Chapter 9 – A Bad Way to De-Stress

Lyon was sitting in front of his laptop with a face that, if someone had entered the apartment at that moment, would have made them think he was planning a murder.

On the screen, his university friends’ group chat wouldn’t stop moving.

[JuanPa]: hahahahaha lyon tell us you bought it already plssss

[Marce]: I heard that if you bought it they dropped the whole store on top of you while you were inside

[JuanPa]: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

[Kevin]: guys I’m already at the second boss, this thing is hard as hell

[Marce]: oh did you already get to the twist with that character?

[Kevin]: YESSSSS I can’t believe it, when it turns out the mentor was actually the—

Lyon squeezed his eyes shut and scrolled up as fast as he could so he wouldn’t read the rest of the message.

'No, no, no, no, no. These motherfuckers!'

It was too late.

Lyon managed to see one word.

Just one word.

And that word explained, with brutal precision, a plot twist he had been waiting months to discover by himself.

Lyon brought both hands to his face and let out a long, muffled groan into his own palms.

"I hate them!" he said out loud. "I hate them with all my heart!"

"Can’t you tell them not to spoil things for you?" the voice inside his head asked, with an almost innocent tone.

"I already did," Lyon answered, still with his hands on his face. "I’ve asked them like five times. I begged them, and all I got was them doing it more."

"Why?"

"Because they’re my friends."

"…Ah. Humans…"

"Yes."

"So that’s what humans are like..."

"Yes."

Lyon lowered his hands and looked back at the screen. More messages.

[JuanPa]: lyon you didn’t read what kevin said, right?

[Kevin]: sounded like he did

[Marce]: nooo poor guy

[JuanPa]: hahahahahaha lyon say something

[Marce]: lyon if you don’t reply in 10 seconds I’m writing the ending

Lyon gritted his teeth.

He knew perfectly well how this worked.

If he replied, even with an insult, even with a simple "shut up", the others would keep going.

They would send him screenshots of the game, describe entire scenes to him, or give him a complete summary of the whole plot with drawings and everything if necessary.

But if he didn’t reply, if he simply ignored them, if he pretended to be disconnected, maybe, with luck, they would get bored and move on to another topic.

Maybe.

'Hold on,' he told himself. 'Hold on. Don’t reply. Hold on.'

Lyon slammed the laptop shut.

If he didn’t look at it, it didn’t exist.

Lyon ran his hands through his hair and got up from the couch. His knee cracked again when he stood. His legs were still sore from the stair marathon, and now his head hurt on top of that.

'What a shitty day.'

Lyon walked to the window and pulled the curtain aside.

The city was below. The lights looked small, spread out in straight lines along the main streets, with brighter patches where the businesses that were still open at that hour were located.

The cars looked like dots moving slowly. The occasional siren in the distance, almost muted by how far away it was.

And above, in the sky, the moon was full. Lyon looked at it for a while in silence, his hands resting on the window frame.

And for one very brief second, he felt an enormous urge to open the window, jump, transform in midair, and fly far away from everything. Away from the apartment, away from the city, away from the friends who spoiled things for him, and everyone else.

Just fly.

'…'

Lyon closed the curtain.

'No,' he thought, turning back toward the inside of the apartment. 'Not today. I’ve already had too much for one day.'

His gaze fell on the couch. And there, on top of the cushion where he had left it a few hours ago, was the phone.

The black phone with the gray strip and the dark screen, with the paper containing Cya’s number folded beside it.

Lyon stared at it for a good while.

When he had seen the notification that afternoon, the one that said "[Would you like to sync the data from your previous device?]", he had done the only sensible thing he could think of.

He tapped no.

And then, just to be sure, he turned the phone off.

And he didn’t turn it back on.

Because… what for? Why would he use a phone that was probably sending every movement of his thumb straight to Cya’s guild headquarters?

No.

No way in hell.

That phone was a camera with buttons. A trap wrapped in expensive metal. A Trojan horse with kitten animations.

Lyon sat on the couch, next to the phone, but without touching it.

'Now I have a problem, though,' he thought, rubbing his temple.

