Zenless Zone Zero
New Eridu — the former site of the Black Goose construction grounds.
Night fell like a massive velvet cloth dusted with coal ash, pressing down heavy and low. The bustling, boiling worksite from daytime had gone to sleep; only the steel skeletons remained, casting enormous, silent silhouettes under the moon.
The air still held the smell of dust not yet settled, the faint metallic tang of cooling iron, and the salty bitterness of sweat after it evaporates.
The poor hearts wrung dry by labor in the day finally had room to rest—along with their thoughts, which seemed washed in night and softened into a hazy, exhausted glow.
Koleda sat alone high up on a thick horizontal beam.
Cold metal seeped through thin fabric. Her slender legs dangled in midair, swinging unconsciously—like reeds swaying in wind.
Below, workers drifted and scattered under the dim yellow streetlights. Arms slung over shoulders, burden finally off, they laughed loudly and argued cheerfully about which stall to hit for food, or where to catch a night breeze and shake the fatigue out of their bones. Sweat stains spread dark maps across their workwear, but their faces wore the simple, satisfied smiles of people who'd made it through another day.
Koleda's mouth curved without meaning to.
Then the smile—like a stone dropped into deep water—made only a shallow ripple before sinking fast.
The corners of her lips fell, leaving something quiet and lonely behind.
Just then, the creak of an old lift mechanism rasped behind her—metal grinding, slightly rusted—breaking the hush up high.
A taut cable sound, then slack again, sharp in the night.
Koleda didn't turn around. She only let her gaze sink deeper into the worksite below—theirs, yet somehow not quite hers.
"Ben… I told you. I'm fine. You don't need to comfort me." Her voice rode the wind coolly, carrying a deliberate calm.
"And you—earlier you were hiding in a corner wiping your eyes, weren't you? That's not like you. Don't worry. I'm not that fragile."
Footsteps came closer.
Light. Familiar. Careful, like someone testing whether they're allowed to exist in her space.
Those weren't Ben's steps—bear Thirens don't get to walk softly; their strength makes weight inevitable.
Koleda sighed silently, still stubbornly refusing to look back. Her eyes locked on the patchy lights and the steadily emptying ground below, as if staring hard enough could drain every thought out of her.
Her voice dipped, edged with distance—pushing the world away.
"Anton… if it's you, you don't need to come either. Earlier, my argument with Grace was just because I couldn't accept Belobog and that person getting tangled together again."
She paused, tone shifting into something cool and official—yet fatigue leaked through the seams.
"But Grace is right. The logic core inside the prototype is extremely valuable to Belobog right now. As Belobog's president, I won't let feelings override reason—I won't refuse to recover it. So you can stop worrying and go."
And yet the footsteps didn't stop.
They came closer—steadier.
And with them drifted an extremely faint, unmistakably distinct herbal scent—like spring shoots breaking through soil—quietly mixing into the cold steel air.
Koleda's small nose twitched before she could help it.
A tiny flicker crossed her eyes.
She buried it under exaggerated irritation.
"Still not talking?" She raised her voice a little, a stubborn pout in it. "Then it's you, Grace, isn't it? If you think I'm going to be childish and refuse to speak to you, you're underestimating me."
She straightened her thin spine as if declaring it to the world.
"I'm not a kid anymore. I'm an adult!"
"Hey! Seriously, Grace—say something!" Anxiety and grievance slipped into her voice despite her best effort. "Don't make me talk to myself like some unwanted child. I'm—"
The sentence died.
Silence wrapped it up like a warm nest.
And just as her emotions threatened to surge—
arms circled her from behind.
The night wind's faint chill clung to them, but the hold itself was impossibly gentle—firm in a way that settled her.
The hug was sudden, and somehow deeply familiar.
Koleda froze.
She stared ahead, stunned by the sensation of someone's warmth and heartbeat through layers of cloth.
For a moment, time congealed.
Wind brushed her hair, cold against her skin.
At last, her tight shoulders loosened.
Her head dipped slightly. A few strands slid over her cheek.
Her voice came out like a sigh—carrying a dependency she didn't realize she had already surrendered.
"Why did you come…?"
"Grace asked me to," the boy behind her answered, bright and honest. "She said you were in a bad mood so I—unh—!"
The sentence snapped into a short yelp.
Koleda, mortified and furious, found the soft spot at his waist—his worst ticklish weakness—with perfect accuracy. Her small hand pinched and twisted.
The boy sucked in a sharp breath, eyes nearly watering, a muffled groan leaking out in pain and surprise.
"Seriously—are you that honest?!" Koleda whipped around. Moonlight lit her slightly flushed cheeks and her eyes—half indignant, half wounded.
