"There are no direct flights to Miami. What a shame."

"My parents said they’ll assign a private jet to me as soon as possible before departure. At first, I thought it was a joke, but… anyway, I guess it’ll work out in the end."

"...Are they operating it under Icarus Corporation?"

"No, it’s something my parents personally own."

Cheongdam Penthouse, the day before departure.

The sky was as dark as if ink had been poured over it, and Olivia's Korean speaking ability was gradually coming back to life. Though they hadn't talked much during the time together, she hadn't been kept locked away at home either. After all, she had gone with him to the studio for the last talk show.

That said, there had been far more important matters than public activities, so it might be a little regrettable that they hadn't gone out more.

In any case, if it had been a plane under Icarus Corporation, things might have been even easier.

Lately, he’d been collaborating with think tanks one by one, and his parents knew very well that he was the de facto owner of the company. That made it possible for them to send him to the United States under any number of pretenses using a private jet.

His parents were in positions such as Vice President and Management Team Leader, members of the board, but not exactly full owners of the company. How they managed to wield such extensive power... Well, as he'd mentioned before, the CEO of Icarus, Henslow, was just a figurehead.

The current operations and management of Icarus were largely controlled by a foundation—or something like it—that included the two suspicious individuals who had brought him into this world. They occupied most of the board seats and were actively supporting his parents.

Back to the matter at hand.

He would have liked to take Olivia around Korea more, but things had gotten quite complicated. Strictly speaking, the reason Olivia was placed as a general observer for the sniper competition… was partly because she had been acting so sentimental due to memory confusion.

But he hadn't expected that nostalgia or whatever it was to be healed so quickly by one reckless operation.

What Olivia really needed... was a unique experience that no one else had. He hadn’t fully anticipated it, nor had he been entirely sure, and that was why things had turned out this way.

'...I guess it's fine, just think of it as going to see the polar bears and sharks again after a long time.'

Anyway, he had to go to the U.S.

There were a few extra things attached along the way, but nothing that would cause any real problems. With that in mind, surprisingly, he felt quite at ease.

"Things have completely turned around. I guess I’ll have to pass on the mom title to the youngest."

"I'm only in my mid-20s."

"If you can heal others, I don't see why I can't call you that... Alright, alright, stop hitting me with your tail, ah, ow, that hurts!"

The idea of a person in their mid-20s becoming the "mom" of someone in their late 30s was... a pretty terrifying thought.

Desperate to shift the conversation, he quickly came up with something else to talk about—such as what he would be doing in Miami after arriving, what he’d be doing before the competition started, and so on.

"If Olivia had entered the competition, she might have overwhelmed the other participants with Iron Sight."

"...It's not impossible. But I don’t really like using Iron Sight for sniping. The farther the distance, the more variables there are, and adjusting for that with the naked eye is pretty annoying. Still, it sounds like it would be fun."

"Right. It's been a while since we’ve gone out for some fresh air, so how could it not be enjoyable?"

Though there were some physical limitations, like not being able to participate in certain events like camouflage and sniping with a ghillie suit at the competition, it wasn’t impossible with the help of Icarus gear. However, he wasn’t particularly interested in going that far.

Other than that, most things were possible. Classic yet challenging missions like hitting targets on a swaying ship, shooting targets from a helicopter, navigating through mountains with just a map while eliminating targets, and infiltrating a base were all doable.

As always, these were adrenaline-pumping, life-risking missions that tested everything from the tips of your fingers to the top of your head.

As he was lost in thought, a voice came from across the table.

"Anyway, you’re really cut out for the battlefield."

"Right. I don’t think there are many Awakened who aren’t."

"That’s what you say, but the youngest didn’t seem too friendly when we first met, did they?"

"With a body like this, how could I have casually approached people? Especially when I couldn’t speak English well back then."

The conversation shifted to the past.

He and Olivia were sipping wine at a table with a few candles lit, and his past started to come out, bit by bit, like putting together a puzzle.

