ZERO ONE’s POV
I had a dream… no, perhaps it was something more than a dream. A memory I’ve clung to, or maybe a vision I’ve longed for.
I walked slowly, each step carried by a path lined with flowers. The world around me was serene, wrapped in silence so gentle that even my breath felt too loud. For the first time in what felt like ages, I could relax—truly relax. My heart loosened, my body lighter, as though the weight I carried all this time had finally slipped away.
Was this a place I had been led to? Or was it the place I had always sought, deep inside?
The scenery was beautiful, impossibly so. Gentle light fell across the fields, and everything radiated a sense of fragile warmth. It was the kind of peace I had dreamed of countless times… and yet, as my gaze lowered, that peace shattered.
Tragedy.
At my feet, corpses sprawled in grotesque stillness. Their cold hands clung to me, chains of flesh and memory binding me in place. Each face was a reflection of what I had witnessed, what I had caused—their agony, their suffering, their anger, their fear.
These were the people I had killed.
Their expressions carved into me, their eyes accusing, their grip unyielding. I tried to pull away, but their touch only grew heavier, dragging me toward the abyss. Panic rose in my chest. I screamed—desperate, hollow cries for someone, anyone, to save me.
But no one came.
Perhaps I already knew, long ago, that no one ever would. That this fate was mine alone.
Slowly, relentlessly, they pulled me down. Like the sea swallowing a drowning man, the world above faded into shadow. My body, my soul—consumed, piece by piece.
And then, I… falling.
Falling… Falling… Falling… Falling… Falling… Falling… Falling… Falling… Falling… Falling… Falling… Falling… Falling… Falling… Falling… Falling… Falling… Falling… Falling… Falling… Falling… Falling… Falling… Falling… Falling… Falling… Falling… Falling… Falling… Falling… Falling… Falling… Falling… Falling… Falling… Falling… Falling… Falling… Falling… Falling… Falling… Falling… Falling… Falling…
And falling…
To the very depths of the darkness, I sank. The water pressed against me, crushing, merciless. Every breath was stolen, ripped away by the cruel embrace of the sea. Its currents dragged me deeper, further from the light, and every second stretched into an eternity. Slowly—agonizingly slowly—I reached the threshold of death’s door. My body begged for air, my vision swirled into nothingness… and then—
I awoke.
My chest heaved violently as I gasped for breath, lungs burning as though the ocean still clung to me. Sweat chilled my skin, and my heartbeat thundered in my ears. I should have been afraid—terrified—of what I had just endured. But instead, I understood.
This was no mere dream.
The dead will never leave me.
Every soul I’ve taken follows me, clings to me, whispers at the edges of my sanity. They haunt me in silence, torture me in shadows, binding me to their endless gaze. Even now, as I draw breath in the waking world, their weight presses on me still… reminding me that their deaths are carved into my very existence.
I can never escape them.
Hakata Hotel – Morning, 10:21 A.M.
The curtains in the executive suite were drawn tight, letting only thin blades of sunlight pierce through the heavy fabric. A faint scent of perfume and cigarette smoke lingered in the room, mingling with the sterile coolness of the air conditioner.
At the center of the polished mahogany desk, Veronica placed a folder down with a crisp thud. Sheets of documents fanned out slightly, filled with names, crimes, and photographs clipped in neat order.
“Your next mission,” she declared, her voice sharp yet playful, as if delivering both a command and a tease.
Zero One reached forward, his gloved fingers brushing across the paper before he lifted the top sheet. His eyes narrowed as they scanned the bold black letters.
Target Report
- Name: Hayase Nomura
- Age: 54
- Status: Target for Elimination
- Occupation: Head Chief of Office Business (soon to retire)
- Crimes: Attempted sabotage of classified operation reports belonging to CC Corp and ALGOS. Extortion of the CEO for undisclosed crimes.
Zero One’s eyes lingered on one word. His lips moved before he could stop them.
“…ALGOS?”
Veronica arched an eyebrow, her red lips curving into an amused smile. “Oh? You know that company, don’t you?”
He snapped the folder shut halfway, his tone curt. “…None of your business. Unfortunately.” His gaze sharpened. “And another blackmail case? Just how many enemies do you intend to make?”
