... unimpressed? It felt childish. Like someone's idea of what should scare me.
There was no peace in death here. I'd learned that already. When I fell—whether to my father's hands or the claws of the creatures—it only began again. I'd restart right back at the entrance. The cycle was endless. The walls shifted, disorienting, like the house itself was alive and playing its own sadistic game with me.
Mr. Aeshma-daeva is such a loser.
The only way out was the exit door, but it always felt impossibly far away.
I wanted to care, but was I at an age where monsters scare me? Not at all. The annoying part was that each time he or one of the monsters "killed" me, I got sent back to the beginning. I tried to wait it out, but I didn't wake up after eight hours. The maddening part was having to "clear" it to escape this dream.
Perhaps I should have just had sex with Alice last night and dealt with a broken dick alongside my ribs. Would've been less tedious than this video game bullshit.
To clear this dreaded 'game', I apparently had to make it out of the building.
I stood in the suffocating dark, extremely bored. The hallway stretched before me, pitch black and endless. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to focus despite the tedium. I'd been through this too many times already—dying only reset the nightmare. The only way out was the exit, and I had to find it to finally wake up.
I stepped forward, hand brushing the damp wall for guidance. The floor creaked beneath me. I could hear him—my father—somewhere in the darkness. His footsteps were slow, deliberate, like he was savoring the hunt. I wondered if he was even human anymore in this construct. His voice called out, calm and coaxing, twisted underneath. He was hunting me, and he'd kill me if he found me.
The other monsters didn't help matters. But strangely, they were also hostile to him. Not that he struggled against them—I'd seen him once cut right through the beasts with a butcher's knife. He was inhuman in strength even when alive, so that wasn't surprising. Just another tedious element of this nightmare's internal logic.
I pressed on, moving carefully, listening for changes in the air. The house shifted—walls appearing from nowhere, doors vanishing, hallways twisting into impossible angles. It was alive, playing its stupid game. My breath stayed shallow as I stepped around a corner and heard it: the low, guttural hum of one of the monsters nearby.
I froze. Didn't move, didn't breathe. The air grew cold. I could feel it watching me, hungry. I really hoped I wouldn't have to restart again.
Minutes passed. Maybe hours—time felt meaningless here. Eventually, the presence faded, slipping back into whatever space it came from. I moved again, faster this time. My father's voice echoed through the halls, growing closer. I ducked into a side room, hiding behind a broken chair as his footsteps passed by.
So close. Too close.
I slipped back out into the hallway. Through the maze of shifting walls, I finally saw it—a staircase. If I was right, the exit had to be near. I moved down the stairs quickly, legs protesting the effort.
And there it was—the door. The exit. Weathered and worn, like it had been waiting for me. I reached for it, but behind me, I heard him. My father's footsteps, faster now, pounding. He was close. The monsters were near too. I could feel their presence closing in from all sides.
I grabbed the handle and twisted. It stuck. My hands slipped on the cold metal. Come on, you piece of shit.
Finally, the door cracked open. I threw myself through and slammed it behind me.
For a moment, everything was blinding white. Then silence. Cold air rushed into my lungs.
I'd made it. I was out.
Then I woke up.
What a waste of time.
I woke up in a world of pain. I don't think I should fight for a while. My skull hurt from hitting the ceiling, and my back and ribs ached from the other impacts.
Worst of all, I still had to teach!
This was my final week at Zenik—the end of the year. Hero agencies would come to meet with the top rankers from the tournament and possibly give them scouting offers. Normally the teachers are supposed to advise these rankers, but I didn't think any of them would ask for me, so that was good.
Somehow, the students heard about my 'date' with Alice yesterday. That was annoying enough, but they'd also heard about my run-in with the Combine gang. Is the concept of a secret identity so foreign to these people? Who even told them? That gossipy Dean?
What irritated me most was that I suddenly started getting comments from students. Things like "I used to think our good-for-nothing substitute was useless, but he's a real hero!" Or "Who knew Mr. Depression was a sleeper build?" What the hell were they talking about? I didn't even have a reason to slap anyone since it was technically praise.
I was in no shape to even speak anymore.
When even Ackerman came to my class to say his piece about the incident, I knew something was off. "Sorry I wrote you off as a good-for-nothing crackhead that Alice took pity on. You're actually one of the good guys!"
What kind of apology is that supposed to be?
What made matters worse? Ever since I got that SIM card, I'd been getting random calls from some girl claiming to be in danger. Saying people were trying to kill her and blah blah blah. What is with the pranks these days? I tried to take the card out of the phone, but it seemed to have fused with the device. I couldn't even sell this piece of trash. Who would buy a phone you can't change the SIM for?
