Itsuki slowly opened his eyes and pushed himself upright from the straw mat on the floor. His mat lay beside René's, and hers beside André's, both children curled beneath thin blankets. Their parents slept on the small bed just besides them—cramped, old, but still big enough for two people to make do.
His vision adjusted slowly. The faint, warm glow of a single oil lamp placed in the center of the room helped guide his blurry eyes.
Why am I waking up now? It feels way too early…
He rose carefully, stepping between the clustered belongings around the room—stacked bowls, folded mats, baskets, and clothes—trying not to disturb anyone. Then, he walked to the window and gently peeled back the curtain.
Dawn hovered thinly over the sky, not light enough to call morning, not dark enough to remain night.
It looks like the day's coming through… but the sun's nowhere close to rising.
Maybe this is when Adrien normally wakes up, and it's rubbing off on me.
What a weirdo…
He closed the curtain again and turned back. The quiet room, with its cramped shadows and worn surfaces, forced him to confront—again—the life he was now living.
As he stepped around to return to his mat, Adrien's father suddenly sat up. He scrubbed at his face, his tired eyes narrowing against the lamp's faint glow as he recognized Itsuki's figure.
"Adrien… you're awake. Have you started getting ready already?"
Right. Adrien and his father always woke up at this time. Their day began before the sun even thought about rising.
"Um… no, not yet," Itsuki answered softly. "I just woke up too."
"Alright. You clean up first. I'll go after."
Itsuki nodded and moved toward the bag against the wall, pulling out the first set of clothes he could distinguish in the dim light before he slipped out quietly through the door.
This must be the other half of Adrien's life… The part where luxury isn't even in the vocabulary, but responsibility always is. They stay afloat because he and his father start working before dawn and don't stop till the sun's long gone.
And now I have to take his place…
Sometime later, after he had washed and changed into the rougher, more ragged clothes than the ones he wore the previous day, Itsuki sat on the single couch near the wall, trying to gather himself.
Suddenly, loud consecutive chimes echoed across the city—deep and heavy, like a tower bell struck with force.
He turned toward the window instantly. The faintest silver of dawn seeped through the curtains, though the sun still hadn't reached the point where it could be identified as risen.
René stirred first, stretching and rubbing at her eyes. André followed, then their mother sat up, brushing her hair back with a tired hand.
The Church's morning call…
Everyone exchanged soft greetings—groggy voices, half-open eyes—and then they split off into their usual routines. Their mother shuffled into the kitchen to prepare something simple for breakfast. René and André wandered between the room, the kitchen, and the corridor outside to do quick morning chores.
René's not being clingy this morning… I guess hearing a giant bell every day makes even the sweetest kid too groggy to latch on.
But why am I even waiting here? From Adrien's memories, he doesn't leave with his father. He usually leaves with…
A knock on the door cut his thoughts short.
From outside the corridor, Andrè opened it—and standing there was Adrien's friend. The same man Itsuki had met yesterday. A bag slung over his shoulder, hands tucked casually into his pockets.
The lamp's orange glow fell across Itsuki's face as their eyes met.
"You ready to go?" the friend asked.
"Sure," Itsuki replied calmly, rising to his feet.
He walked past André, who was sweeping lazily at the corridor's floorboards.
No goodbye again, huh?
Outside the apartment, nothing had changed from the previous day—yet everything somehow felt different to Itsuki.
A thin blanket of dawn mist clung to the narrow street, softening the outlines of the old buildings that framed both sides. The cobblestones were still damp from the night's chill, gleaming faintly beneath the flickering yellow lamps that had not yet been turned off.
People were already moving about: vendors pushing wooden carts into place before setting up their morning goods, factory workers tightening their scarves as they trudged toward distant chimneys, women carrying buckets of water, and children still half-asleep sweeping storefronts under their parents' tired gazes.
In the midst of all the morning noise, Itsuki and Adrien's friend kept walking forward. No words passed between them—not even the usual small talk to ease the moment.
Just like every other day… He's always been the type to speak only when it's necessary.
It's surprising, really. They're supposed to be close… yet he hardly talks at all.
A small, almost wistful breath escaped him.
Lucky. To have something this genuine with someone… and without even trying as hard as others do.
---
So this is the site they've all been talking about…
Itsuki stood with Adrien's friend at the entrance of a massive wooden warehouse built tightly against a busy morning street. The boards creaked with age, and the structure itself looked like it had been repaired so often that every plank was a different shade of brown or grey.
Both he and the friend stared inside.
And at the center of the warehouse, hung the thing they had come for.
A domain rift.
A large circular tear suspended a few meters above the ground, as though someone had sliced reality open with a blade and left the wound hanging midair. Its edges pulsed and warped, stretching like warped metal catching light, the inside swirling with shifting shadows and faint glimmers of color that didn't follow any natural rule.
At its borders, space looked like glass bending and cracking, each fracture glowing faintly before fading.
Inside the warehouse, the rest of the space was filled with clusters of workers. Most wore worn-out clothes patched up so many times the fabric barely matched anymore. Others—just a few—had thick coats, reinforced gloves, and proper protective headgear that marked them as the ones who could afford safety.
I'm not sure what I expected when Adrien's friend or his parents talked about the site… but it definitely wasn't this.
He looked around again, uneasy.
What exactly are we even waiting for?
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
The system isn't making this easier either. It somehow keeps stopping me from accessing full knowledge about this world… like it's intentionally hiding things. Even the memories I can access only seem to appear when certain conditions are met.
Such a hassle.
The murmurs inside the warehouse grew louder. People shifted, stretched, paced restlessly. Itsuki and the friend also waited in silence, neither speaking, both just observing.
Then, there was finally movement.
From within the rift, figures of people emerged one by one.
Men and women stepped out, each of them dressed in gear and armor
Who… are these?
Whatever they were, they all had one thing in common, their armor.
Those worn by a few looked almost too thin to matter—pale plates fitted so tightly they moved like a second skin. When they moved, faint seams along the joints flickered with a soft glow, as if the armour breathed with them. The pauldrons were barely there, the gauntlets sharp and reinforced, everything trimmed down to prioritize mobility
Though that was just one group. The other wore armour that was the opposite. Thick, layered plates wrapped them like a walking fortress, every surface shaped to deflect or crush. The pauldrons curved outward like the horns of some iron beast, and the fur around the collar of some made their whole figure look even larger. Their gauntlets seemed so heavy that every small motion feel like a threat by itself.
Itsuki tilted his eyes toward Adrien's friend standing beside him.
I can't exactly ask him anything about what's happening right now. Adrien would've already known all this I'm sure. If I start acting clueless, he'll notice something's wrong.
He looked forward again as the figures continued emerging from the rift.
Eight people… Three in the heavy type armour, five in the lighter sets. Perhaps the armour they wear depends on their Archetype?
One of the lighter-armoured awakeners broke away from the group and walked toward a helmeted supervisor waiting near the crowd. They exchanged a few brief words—nothing Itsuki could make out over the muttering and shifting of boots—before the man rejoined his squad.
As they began filing out of the warehouse, the one who had lagged behind turned just slightly for a moment, his gaze meeting those of Itsuki.
Dark blue eyes, strands of grey hair trailing across otherwise jet-black locks, like frayed threads on worn cloth.
Itsuki blinked as the man's expression shifted back forward. No smile, no nod, just that sudden level stare before he followed the others into the street and vanished into the morning fog.