Where am I?
Darkness enveloped me completely, like an endless ocean of night without a single star. Is this the afterlife? For some reason, a nagging feeling stirred within me—a haunting déjà vu, as if I had been lost in this place long ago, far back in time.
Long ago.
Long, long ago.
「Wake up.」
A faint whisper brushed my ear, soft as a spring breeze caressing withered leaves.
Erin? No. The voice was different—more feminine, gentler, like a siren's song calling from afar.
I forced my body to move, but it felt like I was trapped in coils of cold mist, every muscle refusing to obey.
「Wake up.」
The voice came again, clearer, more insistent. My head felt heavy, as if sunk deep into thick, unseen mud. I tried to turn it left and right, but some strange, yielding resistance absorbed every effort, soft yet unyielding.
My sense of smell slowly awakened. A scent wafted through—roses? Or something sweeter, more tempting?
I forced my hand to move, clawing at the soft surface that held me fast.
The woman in front of me let out a soft moan, "Mmmh…" She squirmed beneath the blanket, then sat quietly on the edge of the bed, right beside me.
Her voice was husky and warm, the kind that spills out just after waking, "It's morning already, huh?"
Before me stood a flawless, graceful woman—even fresh from sleep, she looked impeccable. Her hair flowed in thick waves of deep pink silk, mesmerizing and wild. She wore a pink tank top with the word Love printed on it, and beneath it, in tiny letters, money. But the word Love seemed stretched, as if screaming beneath her chest. Her bust—probably an E cup—was a sight hard to ignore.
"HWAAAHH!" I jumped back on the bed, my body bouncing like a rogue rubber ball with no sense of direction. My backside sank instantly into the mattress—an ultra-soft trap that felt like invisible hands holding me captive. Unconsciously, a warm rush trickled beneath my nose—nosebleed.
I scrambled to pinch my nostrils, trying to stem the fierce flow of blood, the sting sharp but overpowered by the lingering scent of roses clinging to the woman's skin—a fragrance almost intoxicating.
Suddenly, a pillow shot across the corner of the room, smacking my face with surprising speed but a touch as gentle as cotton. I was flung back onto the bed, my head swallowed whole by the plush softness of the pillow.
"Too noisy. Don't scream at this early," muttered a woman from the shadows. Her hair was dark blue, cropped short and tousled, a short fringe barely covering part of her forehead. Her skin was sun-kissed, complementing sharp yet lazy eyes.
She wore a loose white tee that had slipped off one shoulder, revealing the firm curve of her chest, subtly glistening under the dim light. The shirt hung carelessly, draping over her slender frame, giving off an effortlessly cool but captivating vibe. The oversized sleeves hid part of her mischievous arms.
I pushed the pillow away from my face, sat up slowly, then hurriedly checked my side—the place of the gaping wound before. My fingers traced over smooth skin, no scar in sight.
"Am I... alive?" I whispered, a mix of relief and confusion swirling inside me. But the message I'd seen before blacking out felt too real to ignore. It had clearly stated I was dead. And that curse...
I choked on the thought. In my heart, I called out to Erin. Silence. No answer. Maybe he was still asleep, or... who knows.
Suddenly, the rose scent was replaced by the rich aroma of broth, spices dancing in the air, teasing my nostrils with savory delight. At the doorway stood a man I recognized, carrying a frying pan and wearing an apron. Hozi—his appearance now far different, his aura more grounded, more human.
"As usual, this house is noisy again," Hozi said casually, as if the morning chaos was nothing new.
I stared at him, trying to steady myself amid the swirling tide of shifting realities. It felt like I was caught between the haze of dreams and the blurred edges of waking life.
"How long have I been out?" I asked softly, my voice hoarse with bewilderment.
Hozi gave a small smile, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Three days. You slept like a corpse just dragged back from the grave."
Three days? I fell silent, my mouth hanging open without meaning to. Time had slipped by faster than I realized. What was I supposed to say to Paris and Lon later? They must've been half out of their minds with worry.
I swallowed hard, trying to accept the truth.
"Where am I?" I asked, confusion thick in my throat.
"How about we eat something first?" Hozi said, flashing a quick wink as he spoke.
***
"Three whole days... that long," I muttered, still struggling to believe it.
"You were out cold, no joke," Hozi teased. "Even when Cella kicked you in the groin, you didn't so much as flinch."
What!?
"Seriously, I even had to bathe you and change your clothes, flipping you over like a rag doll every night. But you stayed as stiff as one," Castenyan chimed in, her tone half-joking, half-annoyed.
What the hell? What have they been doing to my body?
"But honestly, whatever we did wasn't as bad as Hozi's," Castenyan added, shooting Hozi a sharp look. Hozi just returned a sly, secretive smile.
Wait, wait.
"You bastards, what have you done to my body?" I blurted out, panic creeping in.
"You should be thanking us, you know. We were the ones stuck taking care of you after you passed out for three days. What do we look like, a hospital?" Hozi shrugged casually.
