Ezra’s dreams had been getting worse. At first, they were vague, surreal visions—glimpses into a world that shouldn’t exist. But now? Now, it was screaming at him. The star that blinked its desperate S.O.S. in the void was no longer just fshing a distress signal.

  It was speaking. "Save… me… please…"

  The words echoed through the dreamscape, reverberating in his skull like a plea that had been shouted across eternity just to reach him. Panic set in. Ezra’s breathing hitched, his mind racing. And then—the angels noticed him. Their perfect, pristine forms turned unnaturally in sync, faces eerily serene, their glowing, golden eyes locking onto him.

  They saw him. They knew he was here. And then—they started moving. Ezra ran. His feet pounded against the golden streets of the dream-city, his breath ragged, his heart smming against his ribs.

  Get out. Get out. GET OUT.

  The world stretched and shifted around him, the dreamscape morphing like a living thing, the golden light warping as he ran—Until he collided with someone.

  He staggered back, expecting to see an angel, expecting to see Edgar, the goat-headed figure, or maybe even a demon. But no. It was a man. A regur, human man. He was tall, dressed in a crisp but simple suit, standing there with an air of complete nonchance, like he was waiting for a train that was running a few minutes te. His dark hair was slightly unkempt, but his tie was neatly done, his hands tucked casually into his pockets.

  He gave Ezra a lopsided smile, his posture unbothered, almost zy. "Well, that was a bit dramatic, don’t you think?" he mused.

  Ezra blinked, panting heavily. "Who the hell are you?"

  The man chuckled, tilting his head slightly. "Mr. Shoece," he said easily.

  Ezra stared at him. Mr. Shoece just grinned. And suddenly—Ezra didn’t notice the passage of time anymore. The angels disappeared. The city faded into a soft blur, like the dream had reset itself. Ezra was talking to Mr. Shoece, but somehow, he couldn’t recall the conversation. Like something was intentionally keeping it just out of reach.

  But at the end of it—As if snapping back into focus, he distinctly remembered Mr. Shoece saying: "Rest up now. You have a big day ahead of you tomorrow."

  And just like that—The dream ended.

  Ezra woke up when the pne touched down in Japan. For the first time in years, it felt like he had actually slept. Like his body had been wrapped in absolute peace, his mind untouched by stress, fear, or exhaustion. He felt refreshed. Clear-headed. Rexed.

  That peace sted exactly fifteen seconds before—"EZRA! WAKE UP!"

  Ezra groaned loudly, dragging a hand down his face. Haru had been shaking him violently, the little gremlin already hyped beyond belief about their return. "Ezra, get up! We have to go! We have science to do!"

  Ezra grumbled. "Haru, I swear to every god imaginable—" Then he paused, frowning. Standing near the gate was a notable figure, someone even Ezra recognized from Sornet headlines—a big-wig scientist, a household name in research circles. At first, the man was strolling toward Ezra. Ezra straightened, blinking in surprise as he instinctively stood up, expecting an introduction, a conversation, something.

  But then—His stomach dropped when the scientist said, "I’m looking for Haru Kim."

  Ezra turned his head slowly, like a man watching his worst nightmare unfold in slow motion.

  Sure enough—A storage bin nearby rattled. The lid flipped open, and out popped Haru, grinning like he had been hiding there the entire time. Ezra felt his soul leave his body.

  "Ah, you found me!" Haru chirped, hopping out like a little gremlin.

  Ezra sat back down. Hard. Haru bounced over to greet the scientist, practically buzzing with excitement. Ezra didn’t even try to keep up with their conversation. He was already back in his b, trying to focus on a gravity radar project Haru had given him. But the conversation was loud, and it was impossible to ignore. The scientist was offering Haru a ridiculous sum of money for his research.

  Not just a paycheck—a fortune.

  Ezra’s hands tightened around the tools in front of him. His mind clouded with frustration, the words from their conversation bleeding into his thoughts. Haru—this little kid, this eleven-year-old child prodigy—was getting once-in-a-lifetime offers like it was nothing. Meanwhile, Ezra was here, grinding through another one of Haru’s projects, feeling more and more like an afterthought.

  He tried to focus. Tried to shut it out. Tried to tell himself that this didn’t bother him. But the more he overheard—The more he worked—The more that frustration clouded his judgment.

  Ezra’s breaking point came not with a yell, not with an outburst, but with the snap of a machine part flying straight across the b.He barely had time to react, his mind still clouded by frustration, when he heard the unmistakable sound of metal being caught mid-air.

  His breath hitched. The room fell into a suffocating silence. Slowly, he turned his head. And standing there, unmoving, unblinking, gripping the broken piece of machinery like it weighed nothing—Clover.

