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Time rewound to the present.
Kenta remained motionless. His brain was overclocked, running at high speed to figure out a logical explanation for why he was sandwiched between two high-ranking officials of Belobog. He needed a story that made it clear this was "purely accidental" before the sleeping beauties woke up.
Seele remained motionless. She had actually woken up a few minutes ago, but her tactical instincts had sensed Kenta's presence before her consciousness had even fully cleared. She remembered the banquet, the wine, and a very vivid series of events involving a secluded alleyway and Kenta's lips. She was currently under the blissful, drunken impression that they had completed the "Great Harmony of Life." Her only regret was that she'd fallen asleep mid-process and couldn't remember the details. She was feigning sleep out of sheer, bone-deep embarrassment.
Bronya remained motionless. She was drowning in regret. Why had she let her Silvermane training take over and knock Kenta unconscious last night? It was her own misunderstanding, yet she'd reacted with a clinical strike to the head. Now, waking up next to him, she felt like her face was permanently on fire. She had no idea how to look him in the eye.
Three people lay on the bed, all playing the world's most high-stakes game of "who blinks first."
Finally, the pressure became too much. Kenta slowly sat up, carefully detricating his arms from the tangle of limbs. He looked at their peaceful, "sleeping" faces. He knew they liked him—he wasn't blind—but he also knew that picking one would be a declaration of war against the other.
"Please," Kenta whispered to himself, a wry 21st-century transmigrator grin tugging at his lips. "I'm a traveler from another world. Do you really expect me to choose just one?" To him, a hero should be able to protect everyone's happiness—especially his own.
He chuckled softly, leaned down, and gave each girl a light, playful flick on the forehead.
"Alright, alright. Enough acting. One of you jumped me in an alley, and the other ambushed me in a hallway. Neither of you makes my life easy."
He said it loud enough for them both to hear. He'd noticed the unnatural stiffness in their breathing the second he moved; he knew exactly what was going on. Since you can't wake someone who's pretending to sleep, he decided to leave them to deal with the awkwardness of each other's company. He tidied his clothes and walked out, closing the door behind him.
The moment the latch clicked, the two girls—now separated by a Kenta-sized gap—snapped their eyes open.
"..."
They stared at each other in a deafening silence.
"Why are you in my bed?" Seele hissed. "What did he mean you 'jumped' him last night?" Bronya countered.
This morning was destined to be eventful.
Kenta pushed open his own front door, expecting the quiet sanctuary of his bachelor pad. Instead, he was met with a very domestic, very confusing sight.
Stelle was standing there, her eyes half-closed and her gray hair a chaotic nest of static. She was wearing a thin, silk slip-over nightgown that left her pale calves exposed to the morning air, finished off with a pair of fluffy slippers. She was holding a kettle, looking like she'd just crawled out of a dream.
"Hmm?" She turned her head. When her eyes landed on Kenta, a contented, sleepy smile curved her lips. She set the kettle down, took a few small steps, and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, burying her face in his chest.
"Kenta~, you're back."
Her voice, usually cool and detached, was soft and sweet. She rubbed her head against him like a cat, her eyes narrowing with comfort. For a second, Kenta felt like a weary husband returning home to a virtuous wife. He subconsciously reached out and stroked her hair... then reality hit.
"Wait, isn't this my house?"
Stelle didn't answer; she simply pulled him into the living room. There, Kenta found the rest of the squad. March 7th and Dan Heng were already washed and seated at the table, picking at a breakfast spread.
"You're back! Kenta!" March chirped, waving a piece of toast. "Take a seat! Want some coffee?"
Kenta rubbed his temples. "Didn't the wanted warrants get dropped? You're national heroes. Why aren't you staying at the five-star hotel the city provided? Why are you back in my living room?"
March 7th stuck out her tongue. "Oops. We just had a bit of... hotel-related trauma. Plus, we wanted to check on you last night, but you were missing in action."
Kenta nodded, letting it slide. He'd wanted to talk to them anyway. He headed for his bedroom to grab his broken blade, but when he opened the door, he found a rumpled, messy bed that clearly hadn't been occupied by him.
"..." He turned to look at Stelle. "Which room did you sleep in last night?"
Stelle tapped her temple with a blank expression. "Eh-heh!"
"'Eh-heh' your big head!"
A few minutes later, the four of them were gathered around the table.
"So, March," Kenta asked, his expression turning serious. "Why is it that your Six-Phase Ice can suppress my Black Flame? That fire burns through almost everything."
"I have no idea," March said, shaking her head. "It just... does? Maybe my ice is just special." She leaned forward, her eyes curious. "But what about that fire? Where did it come from?"
Kenta leaned back, searching his hazy memories. "I'm not entirely sure. I've always been able to control normal fire—just standard heat. I'm a Pathstrider of Memory, as you know. When I channel that Path energy into the flames, they get hotter, more intense."
He paused, his voice dropping an octave. "But the Black Flame... that's something else. It doesn't just burn matter; it burns concepts. When I teleported, I wasn't moving fast—I was 'burning' the distance between me and my target. I can feel it has the power to incinerate almost anything, but..."
"The side effects are devastating," Dan Heng finished.
Kenta nodded. He picked up the broken blade from the table and looked Dan Heng in the eye. "It's called the Shard of the Void," he said suddenly.
Dan Heng's eyes widened. A flicker of surprise, followed by a shadow of ancient complexity, passed over his face.
"I think... I've started to remember some things," Kenta continued.
He took a deep breath and began to explain the strange, disjointed visions of his dreams—the Sky-Faring Commission, the Grand Master, the 'Metamorphosis of Dragon,' and his mysterious past with someone who looked a lot like Dan Heng.
He expected them to be shocked. He expected a dramatic revelation. Instead, March 7th and Stelle looked at him with a deep, sympathetic understanding.
"Oh, don't be sad, Kenta," March said, patting his shoulder. She pointed to herself and then to Stelle. "We're both amnesiacs too. Welcome to the club!"
Kenta: "..."
"I thought amnesia was supposed to be a rare, tragic trope. Is it just a standard requirement for travelers now?"
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