Because the problem was that he didn’t have another phone either.

His old phone had drowned in the river that morning along with his money. And buying a new one, a normal one, a cheap one, required money.

When classes started again, he was going to need a phone to communicate with professors and classmates, and his laptop wasn’t always going to be useful for that.

'Then maybe…'

Lyon let his head fall back against the couch and stared at the ceiling.

'…maybe I really should accept that girl’s job.'

He said it inside his head almost like a betrayal of himself.

Because accepting the job meant staying in contact with Cya. It meant delivering designs to her. It meant meetings. It meant, probably, more visits to his apartment and more invitations to hotels and more awkward moments in expensive stores.

But it also meant money. And with money, he could buy himself a cheap phone.

'It’s a possibility,' he thought. 'Just a possibility. I’m not saying yes yet.'

"Uh-huh, sure…" the voice inside his head commented.

"Shut up. I haven’t decided anything yet."

"I didn’t say anything."

"You said 'uh-huh'."

"A neutral 'uh-huh'."

"There’s no such thing as a neutral 'uh-huh' with you."

"That’s prejudice."

Lyon was about to answer her, about to tell her it wasn’t prejudice but an empirical observation based on months of mental cohabitation, when the building shook.

Just a small tremor. Like a short vibration that made an empty glass on the kitchen table clink and made the curtains move slightly.

And at the same time, outside, the alert began to sound.

The alert was a low, deep siren coming from speakers spread throughout the city. It was designed not to be so sharp that it caused panic, but still loud enough that nobody could ignore it.

A monster detection alert.

The same alert Lyon had heard that morning, right before the giant worm burst out of the store floor.

Lyon stayed still on the couch.

He sighed.

"Not again."

"Again," the voice replied, in a slightly amused tone. "Welcome to the second event of the day."

"I’m in a fifteen-story building with reinforced structure," Lyon said, not moving. "The city has protocols. The registered hunters are going to arrive. It’s not my problem. I’m going to sleep."

"Good thinking."

"Right?"

"A very mature response."

"Thank you."

Lyon closed his eyes, ready to pretend he had fallen asleep right there on the couch before having to get up and reach the bed, when the building shook again.

And this time, it really shook.

The vibration was much stronger than before. It was felt throughout the entire floor. The furniture began shifting a centimeter to each side. The empty glass in the kitchen fell off the counter and shattered against the floor.

CRASH!

A cheap picture frame Lyon had hanging beside the window came loose from the wall and fell too.

Thud!

On the shelf where he kept his few books and video game figurines, two things rolled to the edge and fell with a dry sound against the floor.

Lyon threw himself to the ground by instinct, ducked beside the couch, and covered his head with his arms.

"Shit!"

The shaking lasted a few more seconds.

Seconds that felt long.

Then, everything stopped.

Lyon stayed there for a moment, crouched down, his arms still covering his head, listening to the creaking of the building’s structure settling again.

Silence.

Only the alert outside, still sounding in the distance.

Carefully, Lyon lowered his arms and straightened up. He sat back on the couch and looked around.

The apartment was a minor disaster. The broken glass in the kitchen. The fallen picture frame. Things fallen from the shelf. A dining chair knocked over. And on the table where he had left his laptop before coming to the couch…

Lyon rushed to check the laptop.

The laptop was fine.

It had moved a little, but it was still closed, still on the table, and hadn’t fallen. He opened it, pressed a random key, and the screen turned on normally.

'Ah, thank every god…'

Lyon let all the air out at once.

If the laptop had broken, that would have truly turned his day into a tragedy.

Lyon was breathing in relief, one hand resting on the table, when he heard a buzzing sound.

A short, rhythmic, familiar buzz.

Vzzt. Vzzt. Vzzt.

Lyon slowly turned his head toward the couch.

The phone.

The black phone was vibrating and had turned itself on.

Lyon approached it, picked it up carefully, and looked at the screen.

[Incoming call: You]

Below the name, in smaller letters, there was a text that made him frown:

[This contact has emergency priority.]

'Of course she has emergency priority,' Lyon thought. 'She configured the phone herself. She gave herself emergency priority.'

