The heavy, aching weight in his body had faded. The air was stifling, yet bearable. The sound of a door opening and shutting echoed faintly, and only then did Anthony realize how cramped the room was.
When he opened his eyes, his wrists were still bound. His hands rested on a small wooden table where a single candle flickered. His waist felt as though it were nailed to the chair.
How long had he been here?
No windows. Rough brick walls, closing in like a tightening vice.
Malivor stepped closer, and Anthony finally got a good look at him.
The young man stood near six-foot-three, built and imposing, with a presence sharpened to intimidate. Fair-skinned, dark brown hair neatly faded, green eyes sharp and alive. A strong figure dressed in a fitted shirt of white and violet, with plain trousers.
Great. I wasn't saved, I just ended up in someone else's hands.
"Tom, where are you from? Who do you work for?" Malivor sat across the table, eyes fixed.
What am I supposed to tell this guy?
"Well, I…"
"Spare me the stalling. Speak." His tone carried steel.
"I came from Europe. And no, I don't work for anyone."
Does Europe even exist here? Where the hell am I?
"Europe?" Malivor's brow furrowed. "Never heard of it. Is it somewhere past Dalém?"
"I have no idea what Dalém is." His voice was honest, though it sounded like mockery.
Perfect. No matter what I say, no one's going to believe me.
Sweat clung his shirt to his back.
"How did you end up in Tânoa Castle? Why were you after the princess?"
Anthony paused for a moment.
"It's… going to sound crazy, but I swear it's true." His pulse hammered past a hundred beats per minute. "I was just on my way home when something green split the sky. Then I was suddenly inside that castle. I didn't even know who the princess was. She just looked like she was in danger, so I tried to help."
Malivor narrowed his eyes.
"And that thing you were riding? Was it some kind of monster?"
"Monster?" Anthony blinked. "That was just a motorcycle… I mean, a regular bike in my world."
Right. Why not? If magic exists here, monsters probably do too. Should I have said "another world"? It's not like I time-traveled to the past. No, this has to be another world.
"Your world?" Malivor's gaze sharpened. The idea of another world was laughable, impossible.
He extended a hand, pressure tightening Anthony's throat.
"Ugh— listen, I know it sounds insane, but you asked for honesty…" Malivor eased Anthony's grip. "I have no idea how I got here, or even where 'here' is. All I know is, ever since the sky went green, everything's been chaos. I can't make sense of any of it." His voice echoed off the walls, too loud for a man under interrogation.
His once-white shirt was soaked through with sweat.
Nhiek! The door opened.
"You two trying to wake the whole damn city? You should shout more then." The medium tall woman mocked as she entered.
"So I lost my bet, then," Malivor muttered sideways.
"You should be getting punched for botching the mission, not betting on it." She sighed, running a hand through dark brown hair. "Move aside. I'll deal with him."
"He's spinning some bizarre tale about another world. Not my problem anymore. Good luck." Malivor shrugged, rising to leave.
Laylla dropped a folded paper on the table and sank into the chair, lacing her fingers behind her head.
"You really are a bit different. But let's get to it." Her eyes scanned him up and down. "Anthony, or should I say Tom, right?"
"Yes." Relief flickered in his chest at the change of pace, though his voice trembled. His fate was still unknown. He lowered his gaze to the paper on the table, straining to read.
"Curious about the paper? Fine. You have two options." Laylla's eyes pinned his.
He raised his head slowly.
"You can become a test subject." Her voice was calm as a still river.
The words cut his ears like blades. A chill shot down his spine.
Are you kidding me? Being a guinea pig? Just the thought makes me sick. Who says something that terrifying with a straight face?
"You should've seen your face." A smile curled her lips. "Option two: you join us."
Not a bad deal. If this really is like a game or a fantasy story, I'll need a group to survive. At least in the beginning. Later, maybe I'll find a way home, or a way out.
"You're overthinking. You've already decided, haven't you?" She dropped her arms.
"Yeah. I'll join you. Beats being a lab rat." His words fell with a sigh of relief.
"I'll fetch ink and a quill. Meanwhile, free yourself and read the terms."
From her pocket she drew a dagger, leaving it on the table before walking out.
Anthony stared. Confused but not about to waste the chance, he grabbed the blade, stabbed the wood, and sawed at the rope — awkward and slow. He was only halfway through when the door creaked open again.
"You're pathetic. I made it easy and you're still tied up."
His pride stung, but he had no defense.
Why the hell would a desk jockey like me ever need to escape rope?
She returned, laying down ink and quill, then sliced the cord herself.
The contract was brief, simpler than anything back on Earth. No fine print, only clean lines of script, with strange symbols edging the margins. The terms:
The recruit must obey the missions assigned by squad superiors without resistance or hesitation.
Complete commitment to the squad's principles, including confidentiality, discipline, and loyalty.
Desertion, betrayal, or abandonment will bring immediate and irreversible consequences.
The bond will remain until the captains release it, or until a greater pact is fulfilled.
"Failure is not always a mistake, only the step before success."
He scrawled his name. Laylla's dagger scraped across the table.
"Cut your hand. Place your blood here in the corner, press your thumb down." Her voice dripped boredom.
I'm probably screwed for signing these 'terms and conditions' so carelessly.
He sliced the side of his palm, pressing until scarlet seeped onto the parchment, finishing with a bloody print of his thumb.
"And now?" Anthony pressed his wound to stop the bleeding.
"Welcome to the Moonlight Squad, Anthony. Whatever your past was, forget it. Your future just took a sharp turn." She rolled the contract and slid the dagger back into her belt. "Quick intro: I'm Captain Laylla Stoth. So, do you fight? Use magic? Both?"
"Neither, actually…" His tone soured.
"Pffff… That's a problem." She rubbed her forehead. "Forget rest. Training starts today. Otherwise you won't survive your first mission."
She plucked up the ink and quill, leading him into the corridor. He followed as sunlight hit him hard at the stair's end, nearly blinding, though warm and welcoming.
"Go through that door. Ask for new clothes. And take a bath, you need it."
Instinctively, he sniffed his collar and grimaced.
I didn't smell this bad at the office.
A soft nasal laugh escaped Laylla.
"Almost forgot. Someone's eager to meet you."
Anthony frowned at her words.
…
Far from the Moonlight Squad…
The fragrance of gardenia filled the air. A soft, beige room, warm and welcoming.
Emily stirred in bed, her garments replaced with lighter ones. At her wrist, a cold clink.
A chain trailed out from the bed, with a handcuff attached to her right wrist. Instinctively, she jerked her arm around in an attempt to free herself from the shackle, but it was futile.
To her left, the door opened.
"Who are you?! Where am I?!" Her pupils flared in panic.
"You get a point for waking up, Princess Emily." The golden-haired woman's voice was serene. "Don't worry, you're safe here."
Niora circled the bed, drew a key from her azure uniform, and freed the cuff.
"I'll inform the commander that you're awake. Meanwhile, you're free to rest. The kitchen's at the end of the hall if you're hungry. Only rule is simple: don't leave the complex."
Though still wary, Emily nodded, watching Niora slip out.