TL/ED: Hamsterminator

T.S. Eliot, the master of English literature, once said this:

Only those who risk going too far can find out how far one can go.

This aligns with the adage that only those who challenge can claim victory.

Jin's response to that was:

I'm not challenging shit!

BOOM─!!!

An ear-splitting explosion, and the world spun in circles.

When he came to, the ground was right in front of his face.

Dizzy as hell, he lifted his head. In his right hand was a torn piece of military uniform pants.

And far off in the distance, pink underwear. With fuzzy leg hair.

Ah, fuck.

Having inadvertently committed sexual harassment against the deceased, Jin hurled the pants away.

Even if it was an enemy, he didn't want to know the color of their underwear...

Wait. But pink though?

That was when it happened.

BOOM──!!

Another thunderous roar erupted.

Like the sound of snapping a wet towel hundreds of meters long through the air.

At this point it was basically a sonic attack. Jin grimaced and raised his hands to his ears, only to be struck by the shockwave that followed.

His body lifted off the ground.

Unable to break his fall properly, he tumbled across the ground before slamming headfirst into the wheel of a parked dump truck.

He slumped there limply, and only then did the status window smoothly fade from view, leaving behind the words (On Hold).

"Son of a..."

Too exhausted to even get angry, Jin just lifted his eyelids.

A battle of heaven-shaking proportions was unfolding ahead.

A wedge-shaped tornado connecting sky and earth collided with a massive sandstorm reminiscent of a tidal wave of yellow clay.

Corpses floated upward in reversed gravity, spinning at regular intervals in midair before slowly disintegrating into handfuls of blood spray.

Explosions burst, shockwaves flew, the ground flipped over.

Bullets piercing through darkness—he couldn't even tell what they were hitting.

And it wanted him to jump into that?

The absurdity of it all actually cheered him up, and Jin cackled.

You need to see an opening before you can even try.

This was a fight that would require betting his life even at full strength.

Right now, it was absolutely impossible.

150,000 experience points?

More than regret, he just felt incredulous.

He'd gotten 9,000 experience points from fighting Taha, so rough math put this at over sixteen times that amount.

Of course, whether the Face Collector was actually sixteen times stronger than Taha, he couldn't say.

He wasn't even sure if measuring strength through experience points made sense.

But one thing was certain: the Face Collector was a predator operating on an entirely different level than Taha.

Strong enough that the entire City Government Special Forces had to mobilize against him.

And so Jin emptied his mind.

He could barely twitch a finger, so he might as well just watch.

Got any popcorn?

Unfortunately, what flew at his face wasn't popcorn but concrete fragments spat up from the obliterated ground.

Ptoo ptoo! Jin spat out rock dust and just sprawled out flat.

Whatever. Do your worst.

Meanwhile, the tide of battle shifted once more.

The sandstorm vanished as if wiped clean, revealing the Face Collector wearing a new face.

As he slowly faded from view in midair, Q's voice rang out from somewhere.

"No. 08 Camouflage. Formation C. Prep concussion rounds."

Jin shook his head at that.

That head-shake was ten percent admiration for the operatives and ninety percent disbelief.

A different ability for every face he wore.

Wasn't that completely broken?

How's an ordinary guy like me supposed to compete?

As he grumbled to himself, the battle intensified.

The Face Collector switched faces moment to moment like a quick-change artist, and the operatives countered each transformation with tailored tactics.

At the epicenter of that chaotic destruction, someone finally stepped back.

Thud.

An arm hit the ground and was torn to shreds by a fierce waterspout.

Now one-armed, the Face Collector glanced down at his tattered shoulder stump and smiled faintly.

"Not bad, Colonel. Your skills are wasted at that rank."

Colonel John Harrison landed lightly on the ground and replied.

"The generals don't like the smell of booze on me. Something about not wanting to share a table with a drunkard."

"How unfortunate."

"So, you done showing off?"

"Hardly."

The Face Collector twisted his lips into a smile.

It was especially grotesque because the face he wore was that of a young boy, still showing traces of youth.

"So many faces catching my eye today. I'd love to peel them all off, but..."

Trailing off, he gazed up at the sky.

His eyes, gleaming with madness, swept across the ceiling of the world.

Then came the quiet follow-up.

"I'll call it here for today."

The next moment, the face that slowly settled into place was unfamiliar.

A haggard woman's face, with dark shadows under her eyes as if plagued by chronic exhaustion. The Colonel's shoulders flinched.

For the first time, his perpetually composed expression hardened.

Q, pulling himself up from where he'd been half-buried in the ground, reacted the same way.

"...Thea Florence?"

An unnumbered name scattered into the air with stunned disbelief. The woman opened her mouth.

"Consider it an honor. This is the first time I'm debuting this face."

The face had a chilling smile.

And then her voice continued.

"Come forth. Fire Spirit."

The next moment.

Ripples formed in the empty air behind her.

Infinite concentric circles spreading from a single point.

It was a wave that created something from nothing, a passage connect⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌ing different worlds.

From within it, a giant arm wreathed in flames swung out and slammed into the Colonel.

A speed absurdly fast given its size and mass.

At the same time, the Face Collector slowly moved her lips.

