4.5 light-years from Earth — Alpha Centauri

  Amoro, the Teleopean civilization

  Chen scanned the reports in his hand. His expression remained composed, but impatience bled through the stillness.

  Three star-ring weeks.

  Over a month by Earth’s calendar.

  Too long.

  “Xuan.”

  『Your Majesty.』

  “Everyone on this list,” Chen said evenly. “If they resist, execute them.”

  『Understood.』

  Chen set the reports aside. Rebels were nothing new. They had never stopped calling his existence unnatural. That alone was reason enough.

  A Continuation.

  Life born from death.

  They treated the word like an accusation—as if survival itself were a crime.

  “Xuan. Prepare my departure. I’m returning to Earth.”

  Chen was sick of the endless infestation of rebels. This time, he wouldn’t be as lenient as before.

  [Yes, Your Majesty.]

  He cut the channel and rose in silence, walking toward the exit of the palace.

  The thought of seeing Yan Qing again made his earlier irritation feel suddenly light.

  To the right of the exit was the hangar. Chen boarded one of the ships and ignited the engines.

  The craft lifted smoothly from the ground.

  In one ten-thousandth of a second, its speed surged from zero to 420 kilometers per second, shooting straight upward.

  Breaking free of the atmosphere took almost no time. Once it escaped gravity, the ship accelerated again, leveling off only when it reached near-relativistic speed.

  [Warning: three patrol craft detected at your left rear. Weapons lock confirmed.]

  The ship’s artificial intelligence spoke—flat, synthesized, emotionless.

  “What a lack of creativity,” Chen sneered at the three vessels on the screen.

  The attackers opened fire. White, high-energy lasers—moving at light speed—shot toward Chen’s ship.

  “AI. Spiral descent, twenty-four degrees. Secondary engine output: twenty-three percent.”

  Chen’s voice remained calm, his face entirely unshaken.

  The ship snapped into evasive maneuvering.

  The lasers grazed past the hull by a hair.

  “Enable manual control.”

  [Warning: inertia compensator will overload during manual operation.]

  “Overwrite.”

  [Approved. Manual control engaged.]

  A manual console rose from the panel—dense with buttons and toggles and controls enough to make a normal pilot dizzy.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Chen simply gripped one lever—

  And yanked it back without warning.

  The ship slammed to a dead stop mid-flight.

  The three pursuing craft couldn’t brake in time and shot straight past.

  Hunter and prey swapped positions in an instant.

  That kind of sudden braking would subject a pilot to G-forces strong enough to pulverize bones. Even Teleopeans, with their metal-like skeletons, wouldn’t take it lightly.

  Chen only frowned slightly—and executed the sequence successfully.

  His fingers danced across the controls. The ship’s dual plasma cannons armed.

  The roles had reversed.

  A bloodthirsty smile drifted across Chen’s striking face. Like a reaper from hell, he carried not even a hint of mercy.

  “Let’s make this quick.”

  While the universe was full of lethal ambushes, Earth remained calm.

  It was nearly time to clock off. People packed their bags, ready to leave the moment the hour struck.

  Chris was a perfect example.

  In truth, he’d been watching the clock and doing nothing for at least an hour.

  And then there were the workaholics—people who stayed buried in work even after hours.

  Professor Willian Yan Qing was one of them. He was busy polishing a lecture manuscript for an upcoming university talk.

  “Yan Qing, it’s your birthday today.” Chris drawled, biting an expensive Tibaldi fountain pen, hands laced behind his head. “Why not just celebrate at home?”

  “I’m not a child. I don’t need birthday celebrations,” Yan Qing replied. “And as for you—thank you for the gift, but I can’t accept it.”

  Earlier, Chris had presented him with a brand-new McLaren, keys dangling with a flourish. Yan Qing stared at the keys, incredulous. He couldn’t possibly accept something that absurd.

  Chris’s family had so much money, gifts like this were just another whim.

  Yan Qing honestly didn’t understand why Chris worked at NASA as a “small-time” researcher. With that kind of wealth, he could buy the whole agency.

  Yan Qing doubted Chris’s claim that he was there for the love of research.

  Chris came to work to amuse himself, not out of passion.

  “Yan Qing, we’ve been friends for years. If you won’t even take my gift, I’m heartbroken.” Chris clutched his chest theatrically, but with his face it looked less like heartbreak and more like he’d been constipated for three days.

  “Chris, I know you’re rich,” Yan Qing stated. “But I prefer to earn my own money.”

  “Too principled,” Chris complained. “Out of all my friends, you’re the only one who keeps returning my gifts. It makes me look bad.” He puffed his cheeks. “It’s not even expensive. Just my sincere feelings~~”

  “I appreciate it,” Yan Qing said, shaking his head. “But I still can’t accept it. We’ve known each other for so many years—do we really need birthday gifts every time?”

