The heavy oak doors of the sanctuary clicked shut behind us, instantly plunging us into the bustling, vibrant atmosphere of the 7th District. Known across the capital as the premier entertainment and commercial hub, the streets were lined with colorful banners, street performers strumming ancient lutes, and the rich, intoxicating aroma of roasting meats and sweet pastries.
Once we were a safe distance away from the church facade, I paused in a relatively quiet alleyway. Moving with deliberate care, I unclasped the straps of my Leech's Hollow Mask, letting the cool morning breeze hit my face. I carefully tucked the calcified bone mask into my spatial purse, checking to make sure my heavy firearms and the 37 volatile tear gas canisters inside were perfectly balanced 23.8 kg /25 kg.
Without my mask, I looked like a typical… albeit exceptionally pale and striking… one-armed Luminous Knight wandering the sector. My tattered crimson trench coat billowed slightly around my ankles, keeping my compressed blood-wings completely hidden from any passing bounty hunters who might be looking to cash in on my 18 gold Crimson Phantom bounty.
Tae-man walked right beside me, his golden-crimson eyes scanning the crowded streets with pure excitement. His iron-leather vanguard armor clinked with every step, and his hand rested casually on his new steel shortsword. The sheer street-vanguard stats he had built up over eleven years of street grinding allowed him to navigate the dense crowds with effortless, mechanical grace.
"Man, the 7th District really hits different when you actually have money in your pockets, alright, Roxanne, watch a professional gamer lock in. Main quest: Secure the best food hub in the sector."
He led the way toward a lively, open-air food hub overflowing with locals and traveling merchants. The air here was thick with the scent of sizzling spiced skewers, fresh baked Carian flatbreads, and sweet honeyed glazes.
Because I was completely mute, Tae-man immediately stepped up to the front counter of a popular stall, using his high-tier localization stats and fluent Alatist to confidently handle the ordering.
"Give us two platters of the roasted boar skewers, a side of those golden fried honey-cakes, and two cold fruit juices," Tae-man commanded the vendor, slamming a handful of silver coins onto the counter with the absolute bravado of a high-tier protagonist.
I stood half a step behind him, my single jade-green eye tracking the movements of the crowd while my Level 8 Mana Pool, Level 6 Magic Enhancement, and Level 5 Healing rings pulsed with a comforting, synchronized warmth against my right hand. For just a brief moment, the suffocating guilt of the morning's blood-soaked bounty faded away, replaced by the simple, bizarre reality of going on a literal tutorial date with a Seoul gamer in the heart of Andromeda.
Tae-man proudly handed over the silver coins to the vendor… money he had earned himself through those brutal monster-hunting contracts and clearing goblin hordes near the outer walls, rather than touching the bounty split from this morning. He grabbed the wooden tray holding our steaming platters of roasted boar skewers, golden fried honey-cakes, and cold fruit juices, scanning the crowded food hub with his sharp gamer instincts.
"Over there, Roxanne," he muttered in English, gesturing toward a quiet, heavily shaded table nestled under a thick canopy of purple wisteria vines near the edge of the terrace.
We wove through the bustling crowd and sat down across from each other. Hidden safely away from the glaring midday sun and the prying eyes of the main thoroughfare, I finally reached up with my right hand and pulled back my canvas hood, letting it rest against the collar of my crimson trench coat.
With the hood lowered and the mask tucked away, my true face was fully visible to him in the soft, dappled shade. My exceptionally pale skin caught the faint light filtering through the leaves, contrasting sharply with the cloth eye-patch covering my missing right eye and the faint, elegant lines of my sharp features. My mouth remained closed over the empty space where my tongue used to be, a calm, unreadable serenity settling over my expression.
Tae-man froze for a second, the wooden tray hovering just an inch above the table before he set it down. His crimson eyes widened slightly as he took in my face without the dark shadows of the hood obscuring it. The frantic, boasting street-rat bravado completely melted away, replaced by a genuine, quiet awe.
"Wow… I mean... I know I see you in the sanctuary, but out here in the city, without the hood... you look amazing, Roxanne. Like a literal hidden boss character from a high-budget cinematic."
He cleared his throat loudly, trying to regain his composure, and pushed the plate of golden honey-cakes and a cold juice directly toward me.
"Anyway! Mission accomplished. Dig in. You earned this after dealing with that trafficking ring this morning."