Veronica laughed softly, a husky chuckle that danced at the edges of mockery. “Spare me those questions. I’ve told you before—I don’t consider them friends or allies. Betrayers, criminals… they’re all the same these days.”
Zero One’s stare lingered on her, unblinking. “And your bodyguards? You don’t trust them either?”
“They?” Veronica tilted her head back slightly, the faint gleam of her earrings catching the dim light. “They’re merely doing their job. Kneeling before me is proof enough of their loyalty.”
“…And your associates?” His tone dipped lower, the edge unmistakable. “What about him?”
For the first time, Veronica’s smile faltered, though only for a heartbeat. Her voice slipped into something cooler, sharper. “…Is that an interrogation?”
A sigh escaped him, a tired exhale as he slid another sheet from the file and studied it with more care. The man’s photo stared back at him: Hayase Nomura, face aged but eyes carrying an arrogance that hadn’t dimmed.
“Criminal, huh? Sabotaging… classified operations…” His voice lowered, more to himself than to her. “This one’s different. This is new.”
Veronica nodded slowly, arms folded as if savoring the tension in his reaction. “Exactly. This is the task I’m entrusting to you today. Tell me, can you do it?”
He glanced up, suspicion flickering in his eyes. “And these classified operations… you’re talking about that, aren’t you?”
Her smile returned—colder, calculated. “A right hunch. Seems your intellect continues to exceed my expectations.”
Zero One leaned back in the chair, fingers brushing his chin as his gaze sank into thought. A low hum escaped his throat.
“Hm…”
The room grew heavier with silence, as if both already knew the weight of what was being asked—yet neither intended to speak it aloud.
Zero One’s gaze lingered on the words classified operation, his fingers tapping absently against the folder.
The Real Digitalization Project… The thought slipped into his mind unbidden, sharp and heavy. I’ve heard countless rumors that it’s set to commence again. They say it’ll debut under the guise of a closed-beta release, some flashy new online game, “VS THE WORLD.”
He leaned back slightly, eyes half-lidded in thought. The demand’s already skyrocketing, wishlist numbers climbing. CC Corp has shifted gears, diving headfirst into the fighting game genre. That alone makes it suspicious… and yet, THE WORLD: FORCE ERA is still alive, still running strong since the fourth network crisis barely half a year ago.
A faint scoff escaped him. Why a game, though? Another R:X fiasco waiting to happen? Or… something deeper. Akashic Records… could it be that again?
Veronica’s voice broke through his silence, smooth and deliberate. “I hope you don’t have any more questions.” She clasped her hands behind her back, tone almost ceremonial. “Pray for your own luck and success in this mission. Now… up you go.”
Zero One didn’t respond. His silence was its own language—measured, guarded. He closed the folder with a soft snap, tucked it beneath his arm, and rose from the chair.
His boots made no sound as he moved toward the door, the faint glimmer of his reflection catching on the suite’s polished glass walls. Veronica watched him the whole way, her presence a shadow at his back.
As the door clicked open, she let her lips curl into a sly smirk.
“Well,” she murmured under her breath, eyes glinting with amusement. “Let’s see how this plays out…”
15:45 – Zero One’s POV
I’d been keeping my eyes on Hayase Nomura for hours now, hidden among the hum of chatter and clinking of porcelain in the corner of a small café. He hadn’t moved much—just sat there, posture stiff, his cup untouched for far too long. He looked like a man waiting for someone, yet uncertain if that someone would ever arrive.
He was easy enough to locate. Too easy. But orders were orders—I couldn’t move on him until I confirmed the identity of his collaborators.
The dossier Veronica handed me replayed itself in my mind with every glance I stole at him. Hayase Nomura, age fifty-four. Head-chief of business operations for CC Corp ever since the first iteration of The World went live. His name carried weight, but it was his ties that made him dangerous. An acquaintance of Junichiro Tokuoka himself. A man with access to secrets buried so deep they could topple entire empires if they surfaced.
Dark research. Hidden experiments. Classified projects sealed away from the public eye. The truth was, he wasn’t the only one carrying such knowledge—but he was the only one who had been exposed.
That begged the question: If he had been clever enough to bury these truths for decades, why reveal himself now? Why take the risk?
