The weather forecast had sworn—sworn—that today would be sunny.
But New Eridu's sky looked as if it had been wrapped in invisible grief. It cried without warning.
Sunlight only dared to show itself for a moment before retreating, timidly, behind thickening lead-gray clouds—like even the sun was afraid of what was coming: an unreasonable downpour with no intention of negotiating.
People complained about the inaccurate forecast, of course. But they were also used to it. Lately, bringing an umbrella had become muscle memory—basic survival literacy. A little inconvenience? Bearable.
On the streets, pedestrians hurried along. Umbrellas in bright colors drifted like fragile, moving fungi, swaying under the growing wind.
And then—perhaps realizing that a few token tears couldn't stop office workers from chasing attendance bonuses, couldn't wash away the will to struggle in a steel jungle—the sky fell silent for a brief, unsettling beat…
Before unleashing true fury.
A torrential rain unlike anything before, savage enough to look intentional, crashed down as if to scrub the entire city clean.
Zhe, Belle, and Qianye had planned to spend the day playing around Lumina Square.
Instead, they sat in Tinman's café—warm light, coffee aroma, jazz in the background—like castaways clinging to the only island that hadn't been swallowed by the storm.
Inside, it was a different universe.
Soft amber lighting poured over dark wooden tables, reflecting a gentle sheen. Fresh-ground coffee filled the air, layered with the lingering sweetness of baked pastries. Abstract paintings rested in quiet colors along the walls. Behind the counter, every coffee apparatus shone—polished like instruments waiting to be played. The jazz was slow, oily, and comforting, doing its best to keep the outside world from leaking in.
Outside the glass, it began as a few impatient taps.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Then—no transition, no gradual build—the river in the sky broke.
Rain came down in columns, billions of icy threads spearing straight from a black iron ceiling. Visibility collapsed into a boiling white haze. Every other sound—traffic, horns, voices—was erased and replaced by one brutal, constant roar.
It didn't arrive.
It poured into you.
A sustained near-range explosion, filling every gap between ear and soul, pressing down until your chest felt tight.
The city's outline blurred, dissolved, and reformed. Skyscrapers became gray silhouettes soaking in developer fluid, weightless shadows that looked like they could be washed away. Glass façades—once proud mirrors of sunlight—turned into trembling, tear-streaked smears of light behind the rain.
Neon signs fought back, painting the flooding streets in sick reds and greens. Their reflections warped in the water, breaking into something like a massive oil painting being drowned and melted in real time—beautiful in a way that felt wrong.
The streets stopped being streets.
They became temporary rivers: muddy, furious, dragging leaves, bottles, torn paper, and ripped signage—symbols of order and dignity—into spinning eddies and violent currents.
Occasionally, a pair of headlights drifted through the rain like a drowning person's last wide eyes, carving a shaky smear of light—only to vanish, swallowed by heavier rain and louder thunder as if they'd never existed.
Drainage surrendered completely. Low places filled into murky lakes in minutes.
A few vehicles still pushed forward—no longer "cutting through waves," but lumbering like armored water-buffalo, plowing up filthy swells that slapped onto sidewalks and soaked fleeing pedestrians at the ankles.
The asphalt—order, efficiency, civilization—suddenly felt like a thin eggshell.
Under it was a boiling, ancient water-world clawing at the surface.
Belle set down her warm latte and, after snapping several photos of the "end of the world" outside, finally pouted.
"These forecasts have been useless lately."
She wrinkled her nose, then poked the cute little strawberry mousse in front of her with a fork like it had personally betrayed her.
"Today was supposed to be perfect—movies, then that dessert shop's limited strawberry parfait… and my dream got stranded at the first stop."
Zhe lifted his hand-brewed coffee, much calmer.
"Plans rarely survive reality," he said, blowing the steam. The fog he exhaled hit the cold glass and instantly became a smear of pale frost.
"Hey, look!" Belle's mood pivoted instantly—like it always did.
She traced in the fog with nimble fingers.
"I drew a little pig! Does it look like one?"
Zhe smiled—soft, patient—and took a sip. The warmth spread through him like a solid, reliable thing, pushing back the chill.
But Qianye—sitting opposite them—looked out of place.
He barely touched his coffee. His arms were folded on the table, but his posture was stiff. He stared out the window with those usually bright, clear green eyes dulled by the same gray hanging in the sky.
His gaze landed on something small: under a distant roof in the rain, a Bundboo and a cat huddled close together, trembling for warmth.
