Ah... right. Sounds... efficient," he stammered, diverting his eyes as if the doorknob had suddenly become the most fascinating object in the universe.
Lyra arched a brow, clearly amused by his reaction, but said nothing. As she passed him, she gave a soft pat on his back, like calming a nervous animal, and stepped into the bathroom.
"I'll leave a change of clothes. But just wear the bottom part," she instructed, her tone hovering between professional and authoritative as she turned on the light. "Then I'm going to check those injuries on your ribs and back."
She approached a touch screen embedded in the wall beside the shower capsule and tapped a few commands. A faint hum confirmed the system was now set.
Eiden watched as she placed her backpack on a wall-mounted metal hook—the same one she had carried all the way from Kurosei.
"Is that...?" he began to ask, but stopped himself. Better not say it out loud. Lyra thought of everything. Always one step ahead.
"Don't take too long. I'm using the bathroom in my room. When you're done, come upstairs and let me know," she added before vanishing down the hall with steady steps.
Once he heard her ascend the stairs, Eiden let out a long sigh, as if deflating.
They had only been together for a few hours, and already his world felt like it had flipped on its axis.
He closed the door and leaned his forehead against it.
"Idiot," he murmured to himself.
He turned toward the mirror. What he saw left him speechless.
His reflection looked like a worn-down version of himself, nearly unrecognizable. His already messy hair was now a tangled mess hardened by dried blood and dust.
His face was scratched, with a dark bruise on his right cheekbone, and coated in a layer of sweat and grime that made him look like a wrecked version of himself.
His eyes, red from fatigue, were sunken into dark circles that gave him the air of a creature newly escaped from the abyss. Though he smiled at the memory of being dubbed the "Beet Warrior."
He didn't blame little Zampe for thinking he was weak in this state.
Wasting no more time, he undressed in fast, almost angry movements. Seeing his body confirmed how beaten he really was.
Bruises in various shades covered his torso and limbs. Small cuts, scrapes, and the worst injury: a torn-up area on his back, where the skin had been punctured in multiple places.
Right where the chair's restraints had embedded themselves.
He remembered how Lyra had pulled them out without hesitation. She'd freed him. But the cost was a map of wounds.
He looked at himself in the mirror again and activated his ocular implant. A luminous reticle appeared in his vision, scanning his body. The data flashed in front of him like a militarized medical report:
[Name: Eiden Novastrider]
[Age: 19 years]
[Sex: M]
[Bio: DATA CORRUPTED]
[Status: Wanted for Interrogation]
[Location: DATA CORRUPTED]
[Classification: HIGHLY DANGEROUS]
(Would you like to view neural software data? [Y | N])
Eiden lowered his gaze with resignation. Criminal. Fugitive. Marked as "highly dangerous."
Fine. Let them come. Let someone be bold enough to try. With luck, he could use the opportunity to reach another virtualization center.
He raised his left arm, examining the black bracelet like it was a living extension of his skin. The branching had spread. The dark tendrils crept slowly toward his elbow, like black roots seeking new ground.
He tapped the cracked interface crystal a few times.
Only got a few color glitches and a fading spark in response. The Black Blade had gone dormant. As always, after use, it shut down for hours.
Without further thought, he stepped into the shower capsule. The door opened automatically with a faint hiss and closed behind him the moment he was inside.
Another screen lit up with a simple interface. He tapped "Start," and the system came to life.
Water fell from a ceiling panel full of tiny holes, perfectly tempered.
Some nozzles began releasing a foamy soap with a citrus scent and mineral oil. At his feet, he watched as the mix of foam, blood, and dirt swirled into a spiral, dragging the past down the drain.
In the second phase, water also burst from the rear wall, hitting his wounds directly.
Eiden braced both hands against the front wall, letting the stream wash over his back. The dried blood peeled off little by little, blending with the steam. He closed his eyes.
The shower turned out more relaxing than expected. When it ended, the drying phase began. Eyes still closed, he let himself be enveloped in a warm gust of air that left him completely dry in under a minute.
He stepped out and took the backpack from the hook, opening it.
Inside was a pristine black outfit—clearly tactical in design, with an unmistakable urban flair.
A pair of reinforced boots with metallic accents, elastic cargo pants with magnetic pockets and turquoise neon lines, a tight base layer made of microfiber, and a multifunctional hooded jacket matching the pants' turquoise contours.
And finally—though oddly the most surprising—underwear. He froze for a second.
The whole outfit looked like it belonged to an elite infiltration squad but with careful aesthetic—functional, tasteful, resilient, elegant, discreet.
