If someone gave Luca a coin for each time a silence like this happened, he’d already have his pockets filled.


    Well. On this case, this seemed to be likely Michael’s intention, as he turned and walked to the driver’s cabin, leaving them hanging there.


    Outside, fog rolled in slowly, curling around the bus, brushing against the windows.


    Luca stretched his hands over his head and lay back more comfortably, looking outside. The road twisted and curled, which was a bit annoying, but beyond that, he felt quite calm. He had known in what swamp was stepping in since the beginning so such talks didn’t move him. His thoughts were focused on his surroundings, particularly on the long path.


    It doesn’t feel like a place you want to be at night.


    Faint light, fog, and nothing but vegetation at first glance—the line of buildings loomed mockingly in the distance.


    … It didn’t seem like it had been designed for people who fought for their lives on similar settings. Pendulum was quite cruel to add such an ‘outer side’ to the populated area. Who would dare to run away?


    Minutes passed. Humans, resilient as they were, began to return to a semblance of normality.


    “–only three. I heard it’s because their M–levels are higher than average–”


    “If you get paired with one of them, your chances of surviving go way up–”


    Of course, they started to gossip.


    A noise of exasperation came from the next row. Reeds, right?


    Luca glanced around the bus, catching a glimpse of brown curls near the front. Unlike the rest of them, the heroine was already ‘making friends’ with the others. It was clear who had the most charisma. He turned his attention back to the window. Even as his eyes grew heavy, he didn’t dare fall asleep. He wanted to see it.


    G–Zilla’s entrance.


    And he didn’t regret it.


    Two black pillars, tall as obelisks, flanked the sides of a gray bridge. When one of the others finally noticed it, they gasped —though not exactly in awe.


    “Look!" Someone shouted. "It doesn’t have a deck!”


    “Are we going to fall?!”


    Had they already forgotten about the airplane traveling through a storm? Or that landing? If anyone had died then, it was unlikely to happen now. Of course, Luca could afford to think whatever he wanted–he had an enormous advantage over the rest of his coworkers.


    “Stay calm, please,” Samantha’s voice cut through the rising panic. She popped up from the head of her seat, raising her hands in an appeasing gesture. When she noticed the others listening, her face flushed red, but she pressed on. “Remember, the flight was strange and looked dangerous, but nothing happened.”


    Murmurs of agreement spread through the bus.


    “And,” she added, more confident now, “we’ve got one of the seniors with us. They’re tasked with bringing us to work, and they’ve been reliable so far. Please trust them.”


    How sweet, Luca thought, turning his gaze back to the window. She had no idea that not all the seniors had their best interests at heart. But she’d learn that soon enough.


    The colossal columns stretched higher, showing hints of a Doric style as the bus approached them—but the architecture was lost to them as the lack of a deck became unmistakable.


    Squinting, Luca noticed a faint shimmer in the air. He relaxed further, folding his hands over his lap. As the bus suddenly accelerated, a wave of screams pierced the air, and many voices even called the ‘reliable senior’ and the driver. They crossed the black columns and seemed to leap into the cliff–but they didn’t fall. The bus landed on something solid yet translucent, which, under the weight of the vehicle, solidified into a white road.


    “What is this?” someone asked, their voice trembling.


    “I almost had a heart attack,” another muttered, clutching their chest.


    “Did they tell you about this, Sam?” a red–haired woman across the aisle asked.


    “No, no,” Samantha replied, her voice steady but tinged with wonder. “But it’s incredible. I thought the bus would fly or something–”


    “I thought the same!” another woman chimed in from behind her. “I almost wish it had. But an invisible deck is pretty cool too.”


    As their chatter continued, Luca’s thought was occupied with something more. Though the road had become visible, the image of what lay beneath the cliff was etched in his mind: a dense forest, a river streaming through the middle, and–strangest of all–a peculiar formation of rocks.


    This must be the old crypts, he thought.


    “Look! Civilization!” someone shouted, drawing everyone’s attention to the windows.


    Two snow–white obelisks marked the end of the bridge, and beyond them, a line of buildings emerged from the horizon, half–obscured by a faint haze. Finally, the trip was coming to an end.


    As the bus passed between the columns, something happened. A faint sensation, like static electricity, brushed Luca’s skin, and a tingling spread through his body. It lasted only a split second, and when he glanced at his other coworkers, none showed more beyond amazement. But the goosebumps along his arms were proof enough that hadn’t been his imagination.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    The asphalt road stretched ahead in a straight line, flanked by auburn trees. The fog had lifted, revealing a continuous line of streetlamps on either side. Soon, a colossal building rose into view on the right, its gray walls and giant windows visible through the red leaves and black branches.


    “The Main Hall is on your right,” Michael’s voice announced through a speaker. The sound quality was better than the airport’s but still carried a faint static. “And downtown is on your left.”


    Luca turned to the other window, catching a glimpse of small buildings and a fountain through the glass. From what he knew, the area housed everything from cafeterias and clothing stores to a cinema, flower gardens, and a park lined with green pines. It was its own town.


    “Now, we’re reaching the Delta Quarters,” Michael added.


    On the right, a five–story concrete building came into view, a bold red ‘D’ painted on its side. Wide white windows, a dark wooden double door, and an entrance lined with pots of yellow flowers gave it a distinct character. As the bus stopped, it became clear that this wasn’t the only building–it was the first of five.


    Michael reappeared, his hair slightly disheveled and his sunglasses crooked. “Start getting off,” he instructed, his tone brisk, apparently no caring about his appearance.


    As they stepped off the bus, their luggage was already waiting in front of the building. The moment the last person stepped onto the ground, the doors closed on their own, and the bus drove away.


    Quick and efficient, Luca noted.


