Near the Northern Mountain – An S-Rank Gate

Hope exhaled slowly as the last remnants of the S-rank gate dissolved behind her, the swirling purple vortex collapsing in on itself with a final, thunderous crack. The air, thick with residual mana and the smell of ozone, began to clear.

Around her, the other heroes were already dispersing, some heading toward the medical tent, others gathered in small groups, debriefing and clapping each other on the shoulders.

Hope ran a hand through her sweat-damp golden hair, pushing it back from her face. Her silver-white armor was scuffed and dented in a dozen places, and there was a shallow cut on her forearm that she hadn’t even noticed during the fight. Her mana reserves were running on fumes.

A tall man from the Crimson Blade guild approached her, his armor still immaculate—because of course it was, he’d spent most of the fight on the periphery, casting support spells from a safe distance.

"Hope!" He smiled, confident, easy. "We’re heading to that new restaurant near the guild headquarters. The one with the rooftop terrace. You should join us. You’ve earned a good meal."

Hope smiled back, bright and warm, but shook her head. "Thanks, really. But I’m exhausted. I think I’ll just head home and collapse."

The man’s smile faltered for just a moment. "You sure? Everyone’s going. It’ll be fun."

"I’m sure." Hope’s voice was kind but firm. "Next time, maybe. Tell everyone I said good work."

The man nodded, though his expression was carefully neutral. "Alright. Get some rest."

He turned and walked back toward the others, his internal thoughts churning with mild frustration. She never comes. Always an excuse. Maybe she’s just not interested...

Hope pulled out her phone as she walked toward the transport zone. The screen glowed to life, and she saw it, a message from Andrey.

Andrey: "Hope. Do you have any information about the gate anomalies near the eastern industrial district? We’re planning to clear it tomorrow. Any advice would be helpful."

Hope’s tired face softened.

A small, genuine smile curved her lips. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

The man from Crimson Blade happened to glance back as he reached the transport vehicle. He saw her expression and stopped mid-step.

’That smile...’ he thought, his eyes narrowing slightly. ’I’ve never seen her smile like that. Who made her look like that?’

Hope typed a quick reply, her thumbs moving swiftly across the screen.

Hope: "I’ll send you the file I have on that zone. Be careful, there have been reports of corrupted elites spawning near the core. Let me know if you need backup."

She tucked the phone back into her pocket, still smiling, and climbed into the transport vehicle.

The man watched her go, his internal thoughts still churning with unanswered questions.

’Whoever you are... you’re lucky.’

The transport vehicle pulled away, leaving the ruined gate behind. Hope leaned her head against the window, watching the city lights blur past. Her phone buzzed again.

Andrey: "Thanks, Hope. I owe you one."

She smiled again, smaller this time, and typed back.

Hope: "You owe me dinner."

A pause. Then:

Andrey: "Sure."

Hope tucked her phone away and closed her eyes, the smile still lingering on her lips.

She didn’t know why his messages made her feel this way. Maybe it was because he never asked for anything more than she could give.

The vehicle hummed through the city, carrying her toward rest, but her thoughts lingered somewhere else entirely.

’What am I doing?’

She didn’t have an answer. But for the first time in a long time, she didn’t mind the question.

Andrey’s Apartment – Bathroom

Andrey stood in front of the bathroom mirror, towel draped over his shoulder, still catching his breath from the workout he’d just finished.

The reflection staring back at him was... different.

Not drastically. He wasn’t suddenly built like an S-rank brawler or anything. But the soft edges from his office-worker days were gone. His shoulders were broader, more defined. His arms had actual muscle now, veins visible beneath the skin when he flexed. His chest was leaner, his waist trimmer. Even his jawline seemed sharper.

Andrey tilted his head slightly, studying himself.

Back at Apex Logistics, he’d been... average. Healthy enough, sure. He went to the gym, ate decently, maintained a routine. But there had always been a certain tiredness in his reflection. Dark circles. Slight slouch. The subtle physical weight of a job that demanded everything and gave nothing back.

Now his skin had a healthier glow. His posture was straight without him having to force it. Even his eyes seemed clearer behind his glasses, the perpetual tension around them softened.

’I feel... better,’ he thought, turning his arm to watch the muscle shift beneath the skin. Stronger. More awake.

He wasn’t sure when exactly it had happened. Somewhere between the gates, the constant fighting, and the system’s relentless demands, his body had changed.

The bathroom door creaked.

Andrey glanced up.

Sein stood in the doorway, one hand braced against the frame, her breathing still slightly elevated.

She was wearing a black tank top, thin, clingy, soaked through with sweat in several places. The fabric clung to her skin, outlining every curve, every line of muscle beneath. Her sports bra was visible through the damp material, dark and practical. Below, tight leggings hugged her hips and thighs, leaving nothing to the imagination.

Her orange hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, loose strands sticking to her flushed cheeks and neck. Sweat glistened on her collarbone, on her arms, on the small strip of exposed skin between her tank top and leggings.

She looked... perfect.

Andrey’s internal thought surfaced, ’She’s just sweaty from running. Nothing more. Keep it together.’

He cleared his throat, grabbing the towel from his shoulder and draping it over the mirror. "What’s wrong?"

Sein pushed off from the doorframe and walked into the bathroom, not bothered by the small space or their proximity. She leaned against the sink, arms crossed under her chest which, with the damp tank top, was... distracting.

"Nothing’s wrong," she said, her voice flat but not hostile. "I just want to talk."