Too exact to be a coincidence. Was Lyra sending a message?
As instructed, he only wore the bottom half. His torso remained bare, ready for the "examination" she had mentioned.
In front of the mirror, he ran his hand beneath the frame, activating a hidden opening mechanism. A small compartment emerged with basic hygiene items.
There wasn't much, but he found a hair cream, which he used to bring some shape back to his hair. Its natural waves gave him a laid-back, slightly rebellious look—with a touch of intentional style.
He felt a bit ridiculous taking longer than necessary... but couldn't help wanting to make a better second impression on Lyra.
He glanced back at the pile of dirty clothes on the floor: the torn pants, the borrowed jacket, the boots caked in dry mud. He rummaged through them until he found a small dented metal box in one of the side pockets. Carefully, he opened it.
Inside were his earrings and piercings.
He began putting them on with mechanical, precise movements.
On his left ear, he had three thin black piercings with chrome edges. One on the upper cartilage, another on the conch, and a third on the lobe—the last one thicker, with a small translucent core that flickered faintly when activated.
It was more than decoration: a passive tactile sensor, able to detect nearby vibrations and send silent alerts straight to his neural implant. Discreet, but useful in the underlevels.
His right ear bore two simple circular earrings, made of black alloy, with a nearly invisible engraving: her name—a remnant of a past that no longer existed. They held no function, but they did hold meaning.
Looking into the mirror again, he no longer looked like the same boy who had staggered into the bathroom. He was still wounded, yes. But beneath the bruises and scars, he was starting to reclaim himself.
After a moment of hesitation, Eiden left the bathroom and began climbing the stairs.
The whole situation felt absurd.
There he was, shirtless, heading toward the bedroom of a girl he had only known for a day... to be examined. What kind of scene was this?
Upon reaching the second floor, he found a shorter hallway with three doors aligned. One of them had to be Lyra's. But which? He had no idea.
"I'm here," he announced cautiously, waiting for some signal.
"Come in," replied Lyra's voice from the only door to his right.
He sighed, knocked twice softly, turned the doorknob, and entered somewhat hesitantly.
"Excuse me," he murmured as he crossed the threshold.
"You took your time," Lyra commented, sitting on the bed with a towel in her hands.
What he saw next left him momentarily speechless.
Lyra wore pajama shorts shorter than usual, leaving most of her thighs exposed. On her right leg, a fire dragon tattooed in phosphorescent ink spiraled upward, wrapped in multicolored flames that seemed to pulse with a light of their own.
Above, only a black sports top revealed her toned abdomen. A mix of strength and sensuality that Eiden didn't know how to process.
"I can… come back later if you're not ready yet," he said, awkwardly averting his gaze.
"What are you talking about? We've already wasted enough time. Come here," she ordered, patting the empty space beside her on the bed.
Eiden hesitated. He didn't know whether Lyra was completely unfazed by her current appearance or if she simply enjoyed his confusion. Maybe both.
While he pondered what to do, his gaze lingered on her… this time, unable to avoid it.
"Are you going to keep staring until you're satisfied, or are you coming over already?" Lyra snapped, her tone as impatient as ever.
She knew exactly what she was doing.
"I—I wasn't… I'd never think…!" Eiden stammered, blushing all the way to his ears.
Lyra smiled with a teasing glint in her eyes.
"Just come. And let's stop wasting time, alright?"
He nodded, composed his expression, and walked to the bed to sit beside her.
"Turn around," she ordered bluntly.
Eiden obeyed. She opened a small black carbon-fiber case. Inside was compact medical equipment. She took out a device that looked like an industrial-designed chrome pen.
"Let's close up these wounds first," she murmured, approaching. "Mmm… I need to remove some copper fragments embedded in there."
With a pair of magnetic-tipped tweezers, she began to work with surgical precision. She leaned in so close her thighs lightly brushed against Eiden's. Her warm hand rested on his bare back, and every time she adjusted for a better angle, her breath grazed his skin.
Eiden held his breath. He felt every tug, every fragment pulled out, but also every brush of Lyra's hand—a strange contrast that rattled him.
"How bad does it look?" he asked after a thick silence.
"Almost done," she replied softly.
She activated the chrome pen, which emitted a narrow, bright laser beam. On contact, the wounds cauterized instantly with a soft hiss and bluish glow. She then applied a translucent ointment and covered each spot with smart gauze that adhered directly to the skin without needing bandages.
