Morry lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling while letting out a slow, heavy breath. The mattress beneath him was stiff, unfamiliar, yet exhaustion pressed down on his body far more than the bed ever could.
"So in this world… everyone's a criminal What kind of place is this"
He muttered while pressing his palm against his forehead. The thought surfaced after recalling the conversation he had overheard between Elliot and Arden earlier. Their voices had been low, deliberate, exchanging information about an organization that had begun moving again within the entertainment sector.
That conversation had started shortly after they shook hands with Elliot. With a broad grin, the red haired man had dragged both Arden and Morry toward the farthest table in the café, tucked deep into the corner where shadows gathered. They agreed without hesitation and took their seats. Elliot ordered drinks for all three of them, something strong, judging by the sharp scent that rose from the glasses.
The noise of the café faded slightly at that corner. Laughter still echoed, but it felt distant, muted by the thick wooden walls and cigarette smoke hanging in the air.
"So, Arden," Elliot said, his tone shifting, losing its playful edge. "How's their movement been lately Did you pick up anything useful"
His voice was calm, but there was something sharp beneath it, like a blade hidden behind a smile.
Arden leaned back in his chair, one arm resting casually against the table. "They're not rushing," he replied. "But they're definitely active again. Quiet investments. Shell businesses. Most of them tied to entertainment."
"Figures," Elliot scoffed. "They always crawl back through places full of lights and applause."
Morry sat quietly, his glass untouched. He listened, careful not to draw attention to himself.
"They call themselves Happines now," Arden continued. "Same core members. Different mask."
At that name, Elliot's expression darkened.
"Happines," he repeated slowly. "Those lunatics never learn."
Morry frowned slightly. The name felt wrong, almost mocking.
"Happines is an organization made up of psychos," Elliot explained, glancing briefly at Morry before continuing. "They dress like circus clowns. Bright colors. Laughing masks. But behind that nonsense, they're monsters."
"They believe chaos is joy," Arden added. "Fear, despair, madness. To them, that's happiness."
Morry's fingers tightened around the glass.
"And what makes them dangerous," Elliot went on, "isn't just their insanity. It's their Cards."
"Cards" Morry repeated quietly, unable to stop himself.
Neither of them reacted negatively.
"In this world," Arden explained, "power doesn't come from bloodlines or talent alone. It comes from belief."
Elliot leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.
"A Card is magic born from conviction. From desire. From someone's need to possess something," he said. "Strength. Freedom. Revenge. Love. Control. The stronger the belief, the stronger the Card."
"Happines members are extreme," Arden continued. "Their minds are broken, but that makes their belief pure. Twisted, but pure. That's why their Cards are dangerous."
Morry felt a chill crawl up his spine.
"So they're moving again," Elliot said, his voice low. "And that means trouble."
Arden nodded. "Big trouble."
Morry looked down at his reflection in the dark surface of the table, his heartbeat slow but heavy. He had been reborn into the body of a talented assassin, into a world where madness shaped power itself.
And somehow, he was already caught in the middle of it.
The silence in the room returned once the memory faded. Morry remained lying on the bed, his gaze fixed on the ceiling, watching faint shadows crawl across the cracked surface as the light outside shifted. The words they had spoken earlier refused to leave his mind. Happines. Cards. Belief. Madness as power. None of it felt real, yet all of it weighed heavily on his chest.
He turned slightly, staring at his own hand. This body did not feel like his, yet it responded as if it had always belonged to him. Stronger. Steadier. Dangerous. The thought alone made his stomach tighten.
"So everyone has a Card," he murmured to himself. "Then what about me What about Kael"
The question lingered in the air, unanswered. A part of him wanted to ask Arden directly, but instinct told him not to. Some knowledge was not meant to be rushed. In a world like this, ignorance could be safer than curiosity.