I offered him a very faint, almost imperceptible tilt of my lips… a silent acknowledgment. The Level 5 Healing ring on my finger hummed with a soft, comforting warmth. For the first time in months, sitting here under the shade with a boy from Seoul who just wanted to buy me lunch with his hard-earned monster-hunting coins, the heavy, suffocating weight of my dual life as a demonic phantom felt just a little bit lighter.
The roasted boar skewers glistened with a rich glaze, and the golden-fried honey-cakes practically radiated sweet warmth across the table. They looked absolutely delicious… a masterclass in Andromeda's local culinary arts.
But as I looked down at the plate, a familiar, cold reality settled over me. Because my harsh upbringing as an Appraiser had culminatied in the physical horror of losing my tongue, my sense of taste was completely non-existent. To me, even the finest delicacies in Caria were nothing more than textures and fuel to sustain my sixth-evolution demonic biology and the heretical life growing inside my womb.
Tae-man, entirely oblivious to the mechanical way my body processed food, picked up a piece of the golden honey-cake with his fork. He leaned across the shaded wooden table, his face turning that familiar, bright crimson shade as he held it out to me.
"Come on, Roxanne. Try it," he muttered in English, trying to look smooth but failing miserably as he let out a soft, awkward, "Ahh..."
Knowing that we were technically on a date… and deciding to let the Seoul gamer have his textbook protagonist moment… I didn't reach for my notepad to write an explanation. I simply leaned forward slightly and opened my mouth.
As I did, the dark cavity of my throat revealed the stark, empty space where my tongue should have been. Without the ability to properly chew or manipulate the food with a tongue, I had to rely on a sharp, controlled swallow. As my lips parted wider to take the cake, the elongated, razor-sharp fangs of my advanced demonic strain naturally slid into view, catching the dappled sunlight filtering through the wisteria vines.
Gulp.
I swallowed the piece whole, the thick honey glaze coating my throat as I sat back back into the shade, my expression returning to its usual serene, unreadable mask.
Tae-man's fork froze in mid-air, his golden-crimson eyes locked onto my mouth. He didn't even notice the missing tongue; his gamer brain had hyper-focused entirely on the sharp ivory points of my teeth.
"Woah, hold on! Roxanne, you have natural fangs?! That is an incredibly high-tier cosmetic trait! Man, back on Earth, people would pay absolute top-dollar in MMORPG character creators to get that exact aesthetic. It completely fits your whole legendary bounty hunter build. Is that just a rare, hyper-specific human gene from your family line, or did your Kendo training somehow make your jaw structure built for biting through steel? Either way... it's incredibly cool." Tae-man stammered, his eyes sparkling with pure, unadulterated excitement as he pointed his fork at me.
I kept my single jade-green eye fixed on him, my lips firmly closing over my "cosmetic trait." The Level 8 Mana Pool and Level 6 Magic Enhancement rings on my fingers glinted in the shade as I let out a silent, internal sigh. To him, my monstrous, blood-sucking biology was just a cool character design choice from a video game. He had absolutely no idea he was sitting across from the Crimson Phantom, a demon capable of tearing apart S-rank syndicates with those exact teeth.
But looking at his goofy, star-struck expression, I chose to keep my mouth shut. The secret was safe, the gamer was happy, and for now, the monster could pretend to just be a girl on a date.
Tae-man set his fork down, resting his elbows on the wooden table as he leaned in closer. The dappled shade of the wisteria vines danced across his iron-leather vanguard armor.
"Roxanne, tell me about your life, I mean... since you can't speak, do you happen to know sign language? If you do, can you tell me a bit about how you ended up here?"
I stared at him through my single jade-green eye, my expression unreadable. Sign language? In the brutal, evolutionary continent of Andromeda, structured sign language wasn't a thing. If you were born mute, or if a corrupt syndicate violently ripped your tongue out to keep you from speaking, the world simply left you behind in the dirt. There were no specialized schools or universal hand gestures here.
However, I did possess a tiny, highly specific shred of knowledge from my past life in Manila. Back on Earth, I hadn't been a model student… in fact, I had been a straight F student. The only reason I had ever looked into American Sign Language or ASL was to use it as a stealthy, untraceable key to cheat on multiple-choice exams with my classmates. I only ever learned how to fingerspell the letters A, B, C, and D to pass answers across the row.
