"Y'know, Grandpa… you're insane," Sumei muttered, still visibly shaken.
Mana, calming down as her eyes scanned the now-serene glow of F.C.H., added, "VR just… updated itself again…"
"We're done here for now," Evan said, turning. "Let's head back."
"A-Alright! Wait for me, Mr. Evan!" Mana squeaked, grabbing Sumei by the sleeve and dragging her along.
Once they reached Mana's battered home—a wire-choked forest of scrap and overgrowth—the sliding door opened with a soft hiss.
Inside, Mana's loft flickered with low, ambient light. Half-laboratory, half-urban jungle, her sanctuary pulsed with both warmth and disarray. Evan stepped in first, still gripping the Joker card between two fingers as if it might bite.
Sumei followed, hoodie half over her face, carrying a bundle of instant noodles. Mana immediately started muttering code at her console.
"Home sweet—" Mana began.
Then the card pulsed.
A deep hum echoed through the room like a broken modem groaning to life.
"Quite the cozy place you've got here," came a smooth, sardonic voice from the air—sounding far too pleased with itself.
Thwack.
Sumei jumped, nearly tossing the noodles. "What the hell—?!"
Mana recoiled, glaring at the card like it had insulted her source code.
"I knew it was haunted," she hissed, whirling on Evan. "Why the hell did you bring that into my—"
[50,000,000 IPs have been transferred to your profile.]
Mana's voice cut off instantly.
She turned back with a mechanical smile. "—I-I mean, why pick something out on your own, sir~? You could've asked me~!"
"That tone was unnecessary," Evan replied flatly. "I gave you the points because I promised. Not because I like your hospitality"
He flicked the card into the air. It hovered.
The Joker floated, then pulsed again.
"Man, you really know how to handle a women, huh?" Daemon's voice teased.
"You can still talk?" Sumei asked, frowning.
"Of course I can. We share consciousness now, remember? I'm not dead. Something conceptual like me doesn't just disappear."
"Yet you were still trapped in a VR game," Evan said dryly, jabbing at Daemon's pride.
"H-Hey! There are layers to this, okay?! Even beings like me can be bound. You don't know the first damn thing about what I am."
"Don't care. Keep it short."
"You're a rude bastard, y'know that?" Daemonsnapped. "Fine. I'm a spirit. Like I said. But not your usual afterlife-baggage kind. There are three kinds of us: evil spirits who go to Hell, good ones who move on… and our kind."
"Our kind?" Sumei tilted her head.
"The outliers," Daemon continued. "Spirits who don't fit in either heaven or hell. We exist between the lines. Unclaimed by either side. Stuck in the void of duality."
Evan stayed silent. Sumei leaned in, more curious than cautious now. Mana stood beside them, still grinning and swaying happily from her recent points dump.
"Spirits like me? We're rare. One in a trillion rare. Honestly, if it weren't for the Taboo, we'd have broken reality a long time ago."
"Taboo?" Sumei blinked. "Like… a curse?"
"More like a sacred law," Daemon said. "An oath etched into the very rules of existence. Even we have limits. No matter how strong, we can't breach that boundary."
"But why agree to it at all?" she asked. "If you're that powerful?"
"There's always a bigger fish," Daemonmuttered. "Some say it's divine. Maybe a god. Maybe something else. I don't know. Trying to trace its origin is like trying to find the edge of spacetime. Even I don't understand it."
"So… God?" Sumei asked again.
"Maybe. Or maybe gods exist because people believe in them. Chicken and egg situation."
"Still," she frowned, "if you're that strong… why does your domain glitch so much? You looked like you had full control in there, but clearly, you want to leave. What's stopping you from just… taking over everything?"
"Like I said—the Taboo. It's not just a rule. It's a barrier. Spirits like me can't manifest freely in your world. But contracts with humans? That's our loophole. It lets us interact with reality—without breaking the law."
"So the Taboo is like a wall," Sumei mused, "and contracts are windows."
"Exactly." Daemon sounded almost impressed.
"But if you did manage to take over Evan's body someday," she added, "what would you actually do?"
Evan turned toward the card. "Yeah. What's the plan? World domination?"
Daemon went quiet.
"…Yeah. Probably take over the world."
"…That's it?" Sumei blinked. "No evil laugh? No villain speech?"
"Sounds corny to me," Evan said.
"Exactly!" Daemon snorted. "I'll leave that to the amateurs."
His voice dropped slightly, more thoughtful now.
"Until then… I'll enjoy the ride."
The Joker card spun in the air once more, then slowly drifted back into Evan's coat pocket.
Silence fell.
Sumei exhaled.
"…Hey, Grandpa. I don't know why, but… he doesn't feel as evil as I thought he'd be."
"Your nose is a mystery." Evan muttered.
"It's genetics. Probably."
"Of course it is," he replied, completely deadpan.