From where I sat, I watched him. He managed a façade of composure—calm breaths, deliberate movements. But body language doesn’t lie. Beneath the mask, his hands trembled ever so slightly. His jaw tightened each time the café door opened. He was desperate, rattled.
Does he know he’s invited a hitman to his table? Or does he already suspect? Perhaps he knew Veronica’s reach, knew that once she caught the scent of betrayal, there was no escaping her. If so, then his days of holding secrets were numbered.
I narrowed my eyes, focusing on the minute shifts in his movements. Then, several minutes later, someone finally approached. A man—casual clothes, press badge barely hidden beneath his coat, notebook in hand.
Looks like a reporter… I thought grimly. So, he’s trying to go public? Journalist, then… but why?
Why risk so much for that to come alone…?
Café Interior
The air in the café felt heavier the moment the man slid into the chair opposite him. His voice was hushed but urgent.
“Glad you’re here…” the journalist whispered.
Hayase’s eyes darted around the café, paranoia etched deep into his features. “Have you been followed?” His head turned sharply, scanning corners, doors, and windows. He needed to be sure.
The journalist shook his head quickly. “No, sir. But… are you certain about this? Sharing all this information—going against your own company? If this comes to light, there’s no turning back.”
Hayase’s lips pressed into a thin line before he exhaled sharply, frustration spilling out. “What other choice do I have? Ever since the incident five years ago—and the two others that followed—this company has rotted. They’ve gone insane! They don’t care about cost, about consequences… not even the lives of their players. As long as their plans keep moving forward, people will continue to be sacrificed—reduced to pawns in their game. Even the news… it’s all fabricated, manipulated!”
The journalist leaned in, voice lowered even further. “Even VS The World?”
Hayase’s composure shattered. His palm slammed against the table with a violent crack, rattling cups and drawing startled gazes from every customer in the room.
“What else could it be!!”
The journalist flinched, eyes widening in shock. Around them, murmurs rippled, strangers whispering. Only one man remained still, unbothered by the outburst—Zero One, watching quietly from a nearby seat, his gaze never leaving Hayase.
Realizing the scene he had caused, Hayase forced himself back into his seat, shoulders trembling as he sighed and tried to gather composure. His voice broke, raw with exhaustion. “This is chaos. I can’t take it anymore… Just how many sins must we commit? Innocents will be dragged into this experiment. And if it continues… little by little, those subjected to Real Digitalization will die. Just like the two hundred who already did five years ago.”
Zero One’s eyes narrowed at the words, though he remained silent, listening.
Hayase’s fingers tangled in his hair, his forehead pressing against his fist as if the weight of memory was too much to bear. His voice cracked with rage and grief. “All two hundred—dead. Victims of short-term Real Digitalization. Not one survived the horrors they endured. And yet…” His teeth ground together. “Yet the company hid it all! Covered it up as if it were nothing. An ‘ordinary incident,’ they said. Next to nothing.” His voice rose again, almost a growl. “What a load of bullshit!”
The café fell into silence again, tension tightening the air. Hayase’s chest heaved, and finally he slumped forward, chin resting against his hand as tears streaked down his cheeks.
“And now this…” His voice wavered, almost childlike in its helplessness. “If they continue, how many more lives will be thrown away? We were supposed to bring hope, joy, and spirit through The World. That was the dream—the most beloved online game in history. And yet… after seeing what they’ve kept hidden, I thought I could ignore it. Pretend it was nothing. But now…” His voice broke, tears spilling freely. “I don’t know anymore. How do we atone for this? How do we face what we’ve done…?”
The journalist’s eyes softened, his notebook forgotten as he leaned closer. “Hayase-san…”
From the corner, Zero One remained motionless, shadowed, listening. His lips tightened into a thin line as the man’s despair echoed in his ears.
“….”
Hayase wiped his tears roughly with the back of his hand, his trembling shoulders settling as if a storm inside him had finally begun to calm. His eyes—bloodshot, but burning with resolve—lifted to meet the journalist’s gaze.
“Which is why… I can’t let this happen anymore,” he said firmly, his voice low but unwavering. “I must stop CC Corp before they drag more innocent lives into danger. That’s why… I want you to have this.”
He reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small black flash drive, its metallic surface gleaming faintly under the café’s dim lights. He set it down on the table between them with a soft clink.
The journalist blinked, startled. “…This?”
Hayase nodded, his stare sharp, almost feverish. “This drive contains everything. All the classified data I managed to steal from CC Corp… and ALTIMIT Corp as well.”
The journalist’s breath caught as Hayase’s words spilled like confessions of a dying man.
“The Twilight Incident. The Third Network Crisis. Immortal Dusk. Bloody Christmas. The Fourth Network Crisis. Real Digitalization. Aura. The Rat Incident…” His voice quickened, almost frantic. “Every event, every crime, every cover-up they’ve buried from the public. It’s all in here. Even the conspirators behind it—including MAMA.”
The journalist swallowed hard, staring at the drive as though it were a live grenade. “That’s… too much. Does this tiny thing even have that much memory?”
A humorless chuckle escaped Hayase. “I paid more money than you can imagine to make sure it did. But that’s not the worst of it. What’s inside… isn’t just history.” His hand clenched into a fist atop the table. “I’ve uncovered something more terrifying. Something recent. Something that ties it all together.”
The journalist leaned in closer, his pen frozen above his notebook. “What… what is it?”
Hayase lowered his voice, his expression darkening as if even speaking the words threatened to summon something unspeakable. His lips moved, forming sounds—syllables, names, fragments—yet the air seemed to shatter around them.
[ INAUDIBLE ]
[ INAUDIBLE ]
[ INAUDIBLE ]
[ INAUDIBLE ]
[ INAUDIBLE ]
[ INAUDIBLE ]
The café’s background noise dulled, muffled, as though reality itself rejected the knowledge he had spoken. Conversations blurred, cups clinked in silence. Even the journalist’s wide eyes reflected nothing but static confusion.
From his corner seat, Zero One stiffened. His usual calm fractured—his pupils dilating as his breath caught.
“…What?”
The word slipped out, barely audible, yet heavier than a bullet. For the first time in hours, Zero One’s mask cracked.
The journalist’s hands trembled slightly as he held the small flash drive, its weight far heavier than its size suggested. His voice cracked with hesitation. “Sir… are you sure you want to bring such classified information into the open like this? If this leaks, there’s no going back.”
Hayase leaned forward, his gaze unyielding. His tone was steady now, the earlier panic hardened into grim determination. “It’s the only way. I’ve carried these sins long enough. I entrust this truth to you—no matter how heavy it is, no matter what choices you make after hearing it. This information must be protected at all costs. No one else can know… except you. And you must trust no one but yourself, until the day comes when it can finally be revealed.”
He exhaled slowly, almost as if freeing himself from a burden that had crushed him for decades. Then, with fire returning to his eyes, he continued: “With this, we can finally put an end to the madness. Twenty years of tyranny, deceit, and bloodshed… all of it. CC Corp, ALTIMIT—everything they’ve built on lies. This is our only chance to dismantle them once and for all.”
The journalist lowered his gaze, fingers tightening around the drive. The enormity of the responsibility was written across his face, but so too was something else—a spark, faint but real, ignited by Hayase’s conviction.
Meanwhile, a few tables away, Zero One sat frozen in silence. His mask of calm was still intact, but beneath it, something cracked. The faintest tremor ran through his clenched fists. His chest tightened, his mind racing.
All of it… every crucial piece of information I’ve ever chased… It’s here. In that drive.
He had prepared himself for many truths. But not this. Not everything.
A Few Hours Later – Night
The night had grown restless. Beyond the glass walls, crowds still surged through the neon-lit streets, their chatter and laughter clashing with the low hum of passing traffic. But here, in the smoking area, it was different—dimly lit, hushed, filled with only the faint glow of cigarette embers and the occasional cough.
Zero One leaned against the metal railing, cigarette between his fingers. The smoke curled upward, dissolving into the night sky. His eyes, however, weren’t on the horizon—they were still tethered to Hayase Nomura, the weight of earlier revelations gnawing at him.
With a steady motion, he slid a phone from his coat pocket and pressed it to his ear. A long ring. Then—
“Hello?” Veronica’s voice came through, light, silken, yet sharp at the edges.
