"This is a waste of time." And a waste of energy.

As soon as I told him to wait, Fletcher forced me to follow him to the car park, start the motorbike, and drive off again.

This time to Liz's apartment. "What are we doing here?"

"If Liz is kidnapped, or harmed, the culprit will definitely come here once again," Fletcher said as he checked for a window crack that could let us--no matter how--inside.

"You watch too many films." After all, if anyone looked suspicious here, it was him.

"What can we do anyway? Wait? Waiting for what--"

Just then my mobile phone notification went off. "Well, we're done waiting. I got Liz's family's contact information."

"Wha--"

I ignored Fletcher and scrolled through my phone to check the email.

I guess it only asked for a landline number, not such a detailed civil document like this.

All her information was listed there. From the names of both parents, place of residence, place of birth, school history.

For some reason, this was starting to feel horrible.

"What the hell are you talking about?" exclaimed Fletcher who was suddenly next to me.

It's a good thing I switched the screen to the main view before he could see. "I said I've got it. I'll be in touch soon."

When I brought the phone to my ear, Fletcher made a face as if to ask, 'Are you messing with me?'

I put a finger in front of my mouth. Fletcher rolled his eyes at first, before finally understanding and going silent as soon as he heard my mobile phone ring.

I didn't anticipate that it would be picked up immediately. "Clayton's residence's here,"

"Ah I--" My voice faltered and I didn't know what to say. Fletcher's speculation did sound ridiculous, until it wasn't.

If I confirmed Liz's whereabouts, and it turned out to be the opposite, Liz's family would panic. There would be unnecessary hysteria.

"Hello?"

Fletcher glared, telling me to speak quickly.

I gulped, regretting my stupid decision to jump into action without thinking things through. "Sorry, I think I got the wrong num--"

"We're Elizabeth's friends," Fletcher interrupted before I could finish my sentence.

"Elizabeth's friend?" The voice of the woman who looked like Liz's mother sounded doubtful.

"Yes, from college," I said simply.

There was an uncomfortable pause. Looks like I misspoke. "Liz doesn't go to college."

I think Fletcher's glare is getting sharper. "I mean from work, form work. We're friends from Baldside," I corrected her again, hoping it would make up for what I'd just said.

Although that's unlikely. How can anyone trust a stranger who calls you and gives inconsistent confessions?

Worst case scenario, we'd be reported to the federal police for suspicious behaviour that could potentially constitute digital media abuse.

Hii... dealing with the law is the only thing I want to avoid right now. 

"Ah, a friend from Baldside? Really? Oh my. Thank goodness. I was worried that that kid wouldn't be able to fit in. Liz, that child, she really has a strong will, but that's why she always pushes herself. I'm glad she has friends, even boys. Eh, wait... maybe... her boyfriend?"

"What?" chirped Fletcher.

"No, no. No, no. Just an ordinary friend, ma'am," I interjected before things could get any worse.

"Of course," said Mrs Clayton. For some reason, I could feel her smirking across the room. "So, what's up?"

"I was just wondering, yesterday Elizabeth said goodbye to go back to her hometown, has she arrived yet?"

"Home? That's strange."

"Sorry me, ma'am?"

"Liz hasn't said she's going home. She said she still wants to stay there to learn more because she has found the right mentor. If I'm not mistaken... his name is Mr Sandler."

Huh? Okay. This is getting confusing. "When did she say that?" I asked again.

"I think recently. Yesterday... maybe?" There was a pause before Mrs Clayton spoke again. "What... is there a problem?"

"No, no. Not at all. Everything is safe. I think I just misheard you. Thank you, ma'am. Have a nice day." I hurriedly hung up the phone while again hoping not to arouse too much suspicion.

I looked at Fletcher, preparing to say a bitter statement. "I think her type is more of an older man, mate."

*#*

When I first applied, Mr Sandler was quite friendly. He accepted me despite having no work experience, and that put me in an elusive doubt: was I now working for real thing, or was I being scammed?

The days passed and I received my salary as agreed, and even tips for doing certain things. At least then, I was grateful to have my own income. But that didn't mean Mr Sandler was anything special or to be proud of.

I don't understand what Liz saw in him?

Or am I just too cynical?"

Well, Mr Sandler's not too old either. I think he's in his forties, and has decent looks (maybe handsome for some women, I don't know, I'm a man after all).

Starting from helping each other with business, they might be a perfect match. If only Mr Sandler didn't already have a wife. 

"Did they elope?"

"Don't spit out nonsense!" snapped Fletcher, getting annoyed.

Is that jeaolusy? "Then let's see for ourselves," I said with a gesture of my head, pointing to Mr Sandler's residence on the other side.

Fletcher's face hardened. "I ..." He then chuckled. "What if he's not there, hm?"

"Then we'll look elsewhere."

"And cause another panic?"

I tapped my forehead, looking at my watch. It was getting late, and I had some business to attend to.

So, knowing that waiting for Fletcher would probably be the end of time, I turned around and intended to do it myself.

Fletcher screeched, as if to intervene.

That was when my body was hit by someone.

Unprepared, I fell to the ground. While giving a small groan, I looked away and tried to figure out who my victim was this time.

In a brown hoodie that was almost the same colour as the evening, I almost didn't notice it. "Liz?"

Fletcher staggered over, extending a hand, but not to me. Liz welcomed the gesture.

Okay, okay. Of course I had to get up myself.

"How... since when..." Fletcher seemed to be at a loss for words. "Are you okay?"

Liz opened the hood and looked at us in astonishment. "I'm... of course. What are you guys doing here?"

