A small metallic panel was fixed into the wall.
Minimal.
Cold.
Almost surgical in design.
A single port waited in the center.
He stood there with the envelope in his hand.
His heartbeat was loud.
Too loud.
His throat burned as if he had swallowed acid.
He unwrapped the envelope slowly.
The drive slipped into his palm.
He looked up.
Closed his eyes.
Took a long breath.
Walked toward the port.
But his body felt heavier with every step.
Memories attacked him.
Her laughter on their wedding day.
Her fingers tangled in his.
The warmth of nights they shared.
Her head resting on his chest.
The soft kisses.
The quiet promises.
The drive slipped from his trembling fingers and fell to the floor with a small, hollow sound.
His eyes went unfocused.
He staggered to the door.
Pressed his forehead against it.
His fist began tapping against the wood.
Soft at first.
Then harder.
Not in rage.
In disbelief.
He looked back at the drive on the floor.
Sat down.
Just sat there.
The clock passed 3.
He was still staring at it.
Finally, he stood.
Walked to the kitchen without making a sound.
Took a glass.
Took a bottle.
Before he even returned to the room, the bottle was half empty.
Yet his steps were steady.
Too steady.
As if the alcohol couldn't reach where the damage was.
He didn't even pour the drink.
The glass remained clean.
Untouched.
He picked up the drive.
Walked to the port.
Inserted it.
A screen projected onto the wall.
And then,he saw it.
The man he had dedicated his intellect to.
The leader he admired.
The one he built cities for.
The one who stood one step ahead of him in every photograph.
That man was with his wife.
She was laughing.
Playful.
Running her fingers across his back.
Giggling.
The bottle slipped from his hand and shattered on the floor.
A scream tore out of him.
Raw.
Animal.
But it stayed inside the room.
Outside, nothing moved.
In the bedroom down the hall, his wife was on the phone.
Laughing.
Light.
Carefree.
Inside this room,he collapsed.
Not like a powerful man.
Not like a strategist.
Like a child.
Like a toddler who just discovered the world isn't safe.
His shoulders shook violently.
Tears ran down his face uncontrollably.
His breathing became uneven, desperate, broken.
He kept looking at the screen.
Then at the framed photo of her on the wall.
Then back at the screen.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Trying to find a difference.
Trying to convince himself it was someone else.
Trying to locate a mistake.
But the smile was the same.
The way she tilted her head.
The small dimple when she laughed.
It was her.
His wife.
The woman he trusted with his back.
His home.
His future.
And the betrayal wasn't just physical.
It was layered.
It was intellectual.
It was political.
It was humiliation.
The man on that screen wasn't just a lover.
He was the symbol of everything.
Power.
Influence.
Public admiration.
The man who stood slightly forward in every picture.
The man the people believed in.
The night soaked into him.
He didn't stop crying.
By the time the clock hit 6,his tears had dried on his face.
His eyes were hollow.
The door opened.
"Darling," she said cheerfully. "Are you up?"
She walked in.
"Why don't we go to a motel tonight?"
Her voice playful.
She stopped.
He was sitting on the floor.
Back against the wall.
A soft smile on his lips.
Not warm.
Not angry.
Empty.
The video was still playing on the wall behind him.
She looked at the screen.
And for the first time,her laughter stopped.
...
The clock ticked 7.
Soft morning light filtered through the cracked window, falling across Clare's pale skin. The faint tattoo along the left side of her stomach curved like a signature only she understood.
She blinked once.
Her sight was steady now.
In front of her, Kal was asleep against the wall. Head tilted. Arms loosely folded. "He must have stayed up watching me."
There were no clothes left on the bed.
For a second, she simply observed him.
Then Kal stirred.
His eyes opened,and immediately focused on her.
Relief washed over his face.
"I'm glad you're fine," he said softly, voice still heavy from sleep. "I still can't imagine how you managed to live alone like this… I was really worried."
He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.
"But I guess if everything ends well… the start doesn't matter, right?"
His smile was gentle.
Warm.
Almost… tender.
And then something shifted.
Instead of the usual scared or defensive nature, Kal's posture softened. He turned slightly away,not in fear,but in modesty. He grabbed the nearest cloth and held it out looking directly at her.
"Here… you'll catch a cold again," he muttered.
He spoke in a softer tone now. Fussing.
"You should sit properly. Don't just sit like that. You just recovered. And your hair ,wait..."
Without thinking, he reached toward her shoulder and lightly brushed a strand of hair away from her face.
The gesture was careful.
Instinctive.
Protective in a way that didn't feel masculine.
More like a girl gently adjusting her friend before scolding her.
"You're terrible at taking care of yourself," he added under his breath. "At least pretend to rest."
Clare stood up.
Kal froze.
He didn't realize it.
The next second,SLAP.
The sound cracked through the room.
Before he could react,she kicked him straight out into the hallway.
The door slammed shut.
Kal lay flat on the dirty corridor floor.
"…Bitch, what's her problem?"
He rubbed his cheek.
"Is she some kind of idiot?"
He paused.
"Shit. I can't believe I'm using bad words so often."
He stood up slowly, limping to his room.
"Damn it… I should have left her like that."
His voice softened.
"Thinking well of people and acting on it only brings trouble. I should have known better."
"I should have learned from my own mistakes."
"Just look at what that bastard did to me." The blood-soaked floor flashes in her mind again.
"If this is the price of being kind, then to hell with kindness."
The memory hit him hard.
He clenched his fist and punched the floor once.
Inside his bathroom, he stared at himself in the cracked mirror.
"What the hell, why is there hair on my face? It's so itchy..."
He scratched at his jaw, grimacing.
Then he paused.
He sniffed himself cautiously.
A faint, salty smell drifted up from under his arms.