His fingers tightened around the cup handle until his knuckles paled.
Tinman, who had been polishing a siphon set behind the counter, finally approached and sat beside Qianye.
"Qianye," he said gently, "is today's coffee not to your taste? Coffee is like time—once it cools, what you extracted so carefully will fade."
"Ah—no, Master, your coffee is amazing!" Qianye jolted like he'd been yanked back from somewhere deep.
To prove it, he grabbed the cup and chugged a big mouthful without thinking.
Instant regret.
He swallowed hard, face flushing as he fought the urge to cough, then set the cup down a bit too quickly—clink—slightly loud against the wood.
Tinman watched, sighed, and spoke with calm certainty.
"Coffee exists to let guests rest. Not to punish them. If you have something on your mind, say it. Don't hurt yourself just to hide it."
Qianye's shoulders sagged.
He looked down at the dark surface rippling in the cup, voice trembling faintly.
"Sorry… I didn't mean to worry you. I just… don't know why, but since earlier I've felt unsettled."
"This weather feels wrong. The sky is heavy. The rain feels like it wants to drown everything. People outside don't look like themselves—only hurried, scared. The city feels… quiet in a terrifying way. Not because there's no sound, but because the sound is too violent—like it fills everything until nothing else can exist."
He lifted his eyes again, drawn back to the storm as if it was calling his name.
"And…"
His voice lowered until it was nearly swallowed by the roar outside.
"There's someone… in weather like this…"
"I… I'm worried about her."
The worry spread through his green eyes like wet ink.
While Qianye sat in warmth and light, the city's other side held a colder kind of shelter.
The safehouse smelled faintly of dust and disinfectant. Light was cool and white. The walls were gray, bare. The only window was sealed behind heavy blackout curtains; only a dull, muffled version of the storm could seep in.
A communicator buzzed.
"Can you hear me? Jane—Jane?" Zhu Yuan's voice came through: professional, controlled, but threaded with tension.
"Loud and clear~" Jane answered immediately—lazy, amused, and sharp enough to cut.
She had just returned. Dampness clung to her hair. With smooth familiarity, she pulled a pair of claw-like blades from her boot, set them on the table within reach, kicked off her tactical shoes, and leaned back against a metal chair like she owned the room.
"Let me get this straight," Jane drawled. "I'm undercover with the Mountain Lion Gang, losing sleep daily, and I still get summoned like a rental tool to help Public Security crack illegal Ether-resource trades?"
Her tone rose into clean, open mockery.
"Zhu Yuan… does your branch truly have no one left? Or do I just look like a convenient brick you can move wherever you want?"
Zhu Yuan's irritation flared through the speaker.
"Jane! Public Security isn't short on capable people. It's just that—"
"—Most of them are busy doing loud, pointless 'routine raids' and performative patrols to numb the Mountain Lion Gang," Jane cut in smoothly, blade-precise.
"Or…"
Her smile sharpened.
"They're lining up to kiss Blinger's ring while he lies in some premium hospital bed, uncertain whether he'll keep his seat. They're clustering together to resist any attempt to replace him. Right?"
Silence.
Only breathing and faint static.
Jane laughed softly—pleased.
"So I'm right. Your colleagues are… so ambitious."
She bit into a red apple—crunch—the casual sound absurdly loud in the sterile room.
Then Zhu Yuan's voice turned colder.
"Jane. Enough. Say what you mean."
"Oh?" Jane's amusement deepened. "You want it plain?"
She placed the apple down like it was a prop in an interrogation.
"I'm mocking you," she said. "Purely and openly."
Then her voice softened—into something worse: sticky, cold, and intimate like a spider thread.
"A mouse can be clever. Sometimes a mouse can even kill an arrogant cat."
"But a mouse doesn't necessarily beat something born to fly."
Birds—Jane continued—can soar under sunlight, feathers combed by wind, praised by crowds. They enjoy warmth and brightness that mice may never touch.
Mice?
They crawl out only when it's absolutely safe, in the deepest night, stealing a sliver of moonlight—reflected, pale, secondhand.
"And the funniest part?" Jane said, almost lovingly cruel.
"The bird gets blinded by a little warmth, then starts believing it's the sun's chosen one."
"It rots from the inside. Twists into what it once hated."
"Those wings—meant for flight—turn into shackles. And the bird tries to lock the sun itself in chains, to monopolize warmth… light… everything."