"Āgni"

GROOOOOH!!

As if in answer, something let out a tremendous roar and thrust its massive arm skyward.

The clenched fist gathered an enormous amount of heat, and Q shouted urgently.

"Cryo rounds!"

But the condensed mass of flame struck the ground faster than any bullet could fly.

─────!!

The insane physical force was enough to lift Jin's body into the air despite being so far away, and the air in the entire area evaporated.

An overwhelming heatwave spread outward in a dome shape, devouring everything within it.

BANG!

The Colonel, breaking the sound barrier, snatched Jin out of midair.

The tremendous speed made his skin ripple in waves, and the surroundings changed in an instant.

"Gak!"

When he came to, Jin found himself standing in an unfamiliar place.

Still dazed, he looked at the Colonel, who was setting down Q from his other arm.

"Goddammit."

The Colonel wrinkled his nose as he stared at the massive pillar of fire shooting into the sky.

Jin, sharing the same view, thought to himself.

...They let him get away, didn't they?

I knew this would happen.

I could tell from the moment the experience points hit 150,000.

Nodding to himself like some enlightened sage who had grasped the ways of the world, Jin poked the shell-shocked Q in the side.

"...Want to catch him together next time?"

No answer came.

*

District 40s had always been a shithole.

No competition over who had it worse.

A parade of equally terrible sewers where ranking them was pointless.

But the past few years had been different.

A few districts had emerged that could proudly claim to be the most fucked.

One of them was Mute Town.

The incident started as a power struggle between several gangs. A petty squabble that looked like nothing more than a dick-measuring contest—who could have predicted it would grow into a wildfire engulfing the entire city?

Fights that drag on tend to warp their original purpose.

What started as trivial competition over who could squeeze out more protection money eventually escalated into a full-scale gang war to determine the ruler of Mute Town.

Yes, a war.

How many people must have died?

If it were just the gang bastards pulling triggers over territory, that would be one thing.

But uninvolved people got hit by stray bullets, stabbed, violated, made targets of cruel catharsis.

Back then, calling Mute Town hell was exactly right.

Around the same time.

Something resembling a vigilante group formed in this godforsaken city.

A group of people who declared: since no one else will protect us, we'll protect ourselves!

A cradle for those who had lost loved ones, health, and futures to the gangs.

Perhaps it was hope blooming in the gutter.

Five years passed.

The long war finally ended.

If that had been a happy ending, it would have been joyous.

But what awaited Mute Town was an even greater despair. What came after the war wasn't peace, but the rising warlord faction, TB.

From that day on, the vigilantes became the Resistance.

Nothing really changed.

Whatever they were called, they did the same thing.

Protecting themselves from those bastards who treat human life like garbage.

That was all.

Another year passed.

Unfortunately, the situation gradually grew desperate.

Their stronghold fell, and their strongest comrade had his skull crushed.

The Resistance, which had barely held on until now, was finished. Everyone was making that cold assessment in private.

Then, out of nowhere.

Really, completely out of nowhere.

News that Taha had been killed by some strike team shook all of Mute Town.

Ten days had passed since then.

*

"...Hey, Jin? Are you asleep?"

Someone's voice wormed into his ear.

Perhaps because they felt bad about waking him from a deep sleep, the voice was quite cautious.

So Jin ignored it.

If you feel ba⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌d, just leave.

"...He's not waking up?"

"Move aside."

The next one was rougher.

Lightly tapping and even shaking his shoulder.

Jin did his best to ignore that too.

Until a flashlight clicked on right in front of his face.

"......!!"

He could ignore everything else, but not this.

Flashlight assault on a sleeping man's face?

That was a trigger for any Korean man who'd served his military duty.

Guard duty? Time for your shift change...

"Who the fuck!"

Jin finally opened his eyes.

He clenched his fist, ready to throw a punch.

Only then did the person holding the flashlight turn it off.

"You're awake."

"Goddammit. What kind of inconsiderate..."

Even half-asleep, Jin realized the person in front of him was Albus.

And the faces visible behind him...

Grace, Fenrir, and who was that again? That guy.

"Ahjussi?"

"...It's Felix."

"Ah. Right, that was the name."

Jin awkwardly scratched the back of his head.

That made it kind of awkward to stay angry.

He let out a deep sigh befor⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌e speaking.

"Why are you waking someone who's sleeping?"

"Just follow me."

Jin followed as Albus gestured with his chin, the rest of the group falling into step. Having watched them blankly, Jin hauled himself up with a disheveled appearance.

What's this about in the middle of the night?

Grumbling internally as he walked, it wasn't long before he arrived at a familiar rest area and swallowed empty air.

The space was gently lit with small mood lights, and piled high with food.

Most of it was canned goods or military rations, but.

So what? Jin wasn't picky about that kind of thing.

"You're going back to Downtown tomorrow, right? We need to have a farewell party."

Albus clapped him on the shoulder and waved at the others.

"Let's sit wherever. Just keep it down."

The group settled around the table.

Jin ended up in the middle seat somehow, looking at the feast spread across the table.

"The City Government guys gave you all this?"

"As if. We swiped it."