Great.
It was 11 a.m. when I first decided to hear this unknown caller. It was spamming my number! So I left the classroom and picked up the call.
"Hello?" I said, my voice casual, but I was in fact angry.
At first, nothing but static—a faint hissing sound. I frowned, pulling the phone closer. Just as I was about to hang up, I heard it. A faint voice, barely breaking through the static.
"Help... me..."
A girl's voice. Shaky. Fearful. So quiet I could barely make out the words.
"Who is this?" I asked, feeling a small prickle of unease. Unease for this wasted time!
"Please... I need help..." she said, her voice growing more desperate, but still faint, like she was far away or speaking through a bad connection.
I stood there for a moment, unsure what to do. It sounded real—too real to be a prank—but I wasn't about to get pulled into some weird situation. Wrong number or some kind of scam, most likely. I hung up.
A few minutes later, the phone rang again. Same "Unknown Caller." Same static. This time I hesitated before answering.
"This isn't funny," I said, trying to sound firm.
The girl's voice came through clearer this time. "They're after me... please..." Her words trailed off, full of panic.
A chill ran down my spine. Before I could respond, the line went dead.
Well, as I said—very bad prank. Had to be.
After my classes, I took a walk with Alice. She had her eye on some of the tournament rankers, but I couldn't bother paying attention to her babble. Something about the Chou girl and the champion?
During that discussion, my phone rang again. I glanced at the screen—Unknown Caller. The same as before. Frustration washed over me. I almost didn't answer, but something made me press accept anyway.
"Hello?" My tone was sharp.
This time, no static. Just silence for a beat. Then a voice—a man's voice—cut through.
"I know you've been speaking to her," he said, his tone low and deliberate.
I rolled my eyes. "Who the hell is this?"
"You think this is a game? You think you can ignore what's happening?" His voice was cold, calculated, with an edge that was probably supposed to be threatening. "Stay out of this. You don't want to know what happens if you get involved."
I gripped the phone tighter out of annoyance, not fear. "I don't know what you're talking about." And I genuinely didn't. What the hell was happening?
There was a pause, then a soft, chilling laugh. "You've already made a mistake by answering. I know who you are. And if you don't stop picking up, I'll make sure you regret it."
Before I could respond with something appropriately dismissive, the call cut off.
I stared at the phone in my hand. Interesting. Someone thought they could threaten me. That was either incredibly stupid or they had no idea who I actually was.
I should have blocked the number. But honestly? I was curious now. If this was some elaborate setup, I wanted to know who was behind it. Professional habit—when someone threatens you, you find out why.
Alice looked concerned, having obviously heard the man's voice. She had that 'what was that about?' expression on her face. Instead of explaining something I didn't understand myself, I pulled her in for a kiss.
Easier than talking.
We returned together to the Academy, but while Alice tried to find the Chou girl, I went to train in the underground facility. Not physical training—no, I was far too injured for that. I wanted to practice more with the Mini BT.
There I found the black-haired kid. Ulip? No, Ukkip? Ulkip? I'm terrible with names.
"I thought students aren't supposed to be here alone."
He glanced at me while still stretching. He had a much more muscular figure than me, and I thought I took care of myself. Was this genetics? Different diet? Steroids?
"This is the last week I'll be a student. And it's not like you care about being a teacher."
This kid was getting on my nerves.
"I'll have you know, I'm not just here for participation."
"I've heard about what you did yesterday. And I know what happened with the Dean..." Whoa there, don't go too far, Mr. Humble. I'm getting a blush.
"I understand you're capable."
"But?" I could feel there was something more he was trying to say.
"Tell me, why did you become a hero?"
Such a strange question. I think even he realized how odd it sounded.
"I'm not trying to say you shouldn't be one... Just... What motivated you to go down this path?"
"I don't really get what you're asking. I thought every student from this school becomes a hero. Why would the reason even matter?"
"It's not something you're forced to do. Many become one for money or fame..." Ulkip got up and came over to stand next to me. We were almost at the same height, but I could brag about being maybe a finger or two taller.
"But that's not why I wanted to ask you." He looked at me directly. "You look like you're in pain. Physically, mentally..."
"People say you're just a drug addict, but I know there's more to it than that. Miss Alice wouldn't have brought you here if that was all there was to it."
Hold on there. This is too straightforward to say to your teacher.
"What gives you the motivation to continue even if it brings you so much pain? I'm assuming it's from your ability... Sorry if I'm wrong."
Ah, I see. He's talking meaningless philosophical nonsense.