He sat up slowly, resting his elbows on his knees. His mind replayed Elliot's explanation again and again. A Card was born from conviction, from desire, from the need to possess something. Morry tried to search himself, but all he found was emptiness layered with fear and regret. In his old life, he had wanted nothing. Expected nothing. Believed in nothing.
So what kind of Card could someone like him even have
The room felt colder the longer he stayed there. The walls were bare, functional, devoid of any warmth. This was not a place meant for rest. It was a place meant for waiting.
Time passed without meaning.
Eventually, a knock echoed against the door.
Morry stiffened.
The door opened before he could respond.
Arden stepped inside, his presence calm yet heavy, as if the room itself adjusted around him. He looked exactly as he always did, composed, focused, eyes sharp with intent.
"You're awake," Arden said.
Morry nodded. "I was thinking."
"That's dangerous," Arden replied dryly, then turned toward the door. "Get ready."
Morry blinked. "Ready For what"
"A job," Arden answered. "Simple one. But it'll help clear your head."
Morry hesitated, standing slowly. His heart beat faster, not from fear alone, but from realization. There was no easing into this life. No adjustment period. No time to process rebirth or morality.
This was the world of Kael Mortis.
And it moved forward whether he understood it or not.
"Alright," Morry said quietly, forcing steadiness into his voice.
Arden glanced back at him, studying him for a brief moment, as if searching for something beneath the surface.
"Try not to overthink," he said. "You'll remember what you need to remember when it matters."
With that, he stepped out into the hallway.
Morry followed, leaving the room behind, his unanswered questions trailing after him like shadows. Somewhere within him, something stirred. Not clarity. Not confidence.
The hallway outside the room was narrow and dimly lit, its walls stained with age and neglect. Each step Morry took echoed faintly, the sound following him like a reminder that he was no longer alone in his thoughts. Arden walked a few paces ahead, his stride steady, unhurried, as if he had done this countless times before.
Morry watched him carefully.
This was a man who belonged here.
They descended the stairs and stepped outside. The night air greeted them with a sharp chill, carrying the familiar weight of fog that clung low to the streets. Streetlights cast dull halos of light that barely pierced the mist. Somewhere in the distance, an engine rumbled, then faded away.
Arden headed straight for the car.
Morry followed, shoving his hands into his pockets. His mind was still tangled with questions, but one rose above the rest.
"So," he began cautiously, "what's the job"
Arden unlocked the car with a soft click but did not open the door immediately. He paused, eyes scanning the street out of habit.
"We're picking someone up," he said. "Alive."
Morry's brow furrowed. "Picking up"
"Capturing," Arden corrected calmly. "A man named Octo."
The name meant nothing to Morry, yet the way Arden said it made his chest tighten.
"Who is he"
"A problem," Arden replied as he opened the car door. "Independent operator. Small scale, but reckless. He's been interfering with business routes tied to Happines."
Morry slid into the passenger seat, the leather cold against his back. Arden took the driver's side and started the engine, but the car remained parked.
"He's not part of them," Arden continued. "At least, not officially. But he's useful to them. That makes him dangerous."
Morry nodded slowly, trying to absorb every word. "And we're just… grabbing him"
"If possible," Arden said, eyes forward. "We need information. Names. Locations. Anything he's touched."
Morry hesitated before speaking again. "And if it's not possible"
Arden glanced at him briefly, then returned his gaze to the road.
"Then we improvise."
The engine roared to life as the car pulled away from the curb. Buildings slid past the windows, their shapes distorted by fog and darkness. Morry's reflection flickered faintly against the glass, unfamiliar yet undeniably his.
"Octo uses a Card," Arden added. "Unstable one."
Morry's heart skipped slightly. "What kind"
"That's something you'll find out yourself," Arden replied. "If you're paying attention."
The car turned onto a narrower road, the city growing quieter with every passing block. Morry leaned back in his seat, exhaling slowly. He still did not understand this world, nor the role he was expected to play in it.
"All right"