She released the poor soft flesh, clenched her hands into tiny fists, and pounded his chest—not hard, but with the satisfaction of scolding someone who deserved it.
"You had to say it that straight? Why couldn't you just say you wanted to check on me? If it's 'Grace told you to come,' then if Grace didn't tell you, you wouldn't come at all? Is Grace more important to you than me?"
"Or do you think I'm not worth coming for?"
She stared up at him like a bristling little animal, accusing him of being completely tone-deaf.
Qianye only looked at her in silence.
Moonlight washed over his silver hair and those jade-green eyes. He looked innocent—lost—like he genuinely didn't understand which line he'd stepped over.
Then—
before her grievance even finished falling—
a warmer, tighter embrace pulled her in again.
This time it was from the front. No hesitation, no holding back.
Strong arms wrapped around her waist and shoulders, clumsy but sincere—comfort that didn't ask permission.
"Because you won't tell me," he said. "You won't show weakness. That's why I asked Grace to call me when you're upset."
"Koleda… as Belobog's in-house doctor, I have a duty to be responsible for you."
"Hmph." Koleda tried to keep her pride. "So it's just because I pay you a salary, and that's why you came, is it? Then you—"
"Mm." Qianye's expression stayed earnest. "If you don't like 'Belobog's doctor,' then I'll say it another way."
"You're Belobog's president. In other words… Belobog belongs to you."
He watched her eyes flicker, watched the blush climb as if she'd realized what he was about to do—and he spoke softly, almost matter-of-fact:
"So I belong to you."
"Is that better? Are you satisfied?"
Satisfied?!
Koleda's brain screamed first.
You're treating me like a child!
That's such an old trick—who would fall for that?!
I'm an adult, okay?! I'm not that easy to placate!
What came out of her mouth was something else entirely—small, stubborn, and painfully honest:
"You always say things like they're just facts… I don't know what to do with you, Qianye."
Curled in his arms, she shivered as the high wind turned cold again, and she instinctively tucked herself even deeper into his warmth.
Qianye hesitated, then spoke carefully.
"Um… Koleda… can we go down? It's dangerous up here."
"With you next to me, how could it be dangerous?" Koleda grumbled. "Or… you don't trust me?"
But when she saw his slightly pale face, her heart softened. The fight drained out of her.
"…Fine. Let's go down."
"I wanted you to see the view I always look at up here…"
"Mm. It's okay." Qianye sounded relieved. "We'll have plenty of time to look together later."
"But tonight isn't suitable for a sad girl."
"A sad girl needs somewhere warm… and a bowl of hot ramen… so her body and heart can warm up."
He turned, letting Koleda hop out of his arms, then straightened.
Koleda glanced up at the stupid little cowlick on top of his head and clicked her tongue with open irritation.
"If it weren't for that cowlick, you wouldn't even be much taller than me, idiot doctor."
"Yes, yes." He humored her easily. "Stubborn grown-up. Sorry my cowlick is taller than you."
"Alright—Sixth Street ramen? I'll pay."
"Hmph. You're the doctor and you're my employee—how can I let you pay?" Koleda lifted her chin. "The president pays."
"Don't you dare refuse. That's an order."
"Okay, okay." Qianye smiled. "Thank you, President."
"…And thank you too, Qianye." Her last words were so quiet they barely counted as sound.
The lift creaked again as it started up, carrying the two of them down from the heights—leaning close, bickering and laughing—into the warmer glow below.
Down below, in a corner completely swallowed by the shadow of a massive abandoned steel structure—
Grace stood like a cold statue.
Her back pressed hard against rough metal that felt like it wanted to seep into bone.
Her fingers clenched a phone whose screen had already gone dark. She held it so tightly her knuckles blanched, trembling faintly.
On the screen, the record of a message—I'm here—burned like a taunting brand into her vision.
She tilted her head back, the back of her skull grinding into steel, as if pain could suppress the storm inside her chest.
Night wind lifted her neat short hair, strands sticking messily to her taut forehead.
Moonlight was stingy. It illuminated only the bloodless line of her pressed lips, and the jaw clenched so hard it looked ready to crack.
Her eyes—usually sharp, hungry for answers—were dulled now, filmed with gray.
They stayed locked on the distant pair.
Watching Koleda slip naturally into Qianye's warmth.
Watching her hit him, scold him, laugh again, light returning to her face—
a light that should have been…
A thought like a poisoned thorn stabbed into Grace's heart, squeezing her breath into a dull, suffocating ache.
She shut her eyes hard, lashes shaking, trying to block out the picture.