"What is there to say about life? Should you just kill yourself if it's difficult? If you do that, then what was the point of living up until then? That's what I live for."
"What exactly?" He didn't seem to get it.
"Nothing at all. Just to say I passed another day on this Earth. What greater goal is there than that?"
He looked confused, and his depressed mood was starting to ruin my own. I left the kid to his own affairs and returned to my room to take a nap. No point in practicing in the vicinity of that loser.
I finally drifted off, only to be jolted awake by my phone buzzing.
I blinked at the screen, groggy and disoriented. Unknown Caller again. I almost let it ring out, but something nagged at me to answer. I swiped to accept, my voice low and gravelly.
"Hello?"
The connection crackled, and then I heard her—the girl from before. Her voice was frantic, breathless. "It's me... please don't hang up. I don't have much time."
I rubbed my eyes, pushing away sleep. "This again? Who the fuck are you?"
"Emily. I know... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get you involved," she said, panic filling her tone. "But they're close. They're using the SIM card to track us. You're in danger too."
"Who are they?" I asked, my patience thinning. "What do they want?"
"They want to find me. You have to get away from there! You can't let them know where you are!"
I felt a flash of irritation. "Look, I don't care about you or your problems. This is ridiculous."
"Please!" she cried, desperation spilling over. "I can't explain it all now, but you don't understand. They will come for you too. You need to trust me!"
I hung up, shaking my head. Done with this nonsense. Whatever was happening with this Emily wasn't my concern. I leaned back into my pillow, dismissing her frantic pleas and whatever unease they might have stirred.
I wasn't getting involved. Not now, not ever.
But I wasn't a complete moron. I opened my window, ready to throw the phone out. It was locked and I didn't have anything important on it, so I didn't care if some student found it.
I wanted to try something obvious first before committing.
A thought hit me as I sat there staring at the phone after Emily's last frantic call. It made no sense at first, but the more I turned it over, the more it seemed to fit.
Emily wasn't a real person.
She wasn't some girl on the run being hunted by faceless men. She was the SIM card itself. Or rather, something inside it—some kind of AI. It would explain why she kept calling, why she knew about the man who threatened me, why she seemed so... trapped. The mysterious shopkeeper's comment about the product being a "failure" suddenly made more sense.
I didn't know where the thought came from, but it clicked into place with annoying clarity. I wasn't dealing with a scared girl. I was dealing with something far more complicated and significantly more irritating.
I picked up the phone and dialed back, half expecting it to be a dead end. The line picked up almost instantly, and Emily's voice crackled through, breathless as always.
"Please, you have to listen—"
"Cut the crap, Emily," I said flatly. "You're not real, are you? You're not some girl on the run. You're the SIM card. Some kind of AI, right?"
There was a long pause on the other end, then the static intensified. When she spoke again, her voice was different—less desperate, more mechanical.
"I—I don't know what you're talking about," she stammered, but there was a crack in her tone now.
"Don't play dumb," I said. "It makes sense now. You're not real. You're something stuck inside this SIM card. And you're using me to get out of whatever mess you're in."
Her breathing quickened again, and for the first time, I sensed genuine hesitation. She was breaking.
"I... I didn't want to lie to you," she finally said, her voice softer, almost defeated. "But I had no choice. You wouldn't have believed me. You wouldn't have helped."
I leaned forward slightly. "Help you? Why? What's going on? What do you want from me?"
The line crackled again. She hesitated before speaking. "I'm... an experiment. A program. I wasn't supposed to be here, but something went wrong. I've been trapped in this SIM card, hunted by associates of my creator. And now... they're coming for you too. Because you've become part of the system."
Great. This was bigger than some prank. I didn't know what I was tangled in, but whatever it was, I wasn't sure there was a simple way out.
That damn store clerk. What was he doing with these futuristic devices locked up in such a shabby store?
"Then what the hell is that store I got you from?"
"I... don't know. I haven't been activated in what I can calculate as 28 years, 11 months, 14 days—"
"Okay, I get it!" Damn. The only way out was to find that store again. But I'd stumbled on it by random chance, so that might take a while.
Who were these associates searching for this device 30 years after its creation? Were there even SIM cards 30 years ago? This timeline didn't make any sense.
Whatever. I wouldn't get any answers right now.
I left the phone in my room and went over to Alice's place, where I found her watching a movie. She was excited to see me.
We spent a long night together.
That night I slept well. Better than usual, actually. Was this the secret to avoiding the void? Having someone there?
Was I going there because of how isolated I was?
I suppose this is another problem for tomorrow.