The reason she had been called "mom" back then wasn’t anything grand.

"And who took care of the youngest with such devotion?"

"You’re right in front of me. And yes, I did take care of them with great care. The CQB training was a bit too much, though."

"Well, you can blame the circumstances back then. Loren Tina had a lot on her plate, and she almost lost her mind trying to teach you. It got a little better after Logan and Owens joined."

"I had already been dragged to the battlefield and fired a gun over 35 times before I even finished learning."

Later, he found out, though it was obvious, that none of his acquaintances had met him by chance, nor had they taught him just out of goodwill.

During the Dark Winter Crisis, even elite combat troops were quickly consumed like bullets, and to replenish them, anything had to be done. He had been forced to join the front lines of this recruitment.

Over a span of three months, almost 600 Awakened appeared in Manhattan due to the viral pandemic. But only a few, like him, had such noticeable changes, and even fewer had their physical abilities drastically improved.

"By the way, I remember killing quite a few mutants during the Dark Winter Crisis. The mutations from the friends who died didn’t carry over to here."

"That’s quite an interesting story. I can’t quite recall any examples, but I think I remember a few of the Lykers who had cat ears on their heads."

"Oh, the ones named after metal, like Nickel, Chrome, and Titanium?"

HVT, or "High-Value Targets," were a real problem. Among the prisoners who escaped from Riker Island, there were some quite troublesome individuals, including one suspected of being an EM-grade entity. He remembered a time when a Predator equipped with napalm rockets set part of the sector on fire, trapping the gangs.

"I did a quick search a while ago using my NSA network, just to see if there were any leads. Didn’t find anything though. I think when someone dies, their connections disappear."

"Can you even talk about that?"

"I trust the youngest can keep a secret."

Unfortunately, there was no way to refute that. Not only him but even the shark and the polar bear—if any of the little details they'd been casually talking about leaked to the world, things would get serious.

And he wasn’t planning to spill anything either.

As the alcohol started to take effect, all kinds of stories followed, but there was so much that had happened over the years, and 24 hours wasn’t nearly enough to share it all.

The more alcohol he consumed, the fuzzier the memories became. The buzz from yesterday's interview or the still-blazing internet community situations drifted outside his thoughts, and by the time the last of the wine bottles were finished, everything in front of him began to drift.

What would tomorrow bring? That was his last memory.

And then…

"Ugh... I feel like my bones are going to shatter..."

"...Ah."

Eight hours later, at 11 AM.

He was literally wrapped around Olivia with his tail, and she was excitedly hitting him like a wrestling referee tapping out the match.

Clearly, alcohol was something he should avoid.

"Is this a hotel or a supercar showroom? If I take this thing and give it to them, they’ll complain about it hurting their back..."

"I’m sorry. Most of the vehicles available for rent have been taken by the guests. I’ll check if there are any extra cars at the Icarus Residences in Jacksonville and Orlando."

"No, it’s fine. I don’t think there’ll be a problem with these. Is there an autonomous driving mode?"

"Yes."

"Then we’re good."

With a simple gesture, a hologram wrapped around his wrist, and with another motion, a sleek black supercar's scissor door smoothly opened. Logan, who seemed indifferent, got into the driver's seat. It was a low-slung car, unlike the large SUV he'd been driving.

As the engine roared to life, Logan switched to autonomous mode and confirmed the destination synced up with another vehicle.

It was time for a drive.

Logan stretched out his arm and yawned deeply. At that moment, the cloudless Miami sky appeared. Two supercars—Logan's car, which he was driving, and the Centenario, which Olivia would be sitting in, along with the car that the youngest would take—dashed out onto the West Palm Beach road.

Miami? No, West Palm Beach. It was about 110 km north of Miami International Airport. Logan planned to enjoy a leisurely drive for about an hour before reaching the airport. Shortly after, the two cars entered the I-95 highway.