"I think aside from that, it's just bruises… and maybe a couple broken ribs," Eiden commented, as if it were nothing.
Lyra raised an eyebrow but said nothing, focused on her task. Though she didn't say it aloud, she admired Eiden's ability to downplay the pain.
After a few minutes, Lyra stood up and motioned for Eiden to do the same.
In her hands was a thin frame, similar to a tablet, which activated with a soft hum, displaying a burgundy-toned holographic screen. Sliding it over Eiden's abdomen and sides, a semi-transparent projection showed internal injuries in real time: fractures, inflamed tissue, deep contusions.
They stood facing each other. She briefly looked into his eyes before focusing back on the device. Her cool fingers began to gently press the spots highlighted in the hologram. Eiden held his breath—not because of the pain, but because of how close she was.
"Were you some kind of soldier or agent?" Lyra asked, slowly sliding the scanner across his chest and ribs, stopping in certain areas to examine further.
Eiden swallowed hard, struggling to stay composed as the subtle scent of her hair filled his senses.
"Something like that," he replied quietly.
"Aren't you a bit too young?" she added, arching an eyebrow as she glanced sideways at him.
"I could say the same, 'Great Vesper'," Eiden replied with a faint smile.
Lyra deliberately pressed one of his broken ribs.
"Ow!" he gasped, wincing.
"Looks like you'll live," she said, packing the device and tools back into the carbon-fiber case.
"Thanks, doctor," he joked.
"Uh-huh. Maybe you need a punch to stop acting so smug," she replied, unable to hide a smile.
They were locked in that constant push and pull, loaded with irony and barely concealed tension. And though Eiden smiled, something deep inside him stirred with a quiet ache.
Suddenly, the bracelet on his left arm activated with a violent jolt.
A guttural, furious voice roared in his mind:
"I'll rip off her face!"
The pain made him double over with a stifled cry. The black tendrils tensed like living roots, and a turquoise light pulsed within the tentacles with every heartbeat. The bracelet was awake. And enraged.
"Eiden!" Lyra rushed to him, trying to examine his arm.
"No… I'm fine! Don't touch it!" he shouted, one knee hitting the floor.
The black strap squeezed like a viper, pulsing with contained fury.
Erratic lights flickered beneath his skin.
"That thing's destroying you. We need to do something," Lyra said urgently, running to a wall cabinet. She grabbed her plasma knife—the same one she had used the night before.
"No! It's okay…" Eiden gasped, eyeing the weapon with concern. "It happens sometimes… If you get too close with that, it'll defend itself. And we don't want that."
Lyra froze, still holding the knife. She was angry, worried… and frustrated.
Eiden knew it. It was a defense reaction from the bracelet. A primitive way of marking territory.
"What exactly is that thing?" she asked, frowning, her voice now much more tense.
He looked up from the floor. Even through grimaces of pain, he smiled with a touch of cynicism. He brought the ocular implant screen to his lips and murmured something unintelligible to the bracelet, as if trying to soothe a sleeping beast.
Lyra narrowed her eyes.
"I asked you a question. And it's not funny anymore," she said, hand tightening around the knife's handle.
"You'll know… when I know everything about you too," Eiden finally replied, slowly standing up. The bracelet was beginning to calm, as if responding to his tone.
"Right! As if you're in any position to demand anything from me."
"I'm sorry," he said, stepping toward her, still panting from the pain. "I didn't mean to sound arrogant. I just… I want to know you, Lyra. And I'm willing to trust you."
The words hung in the air for a few seconds.
She looked at him closely. Eiden noticed a faint blush spreading across her cheeks, but this time, she didn't hide it. She held his gaze like she had on the train that first night. In that silence, more was said than most could ever understand.
"You'll answer everything I ask you," she finally said. Her voice was firm, but carried a sweetness she didn't bother to disguise.
"I promise," Eiden affirmed. That decision had been made a long time ago.
He didn't fully trust her yet, but he did believe in her intentions. From the moment he saw her throw herself in harm's way to protect him without hesitation, he had realized Lyra wasn't like the others.
"Now go. I need to get ready," she said, turning toward the wardrobe as she stored the plasma knife.
Eiden nodded and headed for the door.
Just before stepping out, he couldn't help but glance over his shoulder one last time.
Lyra was on her tiptoes, reaching for some clothes hanging high up.
Despite feeling a bit guilty, he knew he'd never forget that image.
************************************
He had been ready for about fifteen minutes, time he used to cautiously explore the apartment's main room.
At first glance, the place looked minimalist and functional, with a distinct industrial design.