Zero One exhaled a stream of smoke, his tone flat but laced with tension. “That classified information… the one you mentioned in the report. Just how much of it do you have?”
A pause on the other end. Then a faint chuckle, quickly masked. “…Oh, so you know.”
His grip on the phone tightened. “How the hell did you manage to collect so much information? Especially about that one.”
Veronica’s tone shifted, softer, but no less dangerous. “I expected you’d uncover the truth eventually. But I’m afraid… that particular matter is completely classified within our company.”
Zero One’s eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched. “Then answer me this—why exactly do you want him dead?”
The playfulness drained from her voice, leaving only steel. “Because he participated in that project. And he—”
[ INAUDIBLE ]
The words cut through his ears like a blade. His eyes widened, his body tensing as the weight of what she said sank in. For a moment, even the smoke in his lungs felt suffocating.
“…”
On the line, Veronica’s tone quickly returned to its usual lilting cadence. “Anyway, I’ll be expecting your update. I trust you won’t disappoint me. Abide u, adieu.”
The call ended with a click, the screen going black. Zero One lowered the phone slowly, his arm hanging loose at his side. For a long while, he stood there in silence, cigarette burning down between his fingers.
Finally, he sighed, tilting his head back against the night sky, the smoke escaping his lips like a confession he could never speak aloud.
Three Days Later – Night / On the Street
Hayase Nomura’s voice cracked through the silence, brittle and tired.
“Why… why hasn’t it come out yet…?” His words were little more than a whisper. He paced the empty street, shoulders hunched, a man gnawed hollow by doubt. His hand trembled as he rubbed at his temple, fingernails digging into his skin.
“I gave him everything… the truth, the proof… everything. He promised…” His breath hitched, anger bleeding into desperation. “So why is the world still silent? Why does no one know?!”
He stopped, clutching at his chest, forcing himself to breathe. The silence around him pressed in, heavier than any crowd. Each minute that passed without news felt like another betrayal. A gnawing thought clawed at him, one he tried to shove away but couldn’t—
What if they got to him? What if the truth died with him…?
His knees weakened at the thought, a sick dread curling in his gut. He staggered against the wall, eyes wide, whispering as though the darkness itself were listening.
“No… no, please, not that. Not after everything…”
Then—
Footsteps.
Slow. Steady. Approaching.
Hayase froze, his breath catching in his throat. His head snapped around, eyes wide. “Who’s there!?”
A shadow detached itself from the alley’s darkness, a figure stepping forward with unhurried confidence. The glow of a streetlamp caught his outline first, then the gleam of a lens as the man lifted his face into the light.
Zero One.
Hayase’s blood ran cold. His knees weakened as instinct screamed at him: this was punishment given flesh. His eyes darted over the black combat outfit, the cold aura of inevitability that clung to the man.
“W-Who are you…?” His voice trembled, though in his heart he already knew.
Zero One’s tone was flat, his words edged like steel. “Nomura Hayase. Correct.”
Hayase staggered back a step. “H-How do you know my—?” His eyes widened, realization dawning. “Don’t tell me… Veronica sent you here…?”
Zero One reached up, sliding his black-lensed glasses from his face. His exposed eyes glinted with predatory sharpness. “That makes it easier. I can already guess you’re still waiting for the news, aren’t you? The information you handed over…”
Hayase’s face drained of color. “W-What? Don’t tell me… I’ve been tailed this whole time—!”
Zero One’s voice cut through him, low and merciless. “That’s none of your concern. The only question that matters is this—what would you do if the world actually saw the whole truth?”
Hayase’s breath caught in his throat. His fists trembled at his sides, but not from strength—from the weight of everything collapsing around him. He shook his head, voice hoarse, each word dragged out like it hurt to speak.
“The world… it doesn’t matter what they think anymore,” he whispered. His gaze flickered, not with fire, but with exhaustion. “I just… I just wanted it to end. The lies, the silence, the sacrifices… every time they call it progress, more people die.”
His knees wavered, but he forced himself upright, staring at Zero One with bloodshot eyes. His voice cracked, raw with grief.
