"Greater risk, greater reward, kitty... But I don’t mind." He glanced at her as he put on his headphones and turned on the music. "I know that this time, things probably won’t end as well as they have in the past. Maybe this will even be my last dance... But for some reason, that makes me feel even more free. Sorry."

"..." She didn’t answer.

"And I’m also sorry that in moments like this, I’m secretly glad you don’t understand me."

He smiled guiltily and, tilting his head, tried to lean against her... But instead of doing the same in return, she pulled away.

He sighed and, turning the music up full blast, headed for the exit to the bar.

Various thoughts swirled in his head. From how, clad in advanced gear and armed with a monstrous arsenal, he’d fight his way through a crowd of creatures that looked like devils, hoping to witness the mysterious Catalyst Event, to...

The book was hidden under his jacket. Most likely written by the last Peak of Knowledge himself — Iron Heart... Most likely by one of those who had also been transported to this world.

However, before all these thoughts could develop into something more, he saw a figure waiting for him at the back entrance to the bar.

Sighing, he took off one earbud and heard a familiar voice.

"You show up and don’t even say hello. You’re leaving and not even saying goodbye?" Marcel said.

"Excuse me, are you talking to me? Listen, I don’t think we’ve met before..."

"Come on, kid. If you’re dressed like a damn punk, acting like a one-of-a-kind Nobody, and walking around with a cat wearing a supervillain cape—it doesn’t matter what face you’re wearing today."

"Oh..." He glanced awkwardly at the cat, but she didn’t even look at him. 𝙛𝒓𝒆𝙚𝒘𝒆𝓫𝙣𝓸𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝓶

"Besides, there’s a some brand-new bike parked behind the bar, and my son said he met some cool stranger."

He grinned.

"You know, I wanted to make a surprise entrance, but you weren’t there. I didn’t want to keep Schrödinger waiting, so I went straight to him."

"Oh, so you finally talked to him... Why don’t you come over and tell me about it? And also about the reason you haven’t stopped by in so long." Marcel grinned, pointing at his shoulder.

"...You know, I’m kind of in a hurry."

"Come on. Damian’s been moping all day because he never got to let that cool stranger try his mom’s pasta. Can you imagine how shocked he’ll be when he finds out that the cool stranger he met is his favorite hero!"

"Seriously, old man, I have to go." He sighed, glancing back at the noise of the street. It seemed like he could hear a familiar guitar riff coming from one of the corners. "There’s a serious job on the line, and I’ve got just over a day left to prepare."

"A new job, and not through me?" Marcel frowned. "You didn’t give me the details... Is it something too dangerous again?"

"I don’t... even know how to explain it." He shook his head, avoiding his gaze.

The details were so frightening that it was better not to voice them.

Staring at the dark silhouettes of men with bottles outside the windows, he kept trying to figure out where the music was coming from.

There was something sad about it, but at the same time warm and familiar. Something urging him to take the plunge into a place from which there might be no return, and something making him desperately want to go home.

"Haa... well, take care of yourself, kid." Marcel placed a hand on his free shoulder. "There will always be people here waiting for you."

Dozens of men with hollowed-out faces, devoid of even a trace of hope, stared blankly through the windows of the apartment buildings. Some of those gazes met his.

"..." He shifted his gaze to Marcel and nodded vaguely.

Without a word, he headed for the entrance and began climbing the shadowed staircase.

Marcel stood there, watching him go.

"... Old man," he called softly, barely glancing back. "If I manage to come back, will your wife really make the best pasta in the world?"

"Of course!" he called out with a smile.

He nodded and, putting his headphones back on, walked away without saying goodbye.

The recent sense of anticipation gave way to a vague unease... as well as the fear that he might not return.

The fear that, once again... he had something to lose.

...

A day later.

"11 hours and 56 minutes left."

Mr. Nobody tossed and turned in his sleep, lying on the floor next to the sofa. In the darkness, a white bandage could be seen on his forehead, with a dried dark-red stain.

An old book lay next to him, open to the first few pages.

"..." For a while, the cat gazed thoughtfully at those pages from atop the sofa.

Apparently, giving up on trying to understand the text, she turned away and went for a stroll around the apartment.

Walking into the kitchen, she stared at the closed refrigerator for a while.

Returning, she began to gaze idly out the window.

Finally, she headed toward the bookshelf, where she sniffed at an open pack of cigarettes for a while.

All this time, she pointedly tried not to look at the sleeping man, as if she were still harboring some kind of resentment...

"I-I’m sorry... I’m sorry..." More muttering in his sleep finally made her pay attention to him.

His fingernails dug into the floor, and his face wore an expression of agony.

He often muttered in his sleep, and this time was no exception.

"I’m so sorry... God, I’m so sorry..." His nails scraped against the floor, and beads of sweat ran down his face.

The cat crouched down beside him, her blue eyes watching the man’s face.

It seemed his nightmare had shifted.

"N-no, no, don’t make me... Please, don’t make me do this again."

"...I don’t want to. Please, no."

All this time, the cat watched his moans and tossing and turning in his sleep.

Her paw rested on the man’s forearm, and for a moment, he calmed down.

However, after a while, the nightmare reached its peak.

The man’s teeth chattered, and waves of shivers ran through his body. It seemed as though he was experiencing incredible fear.

"N-no, n-no, not you... p-please, not you..."

"N-no... No, no, no...!"

His chest heaved heavily, and his legs twitched as if trying to run away.

With every passing second, his fear intensified, as if something terrible were about to happen.

"Meow..." the cat called softly and carefully lay down on his chest.

His head jerked back as if dodging, and his lips pressed together as if trying to hold back a scream.

This went on until...

"He got me...!"

"...." His scream and wide-open eyes met only predatory blue eyes and a pleasant warmth on his chest.

"Kitty...?"

"Meow."

"I’m sorry, I... I’m sorry."

He pulled her close and hugged her, rolling onto his side.

"..." She looked at him as the last of his tears stained her black fur.

"...It’s okay now." He closed his eyes and pulled her even closer. "Thank you."

She watched his face until his breathing grew quiet and steady.

Then the cat settled more comfortably under his arm and closed her eyes too.

...

*Ding-ding-dong. Ding-ding-dong...* The alarm’s tune began to play.

"Until the start of true hell... 5 hours and 29 minutes left!!!" The overly cheerful message read. It was displayed by a hologram of Paymax, dressed as a terrifying creature with devilish horns and a maniacal grin.