The next few hours passed without much happening.
They watched movies, ate the surprisingly good airplane food, and eventually the cabin lights dimmed. Somewhere between a second movie and half a dessert, Miku leaned against Len's shoulder and fell asleep.
Len stayed still, careful not to wake her.
When the announcement for landing came, the cabin stirred. Len gently nudged her.
"Miku… we're landing."
She mumbled something incoherent, then slowly opened her eyes, blinking like a confused cat.
"Oh… already?"
They gathered their bags as the plane descended.
Before leaving first class, Len stopped in front of the man who had been relocated earlier.
"Hey," Len said, a little sheepish. "Sorry about that."
Miku nodded and handed him a small bag.
Inside were limited-edition Vocaloid merch—signed, sealed, and very much the kind of thing that would sell for a ridiculous price online.
The man stared inside the bag. Then back at them.
"…All is forgiven."
Len and Miku shared a relieved look.
As they stepped off the plane, the city of New Meridian waited below.
And neither of them knew yet—
The moment they crossed into Canopy Kingdom, nothing was going to stay normal.
Meanwhile, across the city—
They felt it.
Not a sound. Not a signal.
Just a pressure, like the air itself had shifted.
In alleyways and rooftops, something stirred.
Parasites twitched.
Ancient weapons hummed.
Old powers that had slept for years suddenly became aware.
In the casino, Eliza paused mid-step, one finger tightening around her glass.
"…That's new."
In the graveyard, stone cracked as something long buried drew a breath it didn't need.
Leviathan's eye narrowed.
"So… it finally noticed us."
High above the streets, unseen by anyone, the city itself seemed to hold its breath.
Whatever had crossed the border—
It wasn't magic.
And that made it worse.
Filia froze.
For half a second—just half a second—Samson went wild.
Black strands snapped upward like struck wires, bristling, writhing, reacting to something that wasn't there… and yet very much was.
Filia grabbed her head. "Ow—what was that?!"
Samson stilled as suddenly as it had started.
"…Huh," he muttered. "Must've been static."
Filia frowned, scanning the street. Nothing looked wrong. People moved. Cars passed. The city breathed like normal.
Still, she had the uneasy feeling that something had just stepped into her world.
Back with Len.
The airport doors slid open, and warm city air hit them both at once.
Len stretched and pulled out his phone, the map already open.
"The hotel for the fighters is nearby," he said. "We can just take a taxi there."
Miku looked around, eyes bright with curiosity as she took in New Meridian.
"Wow… this place feels loud," she said. "Not sound-wise. Just… heavy."
Len shrugged, pocketing his phone.
"Probably just jet lag."
Somewhere far above them—
The Mother Network listened.
And New Meridian didn't realize it had just been mapped.
After a while, the taxi pulled up in front of the hotel reserved for the fighters.
Len stepped out first and offered a hand, helping Miku down. Both of them looked up at the building.
It was… grand.
Tall marble pillars, gold-trimmed windows, and banners hanging from the sides like this place was hosting royalty instead of people who regularly tried to kill each other.
"…Wow," Miku said.
Len nodded. "Yeah. Definitely not budget-friendly."
They grabbed their bags and headed inside.
The lobby was massive—polished floors, chandeliers, soft music playing somewhere in the background. Fighters passed by here and there, some openly armed, others pretending not to be.
As Len and Miku walked through the hall, a CCTV camera mounted high on the wall slowly turned.
It zoomed in on them.
Then, just as quietly, it returned to its original position.
Meanwhile, in a separate room—
Monitors lined the walls, each showing a different angle of the hotel. Guards and staff watched silently.
One of them leaned closer to a screen.
"New fighter arrived."
Another pulled up the roster and scanned it.
"…That should be all of them, I think?"
The screen showed Len and Miku disappearing into the elevator.
No alarms rang.
No warnings triggered.
Somehow, that made it worse.
Inside, it was quiet. Too quiet.
Miku leaned back against the wall, hugging her bag. "So… fighter hotel, huh."
Len glanced at the glowing floor numbers as they ticked upward.
"Yeah. Guess this is where everyone stays before trying to beat each other half to death."
Miku smiled. "Romantic."
The elevator gave a small lurch.
Not enough to panic—but enough for Len to feel it.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
He pulled it out.
No signal.
No error message.