At Albus's answer, Felix clicked his tongue.

"...This is the problem with depending on others. Having to watch our step even over food."

"It's something we have to endure. It's true that thanks to them, we were able to get proper medical treatment."

Grace added cautiously. Fenrir, who had been silent until then, also spoke up.

"Let's just eat."

"Yeah, let's."

Delighted to hear that, Jin immediately cracked open a can.

And straight into his mouth!

As he chomped on processed meat with his cheeks puffed out, he naturally woke up and found some peace of mind.

Feeling better, Jin looked around.

"Where's Den?"

"He's still not well enough to eat."

Albus said that as he brought chocolate to his mouth.

Jin nodded.

Den had suffered severe internal damage from a high-explosive grenade.

It was lucky that some of his organs were cyberware prosthetics.

Otherwise, he would have definitely died.

Even so, he'd been unconscious until two days ago when he finally came to.

"Well, we can eat together next time."

Jin cracked open a second can.

Pineapple slices.

It was a ra⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌re treat around here.

During the past days when the group had been stuck as patients, they'd had to survive on rations provided by the City Government.

As he fished out the syrup-soaked fruit pieces one by one, Jin suddenly looked around.

And realized.

It wasn't just Den who was missing. One more person was absent.

Ossia.

The woman who had fallen from the third floor with the frog beastkin hadn't survived.

She'd killed the beastkin she fell with, but apparently couldn't handle the forces that swarmed in after hearing the commotion.

It had happened before the fighting even turned into a full melee, so she must have stood out more.

Having only one casualty in an operation with a success rate approaching zero was an incredible achievement, but how could anyone call it "only" one?

The empty seat just felt larger.

And so Jin made a big decision.

Instead of cola, he poured alcohol to the brim in the glass before him.

Having spent ten days together, everyone who knew his eating habits looked surprised.

He lifted the glass, liquid threatening to spill over the rim.

"To Ossia."

The group's expressions grew complicated.

But only for a moment.

Soon, one by one, they filled their glasses and raised their arms.

"To Os⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌sia."

Five glasses clinked together in the air with a clear sound.

For Jin, it was his first drink in a year and several months.

After he'd quenched his thirst with abandoned hard liquor in the past, only to suffer from the intensified hunger, he'd sworn never to drink again.

I really wasn't going to drink anymore.

Ah, whatever.

Having made up his mind, Jin knocked back the shot.

"Khaack."

The burning sensation made his face scrunch up involuntarily.

A bonus realization of what his insides looked like.

Meanwhile, the group finished their brief memorial and began conversing in a subdued atmosphere.

Starting with the good news that TB was beginning to collapse.

Gossip about how the City Government operatives who'd let the Face Collector escape had been wearing shit-eating expressions for ten straight days.

And then their exploits at Flat Iron.

Stories connected by commas rather than periods.

Jin was most passionate when talking about his own heroics.

Who am I? The man who personally tested the Faust's performance with his own body.

His terminal got smashed again because of it, sure.

But with the exo-skeleton wrecked too, that couldn't be helped.

Oh, speaking of which, if I hadn't stopped those reinforcements, you'd all be corpses right now. Seriously.

It was a questionable claim.

Without even getting technical about it, the one who dealt with the reinforcements was Taha in his berserker state.

But whatever.

I'm the one who took down that Taha.

And so, while Jin was busy gilding his own face with praise.

Albus flinched.

It was because he suddenly remembered how Jin had appeared in a flash right when he fired the Faust.

Thinking he'd sacrificed a comrade, how much had he blamed himself?

He'd barely clung to life instead of dying right away, wallowing on his guilt, only to be miraculously rescued. Even now, thinking about it felt absurd.

...Wait, did things actually work out in the end?

Just as Albus's expression grew complicated.

"I was also blocking people from getting to the 13th floor..."

Fenrir joined in with his own contributions.

Seemed like he had his own long, detailed story to tell.

But regardless, Jin let the rest of his words go in one ear and out the other.

Not because he didn't want to hear it, but because in Jin's view, Fenrir was someone who should naturally be doing at least that much.

This is all because I trust you that muuuaaawwn.

"This bastard, yawning in my face is one thing, but..."

A vein bulged on the beastkin's forehead, and the others chuckled softly.

"Alright, alright, one more round."

Someone called for a toast before the mood could turn ugly.

Clink. Glasses met once more.

Borrowing the night, the conversations deepened.

How much time had passed?

The mountain of food had dwindled to nothing.

When stories started repeating themselves.

The group finished cleaning up, waved their hands, and naturally dispersed.

With a brief goodnight.

Jin returned to his designated spot.

A corner of the hallway where people rarely passed.

He leaned his back against the wall and crossed his arms.

And muttered quietly.

"...This is dangerous."

The loneliness that had clung to his skin until it became natural seemed to have melted away, just a little, in this moment.

A faint warmth rising in his chest.

This couldn't go any further. He harbored the intention to escape this world someday. All the more reason.

"...This is when you're supposed to show up. Bastard. Let me see your face so I can snap back to my senses."

Jin muttered to himself and closed his eyes.

And the next day.

As Jin was leaving, the Colonel offered 100 million.