“If I could stop even one more incident, even one more death… then maybe…” He swallowed hard, his shoulders sagging. “…maybe it wouldn’t all be meaningless.”
Zero One tilted his head slightly, studying him. For a moment, the assassin saw not defiance, but a broken man clutching to scraps of hope.
“Brave words… for you at least” he said quietly. Then his tone hardened, final. “But I’ve got some bad news for you…”
Hayase swallowed, sweat dripping down his temple. His body trembled, every instinct screaming to run, though he knew it was already too late.
“….”
Zero One’s lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. His voice dropped lower, almost conversational.
“If you’re talking about that journalist…” he let the pause stretch, his tone sharpening like a blade. “…you could say I’ve got it all handled.”
Hayase’s eyes widened. “Y-You what?!”
Zero One tilted his head ever so slightly, his hand brushing against the device at his ear. “Oh—speak of the devil. The news just came in.”
Hayase whipped his head toward the giant screen across the street, where a late-night broadcast had just shifted.
The anchor’s voice was clear, merciless:
“And in other news—A man in his thirties has been found murdered in his apartment. According to neighbors, the door was left unlocked, and the discovery was made earlier this afternoon. Authorities have confirmed the victim to be a journalist for NEWS Capture. Colleagues state he had planned to reveal what they described as ‘the greatest and hardest truth in modern history.’ Unfortunately, all related materials are now considered lost… along with his life.”
Hayase’s world stopped.
His breath hitched violently. His vision blurred as his knees nearly buckled beneath him. No. It can’t be…
The journalist. The only one he entrusted. The only one who could have carried the truth into the light. Dead.
And the man standing before him… there could be no doubt.
Hayase’s lips trembled, words stumbling out as his body quaked. “Y-You!! Don’t tell me… YOU!!”
Zero One’s gaze didn’t waver. Cold. Detached. “Believe what you want. But thanks to him, I was able to find you.”
The last strands of hope inside Hayase snapped, replaced with raw, choking fear. His voice cracked, breaking under desperation. “Wh-Why? Why did you do this?!”
Zero One said nothing at first. Silence was its own executioner. Then, with the weight of inevitability, he reached inside his coat.
The metallic click was deafening.
Zero One drew his sidearm, raising it with an unflinching hand until the barrel leveled directly at Hayase’s chest.
Hayase staggered back, eyes widening, his voice no more than a strangled cry. “Ah—!”
Zero One’s face was an emotionless mask, his eyes like dead glass. His words fell with the finality of a verdict.
“Business. Nothing personal.”
The night itself seemed to flinch at the trigger’s subtle shift.
Hayase’s whole body trembled, but not just from fear anymore. His jaw locked tight, teeth grinding until his head throbbed. Rage boiled beneath his skin, pushing back against the dread trying to suffocate him. His fists curled so tight his nails dug into his palms.
“Damn you!!” he spat, his voice cracking with venom. “Veronica’s pawn—bastard bitch!!”
Fueled by desperation, Hayase forced himself upright, muscles stiff as iron, every nerve in his body screaming to fight. He drew his arm back, ready to swing with all the fury he had left, his feet carrying him forward.
But then he stopped.
It wasn’t hesitation—
He didn’t move fast, nor did he need to. Standing there with the gun poised, eyes dark and soulless, he was the embodiment of judgment itself. Cold. Menacing. Merciless.
Looking into those eyes was like staring into the mouth of hell. A devil in human form, his gaze dragged Hayase downward, chains of terror pulling him toward an endless abyss.
The fury inside Hayase wavered, corroded by that unbearable weight of fear. His breath quickened into ragged gasps, chest heaving as the reality crashed in.
“G-Gaah… A-AARRRRGHHHHH!!!”
The defiance shattered. He turned, stumbling, panic breaking his voice as he bolted down the street, clawing for escape, any escape.
Behind him, Zero One said nothing.
Silent. Steady.
He simply advanced, step by step, the predator closing in on prey that could never outrun him.
“Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! SHIT!!”
Hayase’s voice cracked, bouncing off the empty walls of the back alley as he stumbled forward, his breath tearing through his lungs. His thoughts scattered into fragments, every word dissolving into a mantra of pure terror.