Just… nothing. Like the screen had forgotten what it was supposed to show.
Len frowned. '…That's new.'
The elevator reached their floor and opened like nothing happened.
They stepped out into a long hallway, carpet deep enough to silence footsteps. Doors lined both sides, each marked with a gold number and a small emblem of the Skullheart beneath it.
Miku squinted. "Why does a hotel need that many wards?"
Len paused. "Those are wards?"
"…Yeah," she said slowly. "You don't see them?"
Len looked again.
Nothing. Just decorations.
"Guess not."
They found their room.
Len tapped the keycard.
The door opened instantly.
Inside was… nice. Too nice. Spacious, clean, with a wide window overlooking New Meridian's skyline.
Miku dropped onto the bed face-first. "Okay, I forgive the chaos. This mattress alone is worth it."
Len chuckled and set his bag down.
Then he felt it.
That same pressure again.
Not danger. Not hostility.
More like—
Being observed.
He glanced toward the window.
Across the city, far away—
Something old adjusted its focus.
Back in the monitor room, a guard frowned at one screen.
"…Hey. Did anyone authorize a second profile?"
Another leaned over. "What second profile?"
The screen flickered.
For a single frame, Len's silhouette split—one human-shaped, the other something vast, abstract, layered in unreadable geometry.
Then it snapped back to normal.
The guard swallowed.
"…Probably just interference."
In their room, Len shook his head, brushing the feeling off.
"Alright," he said. "We check in, rest, and tomorrow I figure out why someone thought inviting me here was a good idea."
Miku rolled onto her side, smiling at him.
"Relax. What's the worst that could happen?"
Miku looked at Len and stretched, hands behind her head.
"I'm gonna take a shower. You can explore the hotel in the meantime."
She turned toward the bathroom, then stopped halfway.
Glancing back over her shoulder, she gave him a teasing smile.
"…Or you can join me."
Len laughed softly, shaking his head.
"It's fine. We've already done that plenty of times."
Miku pouted, clearly disappointed, but didn't push it.
"Tch. Boring," she muttered, though the smile never left her face.
She closed the bathroom door behind her.
The sound of running water followed.
Len exhaled and flopped back onto the couch.
'Yeah… definitely a fighter hotel,' he thought. 'And I haven't even left the room yet.'
Somewhere deep within the building, unseen systems adjusted—
quietly marking Len Kagamine as active.
And the tournament had not even begun.
Len left the room and headed downstairs, drawn by the soft lights and low hum of voices.
The hotel felt different at night—quieter, heavier. Like everyone inside was waiting for something.
He walked down the hall and spotted what looked like the hotel bar. After a moment's thought, he stepped inside.
Len was legally old enough to drink, even if his height didn't exactly sell it.
He took a seat at the counter.
The bartender glanced down at him, eyebrow raised.
"Aren't you a bit young?"
Len slid his card across the bar.
"Check."
The bartender scanned it, paused, then handed it back.
"…Sorry, sir."
Len chuckled. "No problem."
As the bartender turned away, Len's attention shifted to the person sitting beside him.
A red-haired woman.
She wore a black, long-sleeved turtleneck, a black skirt, and flat shoes—simple, professional, controlled. One eye was hidden beneath her hair.
She was sipping something that looked expensive. Carefully measured. No rush.
Len noticed it immediately.
A Luger pistol, perfectly concealed.
Most people would've missed it.
Len didn't.
[Insert image of Parasoul]
He didn't stare. Didn't react. Just kept his eyes forward.
'Military posture,' he noted. 'Professional carry. Not a bodyguard.'
Definitely a fighter.
The woman spoke without looking at him.
"…You're new."
It wasn't a question.
Parasoul took another slow sip of her drink.
"You don't look like a fighter," she said calmly. "Too relaxed."
Len shrugged slightly.
"Long flight."
The bartender returned. "What'll it be?"
Len glanced at the bottles, then shook his head.
"Just water, please."
The bartender blinked. "Water?"
"Yeah."
Parasoul finally turned her head, one visible eye studying him properly now.
"At a bar?" she asked.
Len smiled, small and polite.
"I don't like drinking when I'm having a conversation."
She raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"
Len hesitated for half a second.
'Because it was embarrassing last time,' he thought.
"Personal rule," he said instead.
The bartender set the glass down and walked off.