After a long time, a breath—crushed down until it broke—escaped her teeth.
She opened her eyes again.
The depth in them was pitch-dark, and something molten churned there.
Unwillingness.
Not resigned.
Not accepting.
She watched them disappear into the lift. Their voices—soft, teasing, warm—pierced her ears like needles.
She lowered her gaze to her own fingers, white with force, spasming slightly.
Her mouth pulled upward—slow, difficult—trying to assemble the flawless arc of the "Iron Witch."
Every tug felt like tearing.
What emerged wasn't composure.
It was a twisted smile full of bitterness and self-mockery.
"Seriously…" she rasped, voice like sandpaper. Every word tasted faintly of iron. "Going out at a time like this…"
A short, humorless scoff.
"…That would be so tactless, wouldn't it?"
Was she asking herself?
Or fate?
"It was my decision… wasn't it…?"
She raised a hand—not to wipe gently, but to grind her knuckle hard across the corner of her eye. The motion was rough, almost punitive. A red mark flared briefly on her skin.
"I'm the 'Iron Witch,'" she murmured.
Yet her gaze still chased the two figures as they turned a corner and vanished into city light.
Inside that gaze: pain too thick to dilute, jealousy that burned, protection she refused to name—
and a loneliness she absolutely would not admit.
"Not… a 'tactless witch.'"
She stood rigid in the cold shadow, like forgotten wreckage of a war machine.
Wind screamed through the steel forest of the site, making a sound like mourning—
but it couldn't drown out the violent, wordless roar inside her chest.
Only when the two silhouettes were swallowed completely by the city—gone as if they'd never existed—did the site's emptiness surge up like icy floodwater and drown her.
The cold that followed was sharper than metal.
Silence bred wildly in the dark.
Finally, Grace drew in a heavy breath that sounded obscene in the stillness.
Like a beast driven to the edge, she erupted with her last reserve of force.
She stopped looking at the empty street.
She turned away—decisive, almost vicious—and stormed toward the workshop that belonged to her, the one whose work lights were always on.
Her metal heels hammered the concrete.
Click. Clack. Click. Clack.
Each step was heavy, as if she meant to crush the ground—and the unwillingness with it.
The lonely, angry echo rang out across the hollow worksite and refused to die.
Bang.
She shoved the workshop's iron door open hard enough for it to slam into the wall.
Harsh white light spilled out in a brutal sheet, tearing the darkness at the entrance apart and lighting up the cold aggression and hidden hurt still clinging to her face.
In that light, her shadow stretched long and warped.
She didn't hesitate.
She went straight to the cold workbench, grabbed a half-finished part—sharp-edged—and pressed her thumb against its icy surface, as if only cold could cool the blood boiling inside her.
She picked up a file.
Her motion was precise, fast—too hard, too relentless, the edge of pure venting.
Scrraaape—!
Metal screamed under the file.
Sparks burst under the glaring lamps, flaring bright enough to outline her tight mouth and the complicated fire burning in her eyes.
That bright workshop light—like an island made of unwillingness and protection—glowed stubbornly at the edge of the empty site.
Join here to read ahead.
In Star Rail, Ultra-Beast Armored — Have I Caught "Equilibrium"? l (Chapter 80)
Uma Musume, But I Only Have Five Years Left to Live (Chapter 175)
Zenless Zone Zero: I'm a Doctor, Not a Bangboo (Chapter 115)
Ben Tennyson Wants to Join the Justice League (Chapter 126)
TYPE-MOON: Redemption Beginning with the Holy Grail War (Chapter105)
Yu-Gi-Oh! — Transmigrated into the White Dragon Girl (Chapter100)
"Is this chat group even serious?" (Chapter82)
I, Lord Ravager, Utterly Loyal! (Chapter134)
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Crossover Anime Multiverse: The Demon Hunter of an Unnatural World 70
From Junkman to Wasteland 66
Weekly Refresh of Overpowered 31
I'm Grinding Proficiency Like 46
From Kiana, Lord Ravager, Onwa 87
Honkai: Is This Still the Prev 42
Elf: My Starter Pokémon Is Inc 65
Warhammer: My Primarch Is Remi 79
From Demon Slayer to Grand Ass 64
The Way the Umamusume Look at 68
Uma Musume, but My Cheat Power 73
Naruto: Weaving the Future, Be 45
Zenless Zone Zero, but Kamen R 49
Multiverse Crossover: The Perf 45
My Cyberpsycho Girlfriend 45
Uma Musume: The Dark Trainer 31
Uma Musume: A Calamity Born fr 27
I, a Reincarnation-Loop Player 26
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