That should have been our question. However, Fletcher seemed too scared to hear the answer. "Nothing. Just taking a walk. If you're okay, that's great. We'll take our leave, then," Fletcher said suddenly.

"Hey, wait--"

Fletcher was already pulling me along, while giving a farewell wave to Liz.

"Don't you want to know where she's been?" I asked when we were a good distance away.

"Shut up," Fletcher exclaimed noncommittally. "It doesn't matter now."

Unfortunately it does. At least to me.

Not only was this all looking more and more strange and bizarre, but there was another problem that was still unfinished.

My mission completion notification had yet to echo.

*#*

I forced myself to get off when I saw Liz driving away. Fletcher insisted on driving me back. He billed it as a reward for accompanying him to look for Liz, but I knew he was just afraid of me talking out of my arse. 

However, since I kept insisting and Fletcher was also-for some reason-losing the energy to maintain his intensity, he left me to it.

In the growing dimness of the night, I followed Liz's increasingly suspicious steps.

The turns she made, it wasn't to her house. Nor was it to the restaurant, if it even still existed. And it didn't seem like she had any intention of going to Mr Sandler's house at all.

As she manoeuvred into an alley where the lights kept turning off and on, 'Liz' stopped.

"You can come out now. There's no point in hiding."

Hm?

Is she referring to me?

In fact, I had been walking as quietly as possible, and all along, there were horns and other noises blaring.

Ah. Maybe she meant her friend.

Wait. 'Friend'? What kind of friend--

That's bad.

Thinking too much, I left myself exposed and didn't have time to find a safe hiding place.

'Liz' turned around, and I witnessed a horrifying sight.

It wasn't 'Liz', as I had expected. It wasn't even a woman.

Her appearance reminded me of one of the villain characters in a comic series.

One side of her body was Liz, but the other side was... a middle-aged man(?).

"Oh my God." My whole body was infused with unexplainable fear and immediately collapsed on the ground. If only I hadn't seen the indicator on top of the man's head, I might have dismissed him as a curious spirit wandering around.

 <<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>

NAME: MICHAEL HUGHES

AGE: 48 LEVEL 23.

HP:  5400/5400

MP: 3000/3000

POWER: 80

VITALITY: 80

AGILITY: 20

INTELLIGENCE: 20

SPEED: 20

Skills:

(UNKNOWN)

 <<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>

Even if he is far below Hudson (as evidenced by me still being able to see his Attribute Stat), the POWER stat he has is massive.

I mean, what the hell is that? 80? Eight times the power of an ordinary human?

If I follow the calculations that have been explained, then the damage he can cause is...

Eighty times a hundred.

[Calculative ACTIVATED]

 

 <<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>

Enter the variables you want to calculate!

 

+ - /   

% :   x

 <<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>

What? Okay. Of course. Why should I use my much faster brain and calculate conventionally, when I have a Skill that functions like a normal calculator.

 <<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>

Raw Damage Calculation

POWER x 10 = 80 x 10 = 800 Raw Damage

+ - /   

% :   x

 <<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>

Yep. Calculations that I can even solve myself in three seconds. Still, there's no harm in making use of what I have, right?

Anyway, I don't think it's an exaggeration to call it a monster now. One hit would instantly kill me, no, probably straight into the afterlife.

What kind of power does he have?

"Is there anything you need from me?"

"Wha--nothing! Nothing! Nothing," I replied spontaneously and stammered. That's bad. Messing with him was as good as dead. He was incomparable to the people I was fighting like this.

However, the man named Michael approached. His form changed completely into that of a middle-aged man. I don't know if that was his true form or not.

"You're the person I met earlier."

I gulped. That's bad. Of course he'd realize immediately. And, based on my experience, at a time like this, there was no point in making up a story. "I didn't mean anything by it, really. And I won't report this to anyone. You can take my word for it, one hundred per cent. I swear."

"You ... you're just like me?" asked Michael with a frown.

I wondered what to say. "Sort of," I responded simply.

Michael sighed. "That's too bad. I wish we could share our stories. But we both know what has to happen next."

"Honestly, no, I mean, I understand. But, we don't have to end up like this. Like you said, as a person who experienced the same fate as us--"

"Goodbye."

I didn't even hear that.

My entire view turned into a beautiful green field in the middle of nowhere.

I didn't know where it was, and I should have felt strange. This place is so foreign, so far away, yet so cosy.

It's almost like home. No, it's not. It's almost like a womb.

I seem to be transformed into a baby. My mind is so light and my problems disappear and float away.

Someone appeared and came over. It was Susan Becker. Why is she here?

I don't know. I don't care.

Susan let out her trademark sweet chuckle, reaching out, about to grab my arm.

She didn't. Her hand continued to extend past my ready hand, and landed between my necks.

Her touch was as gentle as I expected. Ah... this is heaven.

Wait.  Why is her touch getting tighter, and my breathing getting more labored.

"STOP!"

Huh?

The voice echoed almost two miles away, but at the same time it was as close as my shoulder.

The surrounding scenery turned pitch-black again. I couldn't see anything. My breath caught, my whole body numb.

"Mr McKane! Mr McKane! Mr McKane!"

It was the sight and sound that brought me back to reality.

Before I could realise my surroundings, I spontaneously got up and coughed. My throat was stinging.

After picking myself up and wandering around, it was suddenly very crowded.

Elena was there, looking at me with a worried look. Meanwhile, Michael was standing nearby, accompanied by two of Elena's bodyguards (they didn't even bother to keep him away because they knew they were going to lose... or for some other reason). 

Although Michael no longer seemed threatening, the natural signals from my body seemed to tell me that he was a walking danger and made my hair stand on end.

Elena handed me a handkerchief, asking the obvious, "Are you okay?"