Vzzt. Vzzt. Vzzt.

Lyon looked at the screen for a few more seconds.

And with all the caution in the world, he answered.

"…Hello?"

Cya’s voice came through on the other side almost instantly. Clear. With no background noise. As if she were in a completely silent room speaking through a high-quality microphone.

"Are you all right?"

Lyon blinked.

"…Uh, yes. I’m fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, yes. Some things fell, but I’m fine. I’m fine."

There was a brief silence from the other side.

"Good," Cya finally said. "I am calling because the opening of a portal has been detected near the area where you live. Nothing has appeared yet, but it is a matter of minutes. The energy is strong."

"Uh-huh."

"I ask that you head to the nearest shelter. The one for your area is three blocks north of your building. It has visible signs. It should not take you more than five minutes on foot."

"Uh-huh."

"Are you listening to me?"

"Yes, yes, I’m listening."

"And are you going to go to the shelter?"

Lyon looked at the mess that was his apartment. He looked at the phone in his hand. He looked at the window with the curtain closed, and he looked at the couch where he had been planning to fall asleep five minutes ago.

Lyon sighed.

"Yes. I’ll go. Thanks for warning me."

"Good."

Another brief silence.

"Listen," Cya said, with a voice slightly different from before. "After this is over…"

"Yes?"

"Do you think we could… talk again? At some point."

Lyon squeezed his eyes shut.

"Look, Cya, I really appreciate the call," he said, already walking toward his room with the phone pressed to his ear. "But I’m busy. I have to go to the shelter. We’ll talk later, okay? Bye."

And he hung up without giving her a chance to answer.

Lyon looked at the phone in his hand for one second.

And without thinking too much, he left it on the bed.

Then he walked toward the closet. He crouched down, reached his arm all the way to the back, and pulled out from under all the layers of old clothes the small hiding spot he had made that morning.

The rain jacket, still a little damp.

The sunglasses and the face mask.

And apart from that, the clothes he had worn that morning. The clothes he had gone out in to buy the console. That dark shirt, those comfortable pants, and those old but sturdy sneakers.

Lyon started changing.

"Mmm," the voice inside his head said, in a tone that already knew where this was going but asked anyway. "What are you doing?"

"Changing."

"Yes, I can see that. But why?"

Lyon pulled the dark shirt over himself. He adjusted his pants and crouched down to tie his sneakers.

"Today was complete shit," he said, his voice calm but carrying a tone that didn’t allow for argument. "I missed out on the console. I missed out on the game. My friends are spoiling things for me, and now half my apartment is falling apart."

Lyon stood up and grabbed the rain jacket.

"I want to de-stress a little," he finished.

There was a brief pause.

And then the voice let out a small laugh. A soft laugh, almost affectionate, with a hint of mockery but also something close to pride.

"Wow," she said. "Looks like you’re starting to enjoy this whole fighting thing."

Lyon stood in front of the bedroom mirror and put on the hood. He adjusted the face mask over his mouth and nose, then put on the sunglasses.

"It’s not enjoyment," he replied while finishing adjusting everything.

"Uh-huh."

"Seriously."

"Uh-huh."

"Where do you feel the portal’s energy?"

The voice went silent for a moment.

"Southeast," she finally answered. "About a kilometer and a half from here. It’s opening. It still isn’t stable. If you hurry, you can get there before the Association’s official hunters start arriving."

"Perfect."

Lyon walked back to the window. He pulled the curtain aside and opened it.

Outside, the city was still lit up. The full moon was exactly where he had seen it a few minutes ago. The alert was still sounding in the distance. And somewhere to the southeast, probably on a rooftop or in an empty alley, a portal was opening.

Lyon took a deep breath.

And in that instant, a soft but intense red light wrapped around the entire apartment. The furniture, the walls, the things fallen on the floor, everything was bathed in that shade for less than a second.

When the light faded, there was no longer anyone standing in front of the window.

Only a small black bat, with crooked wings and red eyes, beating against the night air as it launched itself out of the apartment and disappeared between the buildings toward the southeast.