I stared at him, my mind racing to process everything. Three days... that was a long time to be out cold, and the thought of what they might have done to me sent a shiver down my spine.
"Hey, seriously, what did you do to my body?" I pressed, suspicion rising.
"Good thing the potion I brought actually worked," Hozi said, pulling a small bottle from the pocket of his apron. The liquid inside was a murky green, thick and slimy like mud—hardly what you'd call tempting, even by wetlands standard.
"Potion?" I echoed, my voice shifting between curiosity and dread.
"I bought it at the deep market. Trust me, getting it was like hunting a rare bird in the middle of a swamp—this potion's the hottest commodity in the Wetlands deep market," Hozi said, half-joking.
"What's in it?" I asked, sharpening my tone, still half suspicious.
"No idea. I never bothered to ask," he replied casually.
Seriously...?
"And you gave it to me?"
"Ah, no. At first, I just rubbed it on your wound," he said nonchalantly, as if treating injuries with mysterious potions was just another day at the office. A flicker of relief crept into my chest—who knew what might've happened to my body if not for that...
"But after that, I handed it over for you to drink."
This guy was definitely on the top of my 'first murder victim' list.
But whatever, three days had passed and I was still alive, kicking. Maybe it was time to be grateful—or at least try to fill the growling hole in my stomach.
Where am I? I wondered, my eyes tracing every corner of the room with a tickling curiosity. The four of us sat around the dining table, each occupying a side like we were attending some secret council. The room was tidy—too tidy for someone like Hozi, whom I'd imagined living in a cardboard box in a dark alley.
A familiar staff leaned casually against the wall, a silent witness to every chaos that had ever unfolded here. Fresh flowers were arranged neatly in a glass vase, releasing a faint, soothing scent that blended with the clean, cozy atmosphere of the house. There was a strange warmth here, something that almost made me forget how messed up my life had been these past few days.
"This is our home, at least for now. Don't be shy," Hozi said lightly.
But then my gaze suddenly locked onto the dining table. I blinked, making sure my eyes weren't playing tricks on me. Two girls across from me were already stuffing their mouths with food, while Hozi's plate was nearly wiped clean.
"I haven't gotten any yet…" I protested, panting, culture shock at the barbaric habits in this house.
"First come, first served," they defended themselves, without a shred of guilt.
For some reason, a vein throbbed at my temple, ready to burst. What the hell was this? They said they were taking care of me—did my stomach have to take a day off too?
Finally, Hozi pushed a piece of chicken toward me, shaking his head with a smirk. "Honestly, I didn't expect Cabalena to be the one chasing you."
I took the chicken, chewing while shooting a sharp look at the rough girl across from me. When I finished, I didn't hesitate to snatch another piece from Hozi's plate.
"You still gonna pretend, Hozi?" Castenyan asked, her voice lazy and a bit challenging.
Huh? What did she mean? My mind spun, trying to digest the question. I glanced at Hozi, who only returned a small, secretive smile.
"Looks like he's not awake yet," muttered Cella, the girl still aggressively chewing her chicken.
Huh, not awake to what?
"What do you mean?" I asked, growing nervous.
"Don't you find it strange?" Cella replied, her eyes boring into me.
"Hozi you see here... and the Hozi you met first—aren't they like two different people?"
I looked Hozi up and down. It wasn't just his tidier appearance, but this bastard's aura now shone bright as day.
"Meeting you when you were a bum, leading you to Mozi's place, then ambushing you with Aiden and Ramlen in that narrow alley, They took you to the base when Cabalena was gone, and saving you from Cabalena's grip—all of that wasn't a coincidence, Fionn."
Hozi… that damn monkey was slippery as hell.
"You set me up?" I hissed, my voice barely containing the anger threatening to spill over.
"Set you up is a harsh phrase, Fionn. We're not villains—just happened that our target was after the book you were carrying," he replied casually, as if this was just a little afternoon game.
"You let me almost die out there? Even a random people like me knows Cabalena is deadly serious."
"What matters is you're alive, right?" he said lightly, like we were talking about the weather.
"All that effort, and you still failed to get the book?" I sneered, half-mocking.
"Who said the book was our target?"
I went silent, waiting for the explanation.
"The book deal won't happen until fourteen days from now. Our real target is the buyer."
"Lingard Onison, Professor of Magical Technology at Tytoal-ba University. No idea what he wants from that book," he continued, his tone turning serious.
"So you deliberately let the book be taken…?"
"Exactly. With Cabalena holding the book, the deal is guaranteed. That's when we'll take Lingard's money—and the book. Simple, right? Everyone wins."
I shook my head, half impressed, half disgusted by their cunning. "Then why the hell did you have to lie to me?"
"I told you, 'lie' is a harsh word," he said, this time brandishing a fork at me—the tip gleaming, instantly drawing my gaze.
"We want to recruit you, Fionn mac Cumhaill."
I froze. "Pardon?"