    “This will be your home for the foreseeable future,” Michael announced, his voice flat. “Come and get your keys.”


    Luca tightened his grip on his suitcase and tucked his empty thermos under his arm before joining the line. When it was his turn, Michael paused, his gaze lingering on Luca for a fraction longer than necessary before handing over the key.


    “You’re in the Building 1. Be at Office D33 in the Main Hall at 4 PM,” he instructed. “Don’t make us wait.”


    Luca accepted the key, his fingers brushing against Michael’s icy ones for a split second. He nodded, his expression neutral. “Understood.”


    Without another word, Luca turned and headed inside, dragging his suitcase behind him. Passing by the line of pots, he couldn’t identify the flowers, but their fresh, sweet scent lingered in the air. The double doors swung inward, revealing a modest reception area with a lavender sofa, a bookcase, and a hanging silver flower—shaped lamp casting a soft glow. A staircase spiraled upward in one corner, while an elevator stood silently against the opposite wall, and a corridor stretched next to it.


    Luca glanced down at his key, noting the etching: 1B. First floor of the first building –what a privilege. For a splint second, wondered who had been living there before him –but soon pushed the thought aside. It didn’t matter anymore. Those who died in the Mysteries didn’t hunt this world anyway.


    Opting for the stairs, the climb was brief but tiring. Each step echoed louder than it should, and the suitcase felt heavier. By the time he reached his floor, fatigue had settled in his body, leaving only a wish for warm water and a comfortable bed.


    The hallway stretched out before him, lined with identical doors, and then turned at his right. The walls were a dull beige, the floor covered in thin, pale orange carpeting that muffled his footsteps as he made his way towards the other end. On his way, he passed by another pair of double doors, marked with a sign that said ‘KITCHEN’ in bold lettering.


    It swung slightly ajar, revealing a sliver of steel appliances and white marbled counters beyond. A shared space, which was normal for the Delta quarters. The laundry room should be around, perhaps in the ground floor.


    As he reached his door, the key slid smoothly into the lock, almost too easily. Pushing the door open, he stepped inside–and stared.


    A large window dominated the opposite wall, offering a view of the gray sky outside. A simple wooden desk and chair sat beneath it. A white paneled screen divided the space, offering privacy to the ‘bedroom zone,’ while a compact bathroom was tucked behind a sliding glass door. Everything gleamed under the artificial white light, and when he breathed in, the scent inside seemed oddly familiar.


    Osmanthus tea.


    Luca placed his suitcase by the door and set the thermos on the counter before approaching the covered side. A bed with neatly ironed blue sheets stood in the corner, topped with a long shelf and a bedside table holding a wooden lamp. He picked it up, squinting at the osmanthus flowers carved into the base.


    Not knowing whether to feel honored or worried, Luca stood there for a moment, taking in the room.


    Home, sweet home.


    At least Pendulum spared no expense when it came to appearances, even for the ‘rookies.’ Still, it would take him some time to get used to this.


    His gaze drifted toward the bed. There, resting atop the pristine duvet, was a small black box embossed with a golden P. It glinted faintly in the light, and for something so small it felt both innocuous and deeply disconcerting. He approached cautiously, already knowing what it was.


    Opening the lid, he found it was the same silver bracelet Lacerta had shown them earlier as he expected. Its surface reflected the light —and the colors— like it had been polished into a mirror, with a barely perceptible rectangle formed by straight, thin carved lines. The size should be good enough to encircle his wrist.


    Luca hesitated, staring at the bracelet for a moment before closing the box, putting it aside. Forget it, then. He wouldn’t put it on just yet. Instead, he decided to take a bath, hoping the warmth of the water might ease the tension coiling in his muscles. It felt like a live had passed since he took the flight.


    As expected of the place, the bathroom could only be described as immaculate. The light—blue tiles gleamed, the walls were so pristine that anyone would feel guilty for breathing near them, and the fixtures shone brighter than a mirror. The dark wooden medicine cabinet above the sink was adorned with intricate carvings of tiny flowers and curling lines. The only thing missing was a ceramic or marble bathtub in the corner. He supposed the silver, flowery shower faucet would have to do.


    Washing his hands and then his face felt like a surreal experience.


    Was this his life now? A rags-to-riches arc compressed into three days?


    Glancing at the mirror —what, more osmanthus flowers? — Luca couldn’t help but think that Shawn would’ve found this place… well, boring as hell. He’d have wanted to buy an aquarium and fill it with golden fish, turtles, and a little crab. A vibrant curtain for the window—blue or red—and another air freshener that “didn’t remind him of their grandparents’ house.” And, of course, a SpongeBob SquarePants poster just for laughs.


    Luca closed his eyes. It hurt to think about it. It hurt even more that he didn’t know if this Shawn would be the same.


    Turning away, he pushed the thought aside and decided to take a bath. As the water ran hot, steam filled the small space, fogging up the mirrors and muffling the silence of the apartment. The warmth spread through his body, flushing his skin and loosening the tension coiled in his muscles.


    Afterward, wrapped in a blue bathrobe that fit him perfectly and feeling more comfortable than he had in days, Luca returned to the bedroom area. The black box still sat where he’d left it, its golden emblem catching the light. Reluctantly, he picked it up again, opening the lid once more. The bracelet lay there, still and silent.


    With a deep breath, he picked it up and slid it onto his wrist. The moment the ends connected, the edges seemed to melt together, sending a cold shiver through him. It was like a bucket of ice water had been poured over his head. His vision blurred for a split second, and when it cleared, the room seemed… different. The blood coursing through his veins grew louder, almost deafening, before fading back into silence.


    [Welcome to Pendulum.]


    A message popped up in the corner of his vision, the letters crisp and white.


    [Please, enter your designation.]