  Her golden eyes pierced into him, her neutral expression betraying nothing. "You," she said, her voice sharp, absolute.

  Ezra swallowed. "Me?"

  She pointed directly at him. "Come with me."

  A beat of silence. Then—"Ooooooh," Haru gasped theatrically from behind the workbench. "Someone’s in trooooouble!"

  Ezra clenched his jaw so hard his teeth might crack.

  The walk to the bunker doors was silent. Clover led him down through the secured levels, her presence so commanding that no one dared question why Ezra was being dragged into the abyss beneath Mt. Fuji.

  When they stopped in front of the final set of reinforced doors, she handed him something heavy. Ezra stared down at it. Lead armor. Thick, dense, oppressively heavy lead armor.

  Ezra’s stomach twisted. "Oh, that’s comforting."

  Clover didn’t even acknowledge his sarcasm. "Put it on." Ezra obeyed without further compint.

  The moment he stepped past the designated safety area, he knew—He was in a pce he was never meant to be. Clover led him through a separate entrance, past the redundant safety locks, past where even Key and Kim executives were normally allowed to go.

  This was the core's center chamber. And then—Ezra saw it. His breath caught, his pulse hammering against his ribs. A star. A literal star. Except—something was wrong.

  It wasn’t bright. It wasn’t golden or bzing with light like the sun. No. It was dark. It pulsed in deep purples, in swirling bcks, its edges rippling like the event horizon of a bck hole.

  A gravity well.

  A dying celestial body, held in pce by technology that should not exist. Ezra’s vision blurred for a second, because he had seen this before. In his dreams. The same star that begged him to save it.

  The one that called out, "Help me… please."

  His body felt weak, the world around him tilting, shifting, and suddenly— Clover spoke. "You have only one opportunity to come clean," she said.

  Ezra’s head snapped toward her. She wasn’t alone. Four guards stood behind her, mutated like she was—horns, hooves, extra limbs that twitched unnaturally beneath armor, all of them radiating a presence that sent terror crawling up Ezra’s spine.

  "The Silent Legion has detected an anomaly in the core's activity," Clover continued. "An anomaly that did not exist until you began working here."

  Ezra’s stomach dropped. "Tell me, Ezra Key," Clover said, stepping closer. "Is there anything you would like to confess?" Ezra felt his hands go cmmy, his heart pounding violently against his ribs. There was no right answer here. If he told the truth, he’d be implicated in something even he didn’t understand.

  If he lied…

  He didn’t want to think about that option. So he swallowed thickly, mustered every ounce of courage he had, and forced himself to meet her piercing gaze. "I don’t know anything."

  Clover studied him for a long, painful moment. Then, she snapped her fingers. One of the guards stepped forward. Before Ezra could even process what was happening—A hand struck him across the face with bone-shattering force.

  The impact sent him staggering, nearly knocking him off his feet. Pain exploded through his skull, his vision going white for a brief second. He barely caught himself before hitting the ground. He tasted blood.

  Clover’s voice was calm, unaffected. "Nothing escapes Edgar’s gaze."

  Ezra froze. Oh. Fuck.

  She knew.

  Or at least—she knew something.

  She stepped forward, towering over him, her golden eyes like razor-wire cutting through his very soul. "Tell me the truth."

  Ezra’s mind raced, panic setting in. But before he could stop himself, the words spilled out. "I—" He swallowed hard. "I saw something. A star. It was… it was in my dreams."

  Clover’s eyes narrowed. "Go on."

  Ezra hesitated. He had already pushed too far. He needed to stop. He needed to lie. "I didn’t see anything else," he said quickly.

  Another snap of fingers. Another sp across the face.

  Ezra hit the ground this time, his skull ringing from the force, his mind scrambling to stay upright. "Okay! Fine!" he snapped, pressing a hand to his aching jaw. "I saw some spooky shit!" He coughed, spitting blood into his palm. "Mutant-looking things! They were farming creatures or something! That’s all I know!"

  His pulse thundered in his ears, his hands shaking as he forced himself to sit up again. Clover stared at him for another excruciatingly long moment.

  Then—She nodded. "You are dismissed."

  Ezra blinked. "Wait, that’s it?"

  She tilted her head slightly. "For now."

  He did not like the way she said that.

  "You should consider your words more carefully next time," she said smoothly. Then her voice lowered, the weight of her next sentence settling over him like ice-cold steel. "If you lie to me again," she said, "we will send your tongue through a portal and shove it so far up your ass you'll taste what you had for lunch."

  Ezra’s breath caught in his throat. His mouth went dry. He nodded—very, very quickly. "Understood," he choked out.

  Clover turned without another word.

  Ezra forced himself onto shaky feet, limped out of the chamber, and prayed to whatever higher being existed that he never had to come back here again.