  Principles?

  Yan Qing wondered if he had any principles left.

  When he remembered what had happened not long ago, shame surged up his chest.

  Chen…

  Yan Qing’s dark eyes dimmed.

  “I want to give it to you,” Chris said, tilting his head like a child— Chris’s voice pulled him back to the present.

  .

  “…A car like that,” Yan Qing said, looking down as he organized his lecture papers and slid them into his desk drawer, “I’d understand if you gave it to someone you were dating. But giving it to me is… a bit much.”

  The way Yan Qing’s lashes lowered made Chris’s heart thud.

  “Compared to those women,” Chris’s voice caught, softer than before. “I’d rather give it to you.”

  “Huh?”

  “Boy Scouts motto!” Chris grinned, striking a ridiculous pose. “Bros first! Women second!”

  Yan Qing looked at him, helpless. “You’re not even a Boy Scout anymore. Why are you still yelling slogans like that?”

  “You know what I mean.” Chris stuck out his tongue, then sobered. ‘I just want you to be happy. “I just want you to be happy.”

  The sudden seriousness made Yan Qing uncomfortable.

  Chris was usually all jokes. But on the rare occasions he turned serious, he became someone who could pressure a room without raising his voice.

  His blue eyes were like the deep ocean.

  For a moment, Yan Qing found him unfamiliar.

  Then Chris broke eye contact, cutting off any chance to look deeper.

  “Chris…?”

  “I know about Xiaowen,” Chris said suddenly. “Don’t be sad.”

  Yan Qing stared at his profile, then understood.

  “Thank you, Chris.”

  So he was trying to comfort him.

  Xiaowen and him had ended their relationship months ago. Yan Qing didn’t even know how Chris found out—but he was still grateful.

  “With a friend like you,” Yan Qing said honestly, “I’m really glad.”

  The sincerity softened his sharp features, making him look gentler.

  “It’s… it’s nothing. Of course!” Chris replied, deliberately lowering his voice, trying to hide the wave of emotion in his chest.

  Seriously.

  Always handing out “nice guy” cards without realizing it.

  He complained internally, but couldn’t stop his face heating up.

  “But how did you know?” Yan Qing asked, genuinely curious.

  “I saw Xiaowen with another man a few days ago—ah, damn!” Chris blurted, then clapped a hand over his mouth.

  Too late.

  Yan Qing’s lashes lowered slightly, shadowing his eyes. “That’s her choice,” he said evenly. “Nothing I can do. We weren’t compatible.”

  It hurt, a little, that years of history ended so suddenly.

  Yan Qing was surprised by how little it hurt. There were bigger things to worry about.

  “She’s the one not good enough for you,” Chris said, indignant. “Yan Qing, why die on one tree and give up the whole forest?”

  “…What?” Yan Qing gave him a blank look.

  Then, Yan Qing realized Chris was joking, but the words didn’t quite land.

  “There are other good girls,” Chris corrected quickly. “Don’t be sad about Xiaowen. How about this—let’s go bar-hopping tonight. Maybe you’ll meet some pretty girls.”

  It was Friday. Plenty of people would hit bars and clubs after work.

  “Sorry,” Yan Qing declined politely. “I have to lecture tomorrow.”

  “Don’t ‘thank you’ me,” Chris said, waving it off. “We’re friends. What’s with the formality?”

  Same old Chris—exactly like high school.

  Yan Qing found himself thinking that with a faint sigh.

  Then—

  “Creak—creak…”

  The desks and chairs around them wobbled.

  It was brief, then everything settled back to normal.

  “What was that?” Yan Qing asked first, looking around, confused.

  “Probably someone renovating upstairs,” Chris said.

  “No,” Yan Qing disagreed. “That felt like a small earthquake.”

  Chris flicked a hand. “This is New York, not Tokyo. Where are you getting earthquakes from?”

  “New York has earthquakes,” Yan Qing said immediately. “New York is constantly having earthquakes. They’re just too small to feel most of the time.”

  He was always like this about science: correctness mattered.

  “I was just comparing it to Tokyo.”

  “Tokyo is on the Ring of Fire, so it feels more of them, but that doesn’t mean New York has none.” Yan Qing tilted his head, genuinely puzzled. “Why are you comparing them like that?”

  Chris had learned, over the years, that once Yan Qing locked onto facts, nothing else reached him. Chris surrendered instantly, lowering his head like a guilty child. “Yan Qing, I was wrong.”

  His social circle was full of flattering parasites. Only this one—this strange human—was never here for the money.

  Maybe that was why he was different.

  Chris’s mouth curved in a soft smile.

  Yan Qing… good thing you didn’t marry that woman.

  Otherwise…

  I’d still be figuring out how to make her leave—without you ever knowing why.