"Did that shark guy take the youngest on a sports car ride in Hawaii?"

Some were holed up in a mountain valley, stuffing bullets into humanoid heads, while others were off enjoying the high life.

But the situation had completely changed. Loren Tina was probably busy with sniper competition judge training by now, and with just five days left until November 3rd, it was highly likely they wouldn't be able to talk until then unless it was via secure communication.

Just thinking about it made Logan feel a thrilling sensation.

He placed his hand on the steering wheel, which was an odd design made from high-end leather and carbon, and looked back to check on the other supercar following him. Once he confirmed it was fine, he disengaged the autopilot and began pressing the accelerator.

Vroom!

The variable flaps opened, and Strada mode automatically switched to Sport mode.

There weren’t many cars on the road, and most were cruising at about 120 km/h, barely meeting the recently lifted speed limits. Logan, however, pushed the car faster.

The speed gradually climbed, but once it reached 128 km/h, it stopped. Logan confirmed it was the speed limit and checked the autonomous car behind him to ensure it was keeping up. Even with the widespread use of self-driving cars, constant monitoring was necessary.

As he mentioned earlier, the destination was Miami International Airport.

By now, he could almost picture the faces of the two people, who would be comfortably seated inside a private jet, flying near New Orleans.

"I wonder what kind of reaction that shark will have when I tell him after the sniper competition that I’m taking him to Disney World."

Logan chuckled to himself, continuing to drive down the road, the sound of the engine rumbling in the background.

In just under an hour, he reached the vicinity of Miami International Airport and began following a special route into the airport. The two supercars were now heading toward a private jet terminal, a path not usually traveled by the general public.

Although the airport terminal would normally be bustling with people, Logan was greeted by about four staff members. After passing through a large scanner that could easily handle even a limousine, they waited briefly before reaching the wide airport runway.

"Now, the youngest is really throwing money around everywhere."

Or maybe, this was the point where the youngest was finally starting to match the scale of money they were moving.

Logan thought to himself as he saw a Gulfstream aircraft slowly making its way into a hangar. He parked the car at a distance from the aircraft's movement path and waited until it completely stopped before he accelerated again to move closer.

Just then, the moment the private jet's door opened, a directional EMP was triggered, and optical camo was deployed.

The cameras around the hangar were instantly disabled, and as they came back online, the distorted vision was transmitted to a CCTV room. Meanwhile, Logan was left stunned as figures began descending the stairs from the plane.

Always calling them "chickens," yet Olivia—whose skills were unmatched—descended with her owl-like agility, followed by the youngest, who seemed to have appeared out of both the real and virtual worlds.

But that wasn’t the end of it.

"Wow, I didn’t understand what it meant for an archetype to cross worlds, but now that I’ve stepped into another world myself, it’s quite something."

"Before anything, you should introduce yourself first, Maverick. This is Logan from this world."

The design was familiar, but this time, it didn’t glow in teal and blue. The lights at the joints and parts of the body shone a violet hue, and the artificial eyes glistened in a beautiful color reminiscent of amethyst.

It felt different from Jin and Rain, but before Logan could finish his thoughts, a hand, which belonged to the "third" in the mech line, was extended toward him.

As Logan’s logical circuits began to freeze, the youngest added a line.

"Don’t worry. Once we get acquainted, we’ll send them back to their world."

That wasn’t the problem, damn it.

As Logan glanced at Olivia and Eugene’s expressions, he could tell they’d planned this. They must have wanted to see her reaction, which was why this whole thing was happening.

Even Maverick, struggling to cope with the immense force of the handshake, finally spoke.

"...I know our two friends must be eager for a dramatic greeting."

"Ha."

Logan, smiling as he imagined the scenario of driving with the two of them hanging behind the car, approached them with a pleased expression. Eugene and Olivia laughed heartily, accepting their fate.

While Maverick stood there stunned, the two of them endured the polar bear's headlock. It was just another day in their lives.