"Greater risk, greater reward, kitty... But I don’t mind." He glanced at her as he put on his headphones and turned on the music. "I know that this ti, things probably won’t end as well as they have in the past. Maybe this will even be my last dance... But for so reason, that makes feel even more free. Sorry."
"..." She didn’t answer.
"And I’m also sorry that in monts like this, I’m secretly glad you don’t understand ."
He smiled guiltily and, tilting his head, tried to lean against her... But instead of doing the sa in return, she pulled away.
He sighed and, turning the music up full blast, headed for the exit to the bar.
Various thoughts swirled in his head. From how, clad in advanced gear and ard with a monstrous arsenal, he’d fight his way through a crowd of creatures that looked like devils, hoping to witness the mysterious Catalyst Event, to...
The book was hidden under his jacket. Most likely written by the last Peak of Knowledge himself — Iron Heart... Most likely by one of those who had also been transported to this world.
However, before all these thoughts could develop into sothing more, he saw a figure waiting for him at the back entrance to the bar.
Sighing, he took off one earbud and heard a familiar voice.
"You show up and don’t even say hello. You’re leaving and not even saying goodbye?" Marcel said.
"Excuse , are you talking to ? Listen, I don’t think we’ve t before..."
"Co on, kid. If you’re dressed like a damn punk, acting like a one-of-a-kind Nobody, and walking around with a cat wearing a supervillain cape—it doesn’t matter what face you’re wearing today."
"Oh..." He glanced awkwardly at the cat, but she didn’t even look at him.
"Besides, there’s a so brand-new bike parked behind the bar, and my son said he t so cool stranger."
He grinned.
"You know, I wanted to make a surprise entrance, but you weren’t there. I didn’t want to keep Schrödinger waiting, so I went straight to him."
"Oh, so you finally talked to him... Why don’t you co over and tell about it? And also about the reason you haven’t stopped by in so long." Marcel grinned, pointing at his shoulder.
"...You know, I’m kind of in a hurry."
"Co on. Damian’s been moping all day because he never got to let that cool stranger try his mom’s pasta. Can you imagine how shocked he’ll be when he finds out that the cool stranger he t is his favorite hero!"
"Seriously, old man, I have to go." He sighed, glancing back at the noise of the street. It seed like he could hear a familiar guitar riff coming from one of the corners. "There’s a serious job on the line, and I’ve got just over a day left to prepare."
"A new job, and not through ?" Marcel frowned. "You didn’t give the details... Is it sothing too dangerous again?"
"I don’t... even know how to explain it." He shook his head, avoiding his gaze.
The details were so frightening that it was better not to voice them.
Staring at the dark silhouettes of n with bottles outside the windows, he kept trying to figure out where the music was coming from.
There was sothing sad about it, but at the sa ti warm and familiar. Sothing urging him to take the plunge into a place from which there might be no return, and sothing making him desperately want to go ho.
"Haa... well, take care of yourself, kid." Marcel placed a hand on his free shoulder. "There will always be people here waiting for you."
Dozens of n with hollowed-out faces, devoid of even a trace of hope, stared blankly through the windows of the apartnt buildings. So of those gazes t his.
"..." He shifted his gaze to Marcel and nodded vaguely.
Without a word, he headed for the entrance and began climbing the shadowed staircase.
Marcel stood there, watching him go.
"... Old man," he called softly, barely glancing back. "If I manage to co back, will your wife really make the best pasta in the world?"
"Of course!" he called out with a smile.
He nodded and, putting his headphones back on, walked away without saying goodbye.
The recent sense of anticipation gave way to a vague unease... as well as the fear that he might not return.
The fear that, once again... he had sothing to lose.
...
A day later.
"11 hours and 56 minutes left."
Mr. Nobody tossed and turned in his sleep, lying on the floor next to the sofa. In the darkness, a white bandage could be seen on his forehead, with a dried dark-red stain.
An old book lay next to him, open to the first few pages.
"..." For a while, the cat gazed thoughtfully at those pages from atop the sofa.
Apparently, giving up on trying to understand the text, she turned away and went for a stroll around the apartnt.
Walking into the kitchen, she stared at the closed refrigerator for a while.
Returning, she began to gaze idly out the window.
Finally, she headed toward the bookshelf, where she sniffed at an open pack of cigarettes for a while.
All this ti, she pointedly tried not to look at the sleeping man, as if she were still harboring so kind of resentnt...
"I-I’m sorry... I’m sorry..." More muttering in his sleep finally made her pay attention to him.
His fingernails dug into the floor, and his face wore an expression of agony.
He often muttered in his sleep, and this ti was no exception.
"I’m so sorry... God, I’m so sorry..." His nails scraped against the floor, and beads of sweat ran down his face.
The cat crouched down beside him, her blue eyes watching the man’s face.
It seed his nightmare had shifted.
"N-no, no, don’t make ... Please, don’t make do this again."
"...I don’t want to. Please, no."
All this ti, the cat watched his moans and tossing and turning in his sleep.
Her paw rested on the man’s forearm, and for a mont, he cald down.
However, after a while, the nightmare reached its peak.
The man’s teeth chattered, and waves of shivers ran through his body. It seed as though he was experiencing incredible fear.
"N-no, n-no, not you... p-please, not you..."
"N-no... No, no, no...!"
His chest heaved heavily, and his legs twitched as if trying to run away.
With every passing second, his fear intensified, as if sothing terrible were about to happen.
"ow..." the cat called softly and carefully lay down on his chest.
His head jerked back as if dodging, and his lips pressed together as if trying to hold back a scream.
This went on until...
"He got ...!"
"...." His scream and wide-open eyes t only predatory blue eyes and a pleasant warmth on his chest.
"Kitty...?"
"ow."
"I’m sorry, I... I’m sorry."
He pulled her close and hugged her, rolling onto his side.
"..." She looked at him as the last of his tears stained her black fur.
"...It’s okay now." He closed his eyes and pulled her even closer. "Thank you."
She watched his face until his breathing grew quiet and steady.
Then the cat settled more comfortably under his arm and closed her eyes too.
...
*Ding-ding-dong. Ding-ding-dong...* The alarm’s tune began to play.
"Until the start of true hell... 5 hours and 29 minutes left!!!" The overly cheerful ssage read. It was displayed by a hologram of Paymax, dressed as a terrifying creature with devilish horns and a maniacal grin.
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