"Ugh… seriously?"
His stomach twisted.
And then,
He stiffened.
Down there felt… wrong.
Tight.
Unfamiliar.
A dull ache.
Something pressing awkwardly against his pants.
A strange tingling he couldn't ignore.
His face drained of color.
"No. No, no, no…"
He blinked.
Then his eyes widened.
"Fuck. I forgot. I'm a boy now."
His face went pale.
"Wait… did she misunderstand?"
He covered his mouth.
"Even if she didn't… that's always the problem. A man who doesn't know a girl sees her without clothes..."
He stepped back.
"Will she kill me?"
Silence.
"No… if she wanted to, she would have."
He slid down against the wall and sat on the floor.
Breathed in.
Deep.
Slow.
"I'll stay," he whispered. "Let's see what happens."
A smell reached him.
Breakfast.
He stood up immediately.
And walked out like a dog following food.
In the kitchen, Clare stood wearing the apron. Calm. Composed.
Two plates of omelet and bread were already on the table.
She sat.
Kal sat opposite her.
He tried to act normal.
Whenever he felt she might look at him, he quickly stared at his omelet.
"Pass the salt," she said flatly.
He grabbed a small container and handed it over.
It hit his face.
"Ouch!"
"Idiot. Salt. Not pepper."
He blinked.
So her sight was fully back.
While receiving the correct one, she added calmly, "Don't worry. I won't kill you. At least not yet."
Relief flooded him.
He took a big bite of omelet.
"Mmph,what do you mean spare me? I saved your life, bitch."
Bits of omelet slipped from the corner of his mouth.
He swallowed.
"I'm really using bad words again…"
Clare looked at him.
Quietly.
Then asked in an almost pleasant tone, "Did you call me a bitch?"
Kal's fork slipped from his fingers and clattered onto the plate.
She smiled.
Genuinely this time.
"Man… you really are easy to read, brat."
Her eyes rested on him,not hostile.
Not soft either.
Just aware.
Kal suddenly felt a strange tingling in his chest.
He let out an awkward laugh.
"Can you… read my mind?"
Clare smiled while cutting the bread.
"Yes," she said casually. "If you think something funny, I guess I'll have to tell you what to think and what not to."
Kal's eye twitched.
"Ridiculous. That's impossible. If she could read minds, she would've known I'm actually a woman inside. And quite honestly… a bigger bitch than her."
Clare turned slightly.
Kal froze.
She didn't say anything.
Just smiled faintly.
The water from the tap ran steadily as she washed the dishes. Meanwhile, Kal went to take a bath.
When he returned, a new pair of trousers and a plain t-shirt were neatly placed on the metallic bed.
He stared at them for a second.
"…She went out to buy these?"
He wore them quietly.
The clock ticked 9.
They walked to the open field in front of the broken church.
Clare stood with her hands folded behind her back.
Her voice was calm.
"After awakening your PBV, you can use your ability. But that doesn't mean you've mastered PBV. Or your ability. You've only scratched the surface."
She stepped closer.
"Do you remember what your ability is?"
Kal inhaled.
As the image of Kal slipping into the shadows flashed through his mind.
He crouched down.
A shimmer wrapped around his body as he activated PBV. The air around him distorted slightly.
Slowly, he placed his hand over his shadow.
He pressed down.
His fingers sank into it.
Like touching water.
"Oh my God… it's really happening.
I can't believe this."
He turned to Clare , she was already staring at him.
"Miss Clare, look!" he shouted. "Look ,my hands… they're going into the shadow. Do you see it? Look!"
Clare's eyes widened.
Kal pushed further,his arm sliding deeper into the dark surface.
Then,a violent push.
He was thrown backward as the shimmer shattered around him.
He hit the ground.
For a moment,he felt nothing.
No hands.
No legs.
No weight.
As if his body didn't exist.
Only awareness.
Then Clare's voice pierced through.
"You are not ready."
His senses slowly returned.
She tossed him a water bottle.
"First, improve your stamina. Prolong your PBV activation with stable output."
After he rested, she took a stance.
"Activate it again."
Both of them shimmered.
Clare spoke again.
"I don't need to teach you enhancement. You've already used that instinctively. Right?"
Kal nodded.
"Yes."
"Then feel it."
The shimmer around Clare disappeared,no,
It compressed.
It squeezed inward, condensing into her arms.
The air around her fists vibrated.
Kal stared.
"What does that do?"
Clare tilted her head.
"Have you ever used toothpaste until it's almost empty?"
"…Yes."
"And then tried to squeeze out the last bit?"
Kal smiled slightly.
"I push everything to one end with something hard… then squeeze it all out."
"Exactly."
Understanding flashed in his eyes.
"So… concentrate all output into one point."
He inhaled sharply.
His body trembled as he forced the energy inward.
It felt like pushing something heavy through a narrow place.
He gritted his teeth and let out a strained sound,the shimmer drained from his entire body and gathered into his fist.
The air around it distorted violently.
His body, however, looked pale and hollow.
"I can defeat someone with one blow," he muttered.
Then he looked down.
His body felt empty.
Weak.
Unprotected.
He dismissed PBV immediately.
Clare stepped closer.
"Power without fundamentals is suicide."
Her tone was cold.
"First learn how to fight. Once your body understands violence, your PBV will grow naturally."
She looked at him straight in the eyes.
"And I will make it hell for you."
Her voice had no emotion.
"I'll drop you in front of mobs. Drug dealers. Cult followers. You have to defeat them without using PBV."
Kal felt a chill crawl up his spine.
"And if I don't?" he asked quietly.
Clare's lips curved faintly.
"Well then, thank you for the company. I really enjoyed it."
There was no threat in her tone.
No anger.
No cruelty.
That made it worse.
Kal swallowed.