A week later, NASA — Fifth Technology Division, New York

  “Achoo!”

  Rubbing his nose, the sunlit young man with reddish-gold hair frowned at the person across the desk.

  “Someone’s cursing me. Was it you, Yan Qing?”

  “A sneeze doesn’t exactly equal being cursed,” Yan Qing replied without even looking up, continuing to type his lab report.

  “You’re no fun.” Chris pouted, deflated.

  “Then be quiet. Can’t you see I’m busy?”

  Chris scratched his head and flopped forward onto the desk. “So bored~~~ Yan Qing, you’re ignoring me.”

  He glanced at Yan Qing’s serious expression, then let his blue eyes drift aimlessly again.

  That was when he caught a flash of pink in the corner of his vision.

  The inspector’s female secretary was walking down the corridor with a drink in hand, headed toward the inspector’s office.

  “Hey,” Chris said, perking up, eyes gleaming with interest as he watched the pink figure at the far end of the hallway. “Our secretary’s getting more and more diligent. She’s even taken over the tea-and-coffee runs!”

  “Are you done yet, Chris?” Yan Qing pinched the bridge of his nose, already getting a headache. His friend really was unbearable.

  “No, no—listen.” Chris leaned in, excited. “Back when that old fossil was our boss, I never saw her this hardworking. Now we’ve got a temporary inspector and she’s smiling all day.”

  “Is she?” Yan Qing frowned. He wasn’t convinced Chris had any evidence beyond imagination.

  “Of course!” Chris grew even more animated, his grin turning distinctly sleazy. “Ever since this inspector arrived, she brings him a drink every single day. I’ve never seen our cute little secretary care about anyone like this before~~”

  “If you’re that free,” Yan Qing said, shaking his head, “help me finish this grant application.”

  “…Uh—bathroom.” Chris instantly bolted, greased lightning.

  Watching his coworker’s absurd running posture, Yan Qing couldn’t help laughing. “Honestly… this guy.”

  “Good afternoon, Professor.”

  At that moment, the secretary who had just been at the inspector’s door passed Yan Qing’s desk and greeted him politely.

  “Afternoon,” Yan Qing replied, nodding with a courteous smile.

  She continued on, heading toward the exit.

  But… now that he thought about it—

  Shirley’s gait looked a little unfamiliar.

  Yan Qing’s eyes followed her back, unconsciously studying her.

  It was oddly similar to how Chen walked: elegant, almost like a runway line—graceful, yet carrying an undercurrent of authority.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Was it just his imagination?

  Yan Qing forced himself to look away.

  Probably.

  Twenty-four hours later — West Coast

  [Team Nine, Team Nine, proceed to Sector XX for immediate support! Repeat—Team Nine, Team Nine…]

  Desolation.

  Chaos.

  The city looked like a battlefield after the war. Streets and alleys were filled with groans, crying, screams—layered over the ruins like a chorus of suffering.

  “Boss Lanice! I’m here!”

  A young soldier in an army uniform sprinted toward another serviceman.

  Beneath a slab of concrete and rubble, a child—no more than ten—sobbed uncontrollably, half her body pinned under collapsed cement.

  With both arms straining, the lieutenant, sweat pouring from the high bridge of his nose, used a length of rebar as leverage, trying to pry the debris away.

  “Aiden—on my count. One. Two. Three—push!”

  Working together, they shifted the concrete just enough. Aiden seized the moment and pulled the girl free, lifting her into his arms.

  “Mommy—!” The child, injured and terrified, cried snot and tears, twisting in the soldier’s grip, searching desperately for her mother.

  Lanice and Aiden exchanged a look. Finally, the lieutenant let out a helpless sigh.

  “Get her to the temporary medical station first.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Aiden replied immediately, pivoted, and jumped into a military jeep with the child, driving hard toward the nearest aid point.

  Lanice watched the jeep vanish around a corner. Then he turned back, jaw tight, scanning what used to be a bustling business district.

  Now the city lay broken. Gray smoke climbed into the air, blotting out the blood-red sun.

  “What… happened?” he murmured.

  Today was supposed to be normal. Like every other day in the familiar loop.

  But without warning, the ground had begun to convulse.

  A magnitude-13 earthquake—strongest in human history.

  And the epicenter was inside a city packed with hundreds of thousands of people.

  Countless lives were lost. Tens of thousands were buried alive beneath the gleaming towers they’d once been proud of.

  Even with the military mobilized, there was only so much they could do.

  Then Lanice spotted something that didn’t belong.

  A teenage boy, and a golden retriever nearly waist-high, wandering aimlessly through the rubble-strewn street.

  “Hey!” Lanice strode toward him. “Are you okay?”

  The boy stopped, his back still to the soldier.

  Lanice noticed strange blue stains on his clothes—torn, ruined fabric—and asked with concern, “Are you hurt?”

  The boy turned slowly, as if he’d only just realized someone was speaking to him.

  Lanice’s breath caught.

  Half of the boy’s face was mangled beyond recognition. Where his left eye should have been was a hollow cavity—muscle and torn tissue exposed, grotesque.

  And from that wound, a golden liquid poured steadily.

  The boy looked the stunned soldier up and down. The intact half of his face formed a casual, indifferent expression.

  “What do you think?” he said.

  Lanice’s eyes widened. His memory snapped back—parallel universe, the eerie ship corridors, the monsters—

  And the monster’s owner.

  “You’re the one from back then—”

  “Oh.” The boy recognized him too, and smiled. “It’s you. What a coincidence.”

  “Why are you on Earth?!” Lanice demanded.

  “Mission,” the boy said lightly. “Finished it already.” He glanced at the shattered skyline. “It looks bad, but you should thank me.”

  Lanice stared. “What are you talking about?”

  “I mean—” the boy rubbed his nose like a kid trying to look cute. “If I hadn’t destroyed the power engine in time, this quake would’ve split the entire state in half.”

  “This earthquake has something to do with the Teleopeans?” Lanice’s face hardened, his already sharp features tightening into something intimidating.

  The golden retriever beside the boy bared its teeth at Lanice, sensing hostility toward its master.

  “Quiet, Little Bubbles,” the boy soothed, running a blood-smeared hand over the dog’s fur. Then he looked back at Lanice. “Not us. The Fenreiga.”

  “The who?”

  “Call Yan Qing,” the boy said, with an exhausted shrug. “He’ll explain everything. I’m just a kid, okay?”

  Lanice didn’t respond.

  The boy pointed at the empty socket where his eye had been. “Can I go now? It hurts.”

  The bleeding had already stopped. Flesh was slowly regenerating, knitting itself back together. If the enemy’s weapon had been off by one more degree, it would’ve hit his biological core.

  Watching that kind of injury heal like it was nothing, Lanice suddenly felt wrong letting him wander the ruins like this.

  He dug through his pocket, pulled out a roll of spare gauze, and called out, “Lan.”

  “Hm?”

  “…Let me bandage you,” Lanice said.

  The boy blinked. “Why?”

  “Because if you walk around like this, you’ll scare normal people to death,” Lanice answered honestly. “You scared the hell out of me.”

  Lan pressed his lips together, silent.

  “Well?” Lanice asked.

  The intact corner of Lan’s mouth lifted. A half-smile—ambiguous, unreadable.

  Then he nodded, and in a childish voice that didn’t match the horror of his face, he said:

  “Then… thank you, soldier uncle.”