“I don’t want to die… I don’t want to die… I don’t want to die…”
The words spilled from his lips like a prayer, like a curse, repeating over and over, faster and faster until he could hardly hear himself anymore. He wasn’t thinking, wasn’t seeing—just running. His legs flailed wildly, driven only by instinct, as if the devil himself were clawing at his heels.
That gaze…
The memory of those eyes wouldn’t leave him. Eyes that didn’t see a man, but prey. Eyes that stripped him bare, marked him, hunted him. His chest seized at the thought, his mind replaying the journalist’s corpse, cold and lifeless, and the cruel truth that his last hope had already been erased.
“How could Veronica hire someone like that?” Hayase rasped between gasps. “Who is he? What is he? If I had known… I would’ve run from the start…”
The words stumbled out as his feet did the same. His vision blurred. Panic throbbed in his skull until he couldn’t think straight—until the world spun into chaos.
“D-Damn it… how… how could this— W-Whoa—!!”
His foot caught the broken edge of pavement. The world tilted. He pitched forward with a guttural cry.
CRASH
“GAAAHH—!!” His body slammed into the concrete, pain shooting up his side. His ankle twisted, white-hot agony slicing through his leg. “M-My leg—!! GAAAGHH!!”
He clawed at the ground, dragging himself forward, every breath ragged, every nerve alight.
Then—
PFFT!
A muffled burst echoed in the night.
The world froze.
Pain exploded through his calf as the silenced round ripped flesh and bone.
“G-GAAAAAAAAGHHHHH!!!”
His scream ripped from his throat, raw and animal, echoing across the narrow street. Blood slicked his hands as he clutched the wound, body convulsing with every spasm of agony. His face twisted, drenched in sweat and tears, veins bulging as the torment consumed him.
He tried to crawl, tried to move, but the leg wouldn’t obey. Every twitch sent another wave of unbearable fire through his body. All he could do was writhe in the dirt, screaming, broken, unable to escape.
And behind him… footsteps.
Slow. Steady. Inevitable.
Zero One was closing in.
Hayase writhed in the dirt, clutching his ruined leg. Blood seeped hot between his fingers, staining the pavement beneath him. His scream tore through the night, raw and guttural.
“My leg… MY LEG!!!”
A shadow loomed.
Zero One stepped into view, his expression unreadable, his footsteps deliberate and measured.
“Done running?”
The words fell cold, almost casual. Yet to Hayase, they were a death sentence.
His eyes widened, terror burning through his veins. He dragged himself backward, body trembling violently as the figure approached. The air itself seemed to grow heavier, suffocating him.
“C-CAN’T YOU SEE WITH YOUR FUCKING EYES?!” Hayase howled, spittle flying from his lips. “MY LEG CAN’T EVEN MOVE! DAMMIT!!!”
Zero One said nothing. His silence was worse than words—an emptiness that drowned out everything else.
And then, through the haze of agony, a single thought clawed its way out of Hayase’s mind. His last desperate question.
“If… if you’re already after us…” His voice cracked, choking on his breath. “Then you must’ve taken it… that flash disc… Where is it?!”
Zero One didn’t pause. His eyes remained cold, unwavering.
“I already burned it.”
Hayase’s breath hitched. His mind froze.
“W-W-What?”
“That takes care of it.”
The words cut deeper than the bullet ever could.
Hayase’s face twisted in horror, his disbelief collapsing into despair. That disc—his only leverage, his only hope to fight back, to expose everything—it was gone. Burned to ash. His dreams, his chance, his future, all reduced to nothing by the man standing before him.
“No…” His voice trembled, weak and broken. “No… No… NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!”
The scream ripped from his throat, raw agony that echoed down the empty street. He slammed his fists into the ground, tears streaking down his face as the truth consumed him. Everything he fought for, everything he tried to protect, had slipped through his fingers.
And now, the devil stood over him.
For Zero One, the mission was already complete. The disc was gone, the threat erased. Yet it wasn’t over—not until Hayase Nomura was silenced forever.
But before the end came… Zero One stopped.
He looked down at the broken man before him.
And waited.
Hayase’s breathing grew ragged, each gasp tearing at his chest. His fingers clawed at the dirt as he struggled to rise, hatred boiling out of him.
