I literally pop into my living room.

  Roka and Felmina send their tea and biscuits flying.

  “I’m back.”

  Ah.

  They’ve both passed out. I must have really scared them.

  I lift them one by one and lay them gently on the couch before sitting down myself. My ribs throb dully. I pull out an HP potion and drink it.

  …Right. My HP was already full.

  Past full, actually.

  I just wasted a potion.

  I set the empty bottle down beside the case containing the syringes and stare at it. My thoughts drift.

  Management.

  How can they know all these things? Why would they help me? Are they actually helping me? How was I supposed to be the one who destroys the world?

  I glance at the two unconscious women beside me.

  I need to keep them safe.

  But is that even possible without their help?

  Roka stirs.

  “Mmm…”

  Felmina is still out cold.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “Ryu… you’re back… but how did you—?”

  “Sorry about that. I wasn’t expecting to come here when I used the orb.”

  Felmina wakes shortly after, straightening herself with practiced dignity.

  “Don’t scare us like that.”

  “I’m sorry. Forgive me.”

  I bow my head.

  “Felmina, it’s not his fault,” Roka says.

  Felmina fidgets.

  “O-Okay.”

  “Look,” I say, exhaling slowly. “Today was one hell of a trip for all of us. In a few weeks, you’ll need to take those injections. It won’t be fun—but you’ll survive. We need to prepare ourselves.”

  Roka’s face pales.

  “Can we trust Management? Is there really nothing else we can do? Like arresting the chefs right now?”

  I think it over carefully.

  “Honestly? I don’t think we can. If we act early, we might trigger a chain of events I can’t protect you from. Management—whoever they are—intervened because we have a common interest. They need me right now. But if we go off-script and one of you gets hurt… there’s no guarantee they’ll help us again.”

  A blue light suddenly fills the room.

  It’s coming from the paper I gave them earlier.

  I stand, retrieve it, and flip it over.

  Letters slowly appear.

  ‘You are correct.’

  I show them.

  They shiver.

  So do I.

  I sit down between them and pull them close, ignoring the sharp pain in my ribs.

  “You both trust me, right?”

  “We do.”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t know exactly what’s going to happen,” I admit, “but I believe this is the best course of action.”

  I hug them as tightly as my ribs allow.

  We stay like that until dinnertime.

  It only hurts when I breathe.

  ---

  One Week, Four Days Later

  We went through with the plan.

  They were violently sick the night of the poisoning—most of it came back up. The next day, both of them remained bedridden.

  I tested the leftover food from that night. I didn’t eat my portion, for obvious reasons. From then on, I prepared all my own meals.

  I had the chefs arrested and interrogated. I caught the other spy who had threatened them.

  In the end, I fired and banished the chefs—but let them go free.

  As for David, Cindy, their thirteen employees, and the other spy—James—I released them as well, after the message from the Masters Company arrived.

  They went pale when I sat down across from David, Cindy, and James while they read Nelson’s letters.

  By the end, they couldn’t wait to leave.

  They all departed that same night.