Jane paused, savoring the rougher, uneven breathing on the other end.
"Result?" she asked sweetly. "Nothing."
"The sun still shines for everyone. It never stays for one bird."
"And the bird?"
"It loses even the sky it once had."
Jane waited for an outburst.
Instead, she heard a long inhale—like Zhu Yuan had gathered every loose piece of herself and forced it back into place.
Zhu Yuan spoke again, steadier than before.
"Alright. I understand you."
"Thank you for your… 'warning.'"
Then, slowly, she returned the blade.
"If you're using Icarus to 'advise' me…"
"Then I'll answer with another myth."
Her voice became stubborn, granite-hard.
"Even if a boulder rolls down again and again—mocked by fate, blocked by people…"
"Sisyphus will not stop."
"And one day—"
Her tone rose, clean and absolute.
"She will push that damned stone to the summit."
The call cut off.
Only busy tones remained.
Jane stared at the apple.
Her expression shifted—barely.
Complex, unreadable.
Then she chuckled.
"Annoying."
She took another bite, slower this time.
"Qianye forgiving you doesn't mean you've earned the right to enter again, Zhu Yuan."
"You still have a long road before you can step onto that stage."
Her gaze drifted toward the curtain-covered window, listening to the storm.
"…But we'll need to accelerate the Mountain Lion Gang's collapse."
"That way I'll have a proper excuse for a long vacation…"
"…to stay with Qianye."
She swallowed, then narrowed her eyes slightly.
"Still…"
"Is the Outer Ring getting restless?"
Join here to read ahead.
In Star Rail, Ultra-Beast Armored — Have I Caught "Equilibrium"? l (Chapter 80)
Uma Musume, But I Only Have Five Years Left to Live (Chapter 178)
Zenless Zone Zero: I'm a Doctor, Not a Bangboo (Chapter 150)
Ben Tennyson Wants to Join the Justice League ( 126 )
TYPE-MOON: Redemption Beginning with the Holy Grail War (Chapter110)
Yu-Gi-Oh! — Transmigrated into the White Dragon Girl (Chapter190)
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I, Lord Ravager, Utterly Loyal! (Chapter222)
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Crossover Anime Multiverse: The Demon Hunter of an Unnatural World 77
From Junkman to Wasteland 66
Weekly Refresh of Overpowered 31
I'm Grinding Proficiency Like 46
From Kiana, Lord Ravager, Onwa 190
Honkai: Is This Still the Prev 42
Elf: My Starter Pokémon Is Inc 65
Warhammer: My Primarch Is Remi 170
From Demon Slayer to Grand Ass Volume2/5
The Way the Umamusume Look at 68
Uma Musume, but My Cheat Power 215
Naruto: Weaving the Future, Be 65
Zenless Zone Zero, but Kamen R 76
Multiverse Crossover: The Perf 66
My Cyberpsycho Girlfriend 65
Uma Musume: The Dark Trainer 200
Uma Musume: A Calamity Born fr 154
I, a Reincarnation-Loop Player Volume4/30
The Violent Girl Group Is Beat 115
Uma Musume: The Horse Girl Who 67
Uma Musume: From Beginner 130
Becoming a Horse Girl, I Will 85
Uma Musume: I Want All 105
I Can Copy Unique Skills 100
Summoning an Evil God, but the 70
Supernatural Multiverse 90
My Harem Is Indescribable 85
Jujutsu Kaisen: Heroic Spirit 90
"I'm just a Valkyrie passing through." 68
Uma Musume: Today Is Another Romantic Battlefield 81
Still playing traditional Honk 69
The Most Filial Son Under Heav 65
What Should I Do After Switchi - Volume2/3
Reincarnated as a Demon, Skill 60
Hell-Difficulty Dungeon? 55
Transmigrated as Sukuna 61
Checking In in Demon Slayer 65
The Reincarnating Trainer of Tracen Academy 80
I Refuse to Become a Heroic 66
My Best Friend Into a Slime? 58
A Saiyan Stands Above Marvel 65
What Do You Mean by Using a Lab Mod to Be the Hero? 63
Tanya Starts from Re:Zero 59
Why did they assign me to Uma 55
MYGO Beauties 56
DanMachi: Emiya the Giant Hero 45
The Gacha Merchant Who Started 49
Honkai's Otherworld? Wait—Who Are You People?! 36
Emiya Shirou, Determined to Slay Every Curse and Evil Spirit 15
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