Since formal ASL was entirely non-existent in Andromeda, I had to get creative. Using my single, pale right hand… the fingers heavily adorned with my pulsing Level 8 Mana Pool and Level 6 Magic Enhancement rings… I swiftly flashed a sequence of raw, improvisational hand shapes, spelling out a basic phrase directly in front of his face:
Y-O-U F-I-R-S-T.
Tae-man blinked, his sharp gamer eyes tracking the quick, mechanical movements of my fingers. He didn't understand the exact letters, but my commanding gesture and the steady, unblinking glare from my green eye made the intent completely unmistakable.
"Ah, yes. Fair enough, Well, aside from the eleven years I've spent grinding my life away in Caria's lower districts, I actually had a pretty simple life when I first got dropped into this world. I was raised in a dirt-poor, backwater farming village out in the countryside. I technically have a bunch of native siblings over there... but honestly? I didn't really care about them. I didn't want to get tied down to a peasant lifestyle, so I completely ignored the family dynamic and hyper-focused entirely on my main quest to become a legendary protagonist." Tae-man chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck with a slight grin as he happily took the lead.
He took a sip of his cold fruit juice, completely unapologetic about his single-minded gamer mentality.
I sat perfectly still, listening to him recount his textbook isekai prologue in fluent English. Behind my calm demeanor, my analytical mind processed the data. He was a pure, detached strategist… someone who saw this entire reality as a software program to master. He had no idea how lucky he was that the universe hadn't dragged him into an archivist's dungeon.
Tae-man took another long sip of his cold juice, leaning back into the shaded wisteria booth, his fingers drumming casually on his iron-leather gauntlet.
"Back in Seoul, as a shut-in NEET, I always got bullied by everyone. That's why I just gave up on school, dropped out, and threw myself into becoming a hardcore gamer. Then, well, my physical body got absolutely crushed by that speeding train. But when I woke up over here... man, things got weird."
I kept my single jade-green eye locked on him, my right hand resting loosely on the tabletop, the Level 8 Mana Pool ring glinting in the dappled light.
"I didn't open my eyes in some peaceful paradise, I was born in the Town of Carcaka… you know, that miserable, soot-choked industrial town of Andromeda. I had native siblings there. The oldest brother is Victor Katt, the middle child is Vanessa Katt, and I was the youngest. To make matters worse, my native parents gave me this weird-ass fantasy name: Valentine Katt. Like, what a joke, right? That's why I strictly stick to Na Tae-man now. But anyway, while Vanessa was barely learning how to walk, I was still sitting in my crib hyper-focusing on reading books and forcing my brain to translate the local Alatist text."
A sudden, violent jolt of pure shock rippled through my chest.
Behind my serene, unreadable facial mask, my mind instantly derailed. Vanessa Katt. The name echoed like a thunderclap in the quiet spaces of my mind. Vanessa Katt… the vicious, napalm-wielding wife of the Immoral Commander, Cameron. She was the monster who had nearly burned me to ash in the Caria Mountains, the very reason I had to commission this flame-resistant crimson trench coat to protect my scarred flesh. She was the woman whose genetic material I had brutally harvested so I could shapeshift into her form, utilizing her identity as my perfect key to invade Cameron's fortress and tear his syndicate apart.
And the boy sitting across from me, happily munching on a honey-cake, was her biological little brother. I had hunted and systematically liquidated his own flesh and blood.
Tae-man, entirely oblivious to the fact that he was sharing a lunch table with the demonic executioner who had slaughtered his sister, simply shrugged his shoulders.
"By the time I hit five years old, I didn't care about my birth parents at all. I honestly just saw them as useless, low-tier NPCs in my prologue arc. So, I snuck out of the house, abandoned the family, and made my way straight into the capital city of Caria to start my real grind."
I sat perfectly frozen in the shade, my lips pressed tightly over my non-existent tongue. A heavy, suffocating silence seemed to drop over our table. My analytical mind scrambled to process the terrifying cosmic irony of the situation. Father Columbia's tracking matrix had brought this boy straight to me. I had saved him, brought him into our covert Earth sanctuary, and now I discovered he was a scion of the very bloodline I had severed.
I didn't move a single muscle, refusing to let my elongated fangs or my widening eye betray the sudden, dark aura threatening to bleed from my demonic core. He called his family NPCs. He had abandoned them at five years old. He didn't know. He had absolutely no idea.
And as long as the Crimson Phantom still breathed, he could never find out.