“Grrrrgggghhhh!!”
Zero One slowly turned his head, eyes narrowing.
“…Hmm.”
The broken man before him convulsed with rage. His voice cracked, rising to a fever pitch.
“GRRAAAAAAGHHH! DAAAAMMMMN YOOOU!!!”
Zero One remained still. Silent. Watching.
For a moment, it startled him—not fear, but the sheer force of Hayase’s anger, a last flame erupting before it burned itself out.
Hayase bared his teeth, his voice cracking under the weight of grief and fury.
“It’s all your fault… all of you! CC Corp… The World… everything we built—twisted into a lie. A hollow shell to bury the truth.”
His chest heaved as memories clawed their way up, jagged and raw.
“The Network Crisis… Immortal Dusk… Real Digitalization…” His words faltered, the names spilling from him like curses. “I watched them cover it up—each disaster, each stolen life—swept aside as if they were nothing. I carried those ghosts… I thought I could live with it… but now…”
His fists clenched, trembling, his voice rising not with madness but with despair.
“Now it’s happening again. And you… you’re here to silence me, just like all the others.”
His body shook, torn between fury and pain, yet he pushed the words through clenched teeth.
“All of you… everything you’ve touched… nothing but disgrace. A stain on this world. You’ll never save the earth. Not you, not them, not anyone. Your ideals? Just excuses to justify blood on your hands.”
Sweat poured down his face, his chest heaving, but his words carried a bitter edge more cutting than rage.
“In the end… it’s all a game. A political mask for rotten desires. They never cared about us. That’s the truth. If people like you—if that woman Veronica… no… MAMA—never existed… then maybe…”\
“Are you done talking?” Zero One’s voice cut through his tirade, sharp and flat like a blade.
“Damn you!!” Hayase rasped, his voice ragged, choked with pain. Blood poured from his leg, each word dragged out between gasps.
His shoulders trembled, but he still forced himself upright, leaning on the wall for support. His eyes locked onto Zero One—bloodshot, desperate, but burning with something more than fear.
“You think pulling that trigger makes you powerful?” he spat, voice breaking. “You’re nothing but their tool. A weapon they point at whoever dares to resist. That’s all you are… nothing more.”
His face twisted, tears streaking down his cheeks, his voice cracking as grief and rage tangled together.
“Do you even know how many lives you’ve taken? Innocents, families… people who never even had the chance to fight back. You call it business, but it’s murder. Cold, senseless murder. And no matter how you hide behind that mask, that’s what you’ll always be.”
His body sagged, but his words cut like broken glass.
“A murderer. Just like Veronica. Just like all of them.”
BANG!
The gunshot echoed against the walls. Hayase’s scream tore through the night.
“Gh—GAAAAAAAAAAGGGHHHHHH!!”
His body writhed on the ground, blood soaking into the dirt. His voice cracked as he wailed:
“It hurts… IT HURTS!”
Zero One’s shadow loomed over him, expression unreadable, voice a low growl of indifference.
“…Do I need to stand here… just to give a shit about your opinion of me?”
Hayase’s eyes blazed, even through the agony.
“G-G-Go to hell!!”
BANG!
Another shot. His left hand exploded with pain. He howled, his body convulsing.
“GAAAAAAGGGHHHH!!!”
Zero One tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing like a predator about to end the hunt.
“…I guess it’s time for your bedtime.”
Hayase panted heavily, sweat and blood running down his face, but his voice didn’t falter. His last strength came not from his body—but from the hatred burning inside him.
“I swear to you…” Hayase rasped, his voice shaking, raw with pain. “You—and CC Corp—will rot in hell. Like the cohorts who bled this world dry… like the innocents they trampled under their lies. For every sin… for every crime… all of you will fall.”
Zero One stood over him in silence. He listened—not with sympathy, but with the cold detachment of someone already beyond human. Slowly, he raised his gun, the barrel glinting faintly as it aligned with Hayase’s head.
Their eyes met—one burning with hatred and grief, the other empty, unflinching.
Zero One’s voice was low, menacing, final:
“…Then say hi to the people I killed… in hell.”
The air thickened. Time slowed.
BANG!
TO BE CONTINUED…