Parasoul watched him take a sip, then spoke again—casual, but sharp.
"You noticed."
Len didn't pretend to misunderstand.
"Your gun? Yeah."
Her hand didn't move. Her posture didn't change.
Only her eye narrowed.
"…Most people don't."
Len tilted his glass slightly. "Most people aren't looking."
Silence settled between them—not hostile, but measured.
Parasoul studied him for another moment, then turned back to her drink.
"So," she said, voice neutral, "new fighter. You armed?"
Len shook his head.
"No."
She glanced at him again. "Not even a knife?"
"Nope."
"…Then you're either very confident," she said, "or very stupid."
Len smiled.
"I get that a lot."
That earned the smallest reaction—a faint twitch at the corner of her mouth.
Parasoul exhaled slowly.
"…Interesting."
In her mind, she adjusted her assessment.
Not drunk. Not reckless. Observant.
And lying by omission.
For the first time since the tournament was announced—
Parasoul was paying attention.
Parasoul set her glass down.
"So," she said, tone calm but probing, "why are you in the tournament?"
Len shrugged, eyes on his water.
"I got a letter. I could've ignored it, but… I got curious."
Parasoul studied him.
"Curiosity killed the cat."
Len glanced at her and replied easily,
"And satisfaction brought it back."
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Len lifted a finger. "Two apple ciders, please."
Parasoul blinked.
"…For both of us?"
"Yeah."
She didn't argue.
Then—
The bar doors slammed open.
"HEY!!"
Both of them turned as a girl practically charged inside.
Messy black hair that definitely wasn't obeying gravity. School uniform. Bright eyes full of panic and determination.
She scanned the room, spotted Len, and pointed at him.
"YOU!"
Len stiffened.
'…Do I know you?'
Parasoul's hand shifted just enough to be noticeable.
The girl marched over, slammed her hands on the counter, and leaned in way too close.
"Did you feel that too?!" she demanded.
Len blinked. "Feel what?"
She groaned, dragging a hand down her face.
"Ugh, never mind! Samson went nuts and then just—stopped!"
Parasoul's eye flicked to the moving hair.
…The hair that blinked.
She didn't reach for her gun.
But she very carefully adjusted her stance.
"…And you are?" Parasoul asked.
The girl straightened. "Filia."
Then she looked at Len again.
"And you're new. I would've remembered you."
Len raised his glass slightly.
"Len."
Filia squinted. "…Huh."
The bartender slid the apple ciders over.
Filia stared at them.
"…Why does that smell good?"
Parasoul exhaled slowly through her nose.
Whatever this kid was—
She wasn't on the files.
And somehow, that made the situation worse.
Filia leaned closer, eyes bright.
"So, what's your name?"
Len smiled.
"Len Kagamine."
She froze.
Then she jumped.
"WAIT—Len Kagamine?! Like—the Len Kagamine?! You're a Vocaloid!"
Len scratched the back of his head, laughing a little.
"T-thanks?"
Filia grabbed the counter.
"I listen to Batsubyo on repeat!"
Len laughed properly this time.
"That's good. I'm really glad you enjoy our music."
Filia spun toward Parasoul, baffled.
"Hey—why aren't you reacting?! He's a super famous idol!"
Parasoul calmly took a sip of her apple cider.
"I already did."
Len paused. Slowly turned toward her.
'…How long?'
Without saying a word, Parasoul pulled out her phone and turned the screen toward him.
A playlist.
Butterfly on Your Right Shoulder
Holy Lance Explosion Boy
Fire◎Flower
Law-Evading Rock
…and more.
Len blinked.
Once.
Twice.
'Those are all my songs.'
Filia leaned over Parasoul's shoulder.
"WAIT, YOU TOO?!"
Parasoul locked her phone and slid it away.
"Good music is good music."
Len stared at her, then chuckled.
"…I don't know whether to feel flattered or exposed."
Parasoul allowed herself a small, almost invisible smile.
"Both."
Filia grinned.
"Wow. First day and you're already winning people over."
Len lifted his glass.
"I swear, I didn't plan this."
Somewhere deep inside the hotel—
Another unseen system quietly updated Len Kagamine's threat profile.
From Unknown
to Complicated.
And the night was still young.
To be continued
Hope people like this ch and give me power stones and enjoy