She puffed her cheeks and turned away, muttering under her breath.
Mana finally spoke again, pulling herself from her console haze.
"So… what's next?"
Evan stared ahead, eyes distant.
"…Find that person. 'Mithra677.'"
"You really think they're still alive?"
"No idea," he said, voice quiet. "But if they are… they might be the key to unlocking the truth. Maybe even my memories. Especially about that incident."
"Mana," Evan called.
She flinched—not out of fear, but from excitement.
"Y-yes? What do you want me to do, good sir?" she asked, still slightly flustered.
"First of all, stop acting like that. Second, you have that info about Mithra677, so keep helping me and I'll keep feeding you more." His tone was flat, but serious.
Mana quickly nodded, dreamy-eyed but fully registering the weight behind his words.
"Got it. You can trust me, Mr. Evan."
---
— Morrin's Sanctuary —
Negative was already sketching another intricate symbol across the floor.
Morrin sipped lazily from a crystalline bottle, half-sprawled on a velvet couch like they were on vacation. Iris stood nearby, arms crossed, ever the sentinel.
"So…" Iris began, voice cool as ever. "What exactly is this circle for now? I already have a contract. Why bother with another?"
"It's not about that, butterfly," Negative responded without looking up.
"I'm no butterfly, four-eyes." Iris shot back without hesitation.
Negative adjusted his glasses. Not offended. Morrin chuckled.
"Careful there, Iris," she murmured playfully.
"…"
"This one's a backup plan," Negative said, breaking the silence before it became oppressive.
Iris turned to Morrin, walking over slowly. Morrin didn't move—just leaned back deeper into the cushions, still drinking like nothing mattered.
"Aren't we supposed to be chasing those summoners from earlier?" Iris asked, arms folded.
"We are," Morrin said without pause. "But let Negative do his thing. I already found their base while I was changing my underwear, thanks to that dead baldy memories, so it won't be hard to storm them. Not when we've got you, Vale."
Iris stayed quiet for a moment.
"Don't you think you're being a little overconfident? What if they know we've found them—or worse?"
"Even if they do, they can't reach us. My sanctuary is entirely cut off from the world layers. I told you." Morrin took another sip.
The liquor slid down her throat and spilled—intentionally—along her cleavage. Iris's eyes narrowed. The tattoos on Morrin's skin moved, absorbing the liquid in a strangely graceful, almost predatory fashion. It was eerie… yet majestic.
"…Whatever." Iris muttered, turning away and taking a seat.
---
— One Hour Later —
"Alright, I'm done. Morrin, are the coordinates ready?"
Morrin set down her glass and slid on her jacket.
"Indeed~ Weapons too."
She winked. Iris didn't even glance.
Negative stood. "Get inside the circle. You'll have ten minutes. Maximum. Got it?"
"Got it."
"Gotcha~"
"Then let's begin the test."
Iris paused. "…Test?"
"Indeed. I'm seeing whether this teleportation spell, combined with a wormhole array, can attach to a different pocket dimension like ours."
Realization dawned. They were test subjects. Iris clenched her fists—but it was too late.
A circle of violet runes pulsed beneath their feet. With a flash—and a whisper-pop—they vanished into prismatic haze.
Negative stared at the monitors.
"…Success. Good, I guess."
---
— Unknown Alley, Junkyard —
It smelled of scorched rubber and rusted metal.
Iris's hands snapped around Morrin's throat.
"What the hell do you think this is? You think I'm some lab rat for you to experiment on?! What was your so-called brother thinking?"
"Jeez, calm down. He was messing with you," Morrin said far too casually. But that was Morrin—never shaken, just endlessly smug.
"You're joking?" Iris hissed. Still gripping her neck.
"I'm saying…negative never fails when it comes to trying something new," she said, confident as ever. Her belief in Negative was unshakable—enough to make Iris briefly wonder if she was the one overreacting.
Before they could continue, they weren't alone anymore.
Dozens of bald figures began to emerge from behind metal heaps—dressed in loose white suits, their skin pale and eyes black as soot. All of them bore the same x with three slashes line tattoo near their cheekbones.
Morrin's grin widened.
"Looks like we've got company~"
Iris didn't even blink.
"Perfect. Let me take my frustration out on these dummies."
A whirring click—her bracelet pulsed and expanded into a brand-new scythe: black blade with golden-white stripes, gleaming with menace.
"Oh, you definitely can," Morrin stretched, feline and elegant. "But be quick."
"Why's that?"
Morrin pointed upward.
A tall figure stood on a tower of junk, cloaked in matte-black. No skin was visible. Dual pistols in his hands, and a long blade sheathed at his waist.
"Traditional weapons… the last things that still mean something to a human. Be careful…"
Morrin's smile sharpened.
"We've got a real match coming up, Iris Vale~"