Elarion's POV
"Why… What's happening?"
I rub my eyes slowly.
My surroundings are blurry at first, but then—clear as day—I realize I'm in my room.
But… not that room.
Not the old one.
I look at the wall calendar and nearly fall back.
2037.
I'm back in the future.
I stumble out of bed and walk over to the window. My hands tremble slightly as I pull the curtains aside. Skyscrapers stretch across the skyline, cars hover along magnetic roads, and drones buzz in the morning air. The familiar cold metallic breeze brushes my face.
This… is real.
I remember. I came home after the Hirata incident at the office. That should've been yesterday.
So then…
Was it all just a dream?
The past… my parents… my childhood home… high school… Ayase… that girl… the one who stabbed me—
But how?
How can I remember every single detail so vividly?
If it were just a dream… shouldn't it have faded by now?
My thoughts are interrupted by the buzz of a message. I grab my phone.
It's from the office group chat.
> HR: "Today is an important meeting. Please bring your documents on your annual performance."
Right.
The office.
Back to this pathetic life.
I slip into my dull gray office attire, knot my tie loosely, and book a cab.
Ten minutes later, it arrives.
---
[Time Skip – Office]
As I walk into the building, my head throbs. That "dream" is still so clear, and it won't stop echoing in my mind.
Everything feels robotic now.
My body moves on autopilot.
Fingers type without my permission.
I glance up at the rooftop—the same place where Hirata jumped.
I almost forgot that.
Why did he jump?
He was a hardworking guy. Talked often about marrying Alice, his girlfriend from HR.
He didn't seem like someone who'd just give up.
I take my seat and open my laptop. I still have some time before the meeting begins.
Sniff… sniff.
"Oh Alice, I'm so sorry for your loss… He was such a good boyfriend," says our manager—a balding old man trying to sound gentle.
"Yeah… we're with you," chirps Rin, the ever-cheerful one in the office.
Too cheerful, if I'm being honest.
Unnaturally so. I wonder why...
"Thank you, guys. That… that means a lot," Alice says softly, brushing her blonde hair from her face. Her makeup is smudged, her expression hollow.
---
A few minutes later, we're all gathered in the meeting room. I sit quietly, head pounding. I pop a couple of painkillers from my pocket and sip water.
Our boss, Jo—a large, aging man with a permanent fake smile—clears his throat.
"So, everyone," he begins, "our company is doing decent thanks to your efforts."
He pauses dramatically, looking at us with rehearsed seriousness.
"But there's always room for improvement. So I've decided to increase your growth hours—to help you develop personally and professionally."
We all know what that really means.
More working hours.
We're already at 52 a week.
"U-um, sir," Carlos speaks up hesitantly, "we're already working long hours. And the performance data shows improvement. Isn't that enough?"
Jo's smile twitches, annoyed—but he masks it quickly.
"I understand," he says smoothly, "but to stay competitive in this economy, we must give our best. I care about your well-being. You get free meals and can even work in the rooftop garden."
He grins like a merchant selling poison as medicine.
Carlos tries to speak again. "But… that's not enough. We're not satisfied. We need…"
He trails off.
He doesn't know how to say it.
In 2037, people have forgotten how to express emotional turmoil.
Everyone suffers silently.
Robots in human skin.
"You need what, Carlos?" Jo asks with a raised brow. "If any of you need something, you can tell me."
But nobody speaks.
Not because they're fine—
But because they want salary hikes.
I don't blame them.
Inflation is brutal.
Carlos, defeated, sits down.
"Well then," Jo concludes, "submit your work files. I hope the soft copies are already uploaded."
Everyone submits. So do I.
Jo walks around, shaking hands. When he reaches Carlos, he gives him an extra-firm, almost threatening grip.
Carlos winces slightly.
---
After everyone leaves, I realize I forgot my pills on the meeting table.
I go back.
And what I see…
My eyes widen.
Alice. In Jo's lap. Kissing him.
They both freeze when they notice me.
I snatch my pills and turn to leave.
"Wait," Jo calls out. "You're Elarion, right? You're the quiet one."
He chuckles darkly.
"The quiet ones are always the most dangerous. No one truly knows them until it's too late."
His eyes narrow.
"If you tell anyone what you saw, you're out. Fired."
I nod, frozen.
Now I understand why Hirata jumped…
Or maybe… he didn't jump at all.
Maybe he was…
Murdered.
My throat tightens. I hate this.
I hate myself.
---
[Time Skip – 7 PM]
I'm standing by the curb, waiting for my taxi.
My mind replays everything.
Jo. Alice. Hirata. The soulless office. The vivid dream. Ayase.
Suddenly, I see an old woman ahead drop her purse.
"Excuse me… You dropped this," I call, handing it to her.
"Oh, thank you, dear," she says, patting my head kindly. "Such a nice young man."
I smile faintly.
But then—
BANG!
Gunfire.
My eyes widen in horror.
The grandmother falls—blood pooling beneath her.
She's… gone.
Why? Who—?!
Before I can move—
BANG!
Another shot. The bullet whizzes past my ear.
They're after me.
I sprint, ducking into a narrow alley.
Why now?
Why this?
I didn't tell anyone about Jo and Alice!
Who's behind this?!
I emerge onto another road—
Three men in black suits stand in my path.
They pull out their guns—
BANG! BANG!
Bullets slice past me again. But—
Someone collapses behind me.
A man with a coat. A gun. A katana.
He was following me?
He was the one shooting?!
I barely have time to react when one of the suited men steps forward.
"Sir, you need to come with us."
"W-who are you people?" I try to act brave, but my voice cracks.
"We're not your enemies… not yet," he says. "So please cooperate."
They nudge me into a black Rolls-Royce.
I have no choice.
---
[Time Skip – Unknown Mansion]
The mansion is huge—gothic in design with flickering chandeliers, oil paintings, and a fireplace crackling beside a library.
An elderly butler greets me with a bow.
"Welcome, sir. Ma'am is waiting for you."
I follow him to a grand drawing room.
Bookshelves cover the walls, and a fireplace lights the space with a golden glow.
Suddenly, a calm yet commanding voice echoes from the shadows.
"Well, well, well… The pawn finally moved two squares."
---
To be continued...
---