When I regained consciousness, it was neither slow nor peaceful.
The world came back all at once.
Voices. Footsteps. The distant roar of engines.
Then—
Silence.
The sound cut off so abruptly it felt edited out of existence. The room settled into sterile stillness.
"What was that?"
I looked around.
Too clean.
Too white.
Too normal.
This wasn't the dungeon.
The air smelled of disinfectant and something faintly metallic. My gaze drifted — and stopped at the IV drip hanging beside the bed.
Hospital.
More importantly—
How?
I hadn't cleared the dungeon. I hadn't completed the mission.
So how did I get out?
"Look, sister. Your pet thing is awake."
The voice did not belong to the room.
A translucent blue screen unfolded in front of me. Words formed across it in crisp, glowing text.
"Yes, brother. I have observed that particular fact."
Another screen shimmered into existence.
Red.
Not beside the blue one — overlapping it. Interfacing.
I watched the exchange appear in real time, line by line.
I wasn't hearing them.
I was reading them.
"Ah. This one is a fan of what humans call manga and anime."
The red text flickered faintly at the edges, like static beneath glass.
"Oh dear sister, is that where you got this system idea? How unlike you. Are you running out of new concepts?"
The air tightened.
Not metaphorically. The space around me felt charged, as if something immense had shifted its attention.
The blue screen sharpened.
"Efficiency does not require originality. But I understand such concepts are beyond you."
The red screen pulsed once.
Not fading.
Not vanishing.
Remaining.
Integrated.
I stared at the overlapping red and blue text.
They weren't speaking to me.
They were speaking through the same framework.
Like two administrators arguing inside a program.
And I was just… watching.
No.
No. I am not naming the voices in my head.
Crazy people do that.
I am not crazy.
Right?
"—so what've we got on the agenda, Lizz?"
The screens vanished.
No fade.
No glitch.
Gone.
Real sound rushed back in.
"Just making the rounds," a woman replied. "Checking on the low-priority patients."
"Great. People who don't know water and sleep are important. Like this kid — barely eighteen and already collapsing from dehydration."
"That's not fair, Jack," she laughed. "I remember someone who thought tying a shopping cart to a car would make for a fun ride."
"I told you that in confidence."
"I promised nothing."
Footsteps approached.
For a moment, my chest tightened.
The whole time it had sounded like they were right next door.
But the voices had been farther down the hall.
Much farther.
The door opened.
A middle-aged brunette stepped inside, composed and professional. A tall blond man followed, smiling in that tired but practiced way doctors have.
"Hey, bud. How're you feeling?"
"Fine," I said automatically. "How did I get here?"
"Your mom brought you in. Mind answering a few questions?"
I nodded, distracted as the brunette adjusted the IV.
"Any dizziness? Drowsiness?"
"No."
"Have you been drinking enough fluids?"
Red.
A flash of red in my peripheral vision—
Impact.
Arms wrapped around me with enough force to knock the breath from my lungs.
"Kushina?"
"Mmph— shut up."
Her voice was muffled against my chest.
I hesitated before wrapping my arms around her.
She was shaking.
Footsteps sounded in the hallway.
She froze.
Then she pulled back abruptly — cheeks flushed, eyes darting toward the open door. Embarrassed.
Not because of me.
Because someone might have seen.
She scrubbed at her face quickly, pretending she hadn't just nearly tackled her brother.
And then—
Another pair of arms collided with me.
"Emily?"
My face burned.
Over their shoulders, I saw Mom leaning against the wall.
She was smiling.
But the worry never left her eyes.