The air felt saturated with an artificial calm, almost like a lab. Everything was arranged with surgical precision—but it wasn't the absence of clutter that stood out. It was more that Lyra clearly didn't spend much time at home.
There was a dark grey modular couch, a coffee table with an opaque glass surface and tactile controls, and a single armchair with worn synthetic leather edges, as if it had been used repeatedly by the same person.
Draped over the back was a handmade woven blanket with an abstract pattern in dark tones, broken only by a small stitched symbol in one corner: a circular emblem with three curved lines intertwining in a spiral.
Eiden studied it closely, but didn't recognize it.
Other similar symbols were laser-etched into some devices, and one more was branded into a small wooden box on a shelf. All of them seemed to belong to the same system—a hidden language of sorts.
On a floating shelf, he found something that made him smile unexpectedly: a collectible figure of Slippery Boy, a tiny robotic fox with oversized ears and big eyes, holding a little lantern with a determined look. The faint holographic shimmer on its surface suggested it was an old edition, but well preserved.
Next to it sat a bowl filled with silver-wrapped candies and a mug shaped like a sleeping cat.
Small details—but enough to fracture the hardened image Lyra projected to the world.
On the back wall hung a screen in sleep mode, displaying a slow-moving starry sky. Beneath it rested a framed photograph.
It looked old—possibly printed on real paper.
In it, two adults: a woman with long hair, intense eyes, and a serene smile that radiated warmth… and a tall man with a firm jawline and a serious but protective expression.
Both wore stylized military uniforms, though not matching.
Eiden didn't need to ask who they were. The woman's eyes were identical to Lyra's.
He sighed. The space said more about her than any words could. And yet, she still felt like an unsolvable mystery.
"Doing recon?" asked Lyra from the top of the stairs.
Eiden turned immediately.
Lyra was descending with confident steps, wearing her white combat jacket, unzipped to reveal a black crop top bearing the same symbol he'd seen before. Her tactical belt held a compact pistol and a sheathed knife in place.
She wore tight leather shorts and black stockings that let the fiery tattoo on her leg peek through—giving her a look both youthful and fiercely alluring.
"You took your time," he teased, throwing her earlier line back at her.
Lyra smirked, stepping forward to pat his shoulder. Then she stood in front of him, adjusting the edges of his jacket.
"It suits you," she said, nodding with a small, satisfied smile—clearly pleased with her choice.
"I didn't even thank you. That was a nice gesture," Eiden replied, nodding while briefly losing himself in her gaze.
She had a subtle gloss on her lips and a faint shade on her eyelids—barely noticeable but enough to intensify her stare.
Her wavy hair fell more freely than usual, the soft ends framing her face with an unexpectedly delicate air.
As if the words weighed too much, Eiden finally dared:
"You look really pretty," he said, scratching his temple and looking away at once.
Lyra laughed.
"Thanks… I guess."
She didn't seem like the type to blush easily. And Eiden figured that shouldn't surprise him. She probably got compliments often.
But in a world where bodies were reshaped and altered beyond recognition, Lyra had a kind of beauty untouched by artifice. Natural. Undeniable. And that set her apart.
"Shall we go?" he asked, eager to shift the mood.
"Follow me," she said. But she didn't move.
She just kept staring at him.
"Is something wrong?" he asked, puzzled.
"Don't change how you see me because of what you're going to witness today," she said, cutting him off almost urgently. "It won't be easy… but as long as you play along, we'll be fine. I know it's unfair to ask, but please, don't take to heart whatever you hear today."
Eiden stared at her in silence for a few seconds. It was what he'd expected—but that didn't ease the knot in his chest. Not for himself, and not for her.
"I understand. I trust you," he said calmly, noticing how Lyra was holding back more than just worry in her expression.
She gave a small nod. Then, without warning, she stepped forward and pressed herself into his chest, hands still in her jacket pockets.
Eiden froze for a moment, then gently lifted his right arm and rested it across her back.
"You're shaking," he murmured softly. "Are you really okay?"
"I just need a moment…" she whispered, her voice muffled by the closeness.
He felt a rush of emotion—nervousness, anxiety, tenderness, concern… even anger.
But not at her. At whoever had made her feel this way.
And in that moment, he understood. He was ready to protect her.
He didn't even know her completely yet—but that didn't matter.
He would follow her, just as she asked…
But there were lines he wouldn't cross.
Not if it meant letting anyone hurt her.
And why did he feel that so strongly?
Even he didn't know.