Back in his apartment, Nox dropped onto the bed with a flop, the springs singing in rusty language. The mattress groaned under him like it had just been woken up from a sleep.
With a half-fetched motion, he pulled Nebular from the bag and flung her next to him on the mattress.
"Ugh, these days do not get easier any time soon, do they, what's your energy?"
Nebular gave a small flicker of green, her voice half-sarcastic, half-drowsy.
"Seventy-two percent. So don't worry about my energy level. Yours seems way more critical now, but you should get your beauty sleep."
"Yeah exactly, finally someone who gets it."
They both chuckled for a moment.
"Sorry for the bag thing, Neb. I thought I might need you, but we didn't get the chance."
His face turned slightly toward her as he tried his best to mimic a smirky smile, though he was way too tired for that. All that came across was a half-asleep fox trying to say sorry.
"It's okay. It was even slightly better than your pocket."
She turned off the apartment lights without another word.
Only her soft, ocean-blue glow remained, gently illuminating the scattered shadows across the room. The cleaned room was unfamiliar yet comforting.
After a few seconds, she dimmed it... and then went fully black.
A single blink of cyan.
"Good night."
The room fell completely still. A distant hum from the city filtered through the cracked window inside.
Nox shifted once, tail curling closer around his leg.
"Night, Neb…" he mumbled, barely audible.
And with that, the apartment surrendered to the dark, quiet, safe, and just a little less lonely.
Far off, the murmur of the streets kept on ticking. A muffled bassline vibrated from some club blocks away, half-consumed by distance. Laughter, a shout. The screech of an airborne tram skimming the upper edge of the living district. The walls of Coreline were rarely fully silent. Even the dust had its own rhythm.
As Nox fell asleep, the music in his mind grew louder, the darkness behind his eyelids turning into lights that danced to the rhythm of the beat.
Figures appeared, blurry at first, then sharper, vibrant. People of all shapes and species, laughing, shouting, swaying with the music. And at the center of it all, as if gravity had a favorite, stood Millio, spinning in place like a DJ whose set was a performance art piece. The crowd around him cheered, raising drinks, shouting his name.
"Missin' one crucial piece tonight," Millio boomed, voice somehow reaching across the thrum. "The fox who bailed because of... relationship drama!" The crowd booed playfully, all eyes suddenly on Nox as if he were caught peeking in from backstage.
Nox turned too, catching a glimpse of a glowing window in the distance. His apartment was shifting now, walls melting into panels, panels dissolving into rooftops, the floor beneath his feet becoming his familiar, fragile sheet roof. He was standing there, between his and Zee's window, suspended between two lives. One foot in his world. One in hers.
Connected, but still remote. Like blue and red. Like fire and water.
"Like a fox and a cat," Nebular's voice hissed, distant but clear. Not visible. Just there. Like an echo that knew its place.
She continued, calm and strange. "In the old districts, there's a superstition. If a fox and a cat form a bond, it brings balance to a neighborhood. Something about curiosity meeting cleverness. They say it keeps the chaos in check."
Nox blinked slowly as if time wasn't a concept in this realm. "Chaos… in check, huh?"
He dropped onto his back again. The roof beneath him didn't feel like steel, it felt like fog. Soft, floating, endless.
"I like my chaos."
He twisted one ear, curling his tail next to him.
"Do you?" Nebular's voice lowered, almost uncertain. "Or did you just accept the things you couldn't change forcing yourself to love them?"
Her voice came from the darkness itself, each syllable sending a soft ripple of pale blue light curling into the fog that surrounded Nox like the center of a storm made out of silence and darkness.
"I—"
Nox stuttered, unable to speak. Until…
BZZZT.
His phone buzzed. Loud. Rude. Real.
He blinked awake, eyes struggling to adjust to the faint light creeping past the blinds. The artificial daylight from "sunlight" LEDs all around Coreline went on at exactly 6:00 in the morning, every day.
He was back in his room. Back in the warmth of his ripped blanket and the quiet hiss of his overworked fridge.
The screen lit up. Millio.
Nox groaned and rolled to the side, swiping to answer and smacking the loudspeaker button with his thumb.
Millio's voice exploded through the tiny speaker like an over-caffeinated grenade.
"NOX! Buddy! Tell me you're awake! No wait, don't tell me, just get up. Big news. Big party news! They delayed it a few days. People say they will flush today."
"I-ugh… it's seven in the morning, why are you calling already..." Nox rubbed his face with both palms of his paws.
He sat up, glancing around the apartment. It still startled him how clean it looked. No spare wires to trip over. No coat flung over the fridge or even anywhere else. No half-drunk cup of coffee from three nights ago.
It didn't feel like his life. It felt like someone else's, but in a refreshing way.
"So I've gotten out two mmmaybe three tickets," Millio continued. "Feel free to ask some more people. Maybe that one girl you're after. Or the bull if you need backup in case the ladies swarm you like always."
Nox groaned into the pillow. "I'm not after anyone. Thanks for the info. talk to you LATER. Now let me have my beauty sleep…"
He hung up before Millio could throw in another wink through the airwaves.
His head fell back against the mattress, a dramatic sigh muffling into his pillow like the last line of a tragic play.
Then, Nebular's voice sliced through the quiet, smug as ever.
"Good morning, sleeping beauty. Need a coffee?"
From the kitchen nook came a familiar sputter, the half-dead coffee machine coughing itself back to life.
Nox leaned up, glancing at the kitchen. "Did you just—"
"Exactly," Nebular added. "And Adobe cleaned your dishes. So, no Clowny Monday Mug for you."
Nox blinked toward the counter, genuinely surprised.
"Whoa. Thanks, Neb."
He stretched again, cracking something in his shoulder, and rubbed the back of his neck.
"And I gave him away to Millio. Uugh. I swear, if he bends one wire the wrong way on him, I'll—"
"You'll what?" Nebular teased. "Storm into his cottage in your pajamas and demand a refund in dishwashing schedules?"
Nox narrowed one eye.
"Don't tempt me."
He rolled off the bed and shuffled toward the kitchen, letting the city noise roll in behind him. Somewhere below, someone was yelling about churros. On the other hand, above him, a drone clattered past dragging a banner for laundry delivery.
The coffee machine hissed and popped.
"Already ahead of you. Warning: slight chance of oil flavor from the machine's... unique personality."
Nox took the mug from the counter, raised it like a salute, and sipped.
"Hmm. You're learning."
"Of course I am," Nebular said, smug. "I'm an adaptive AI with a preference for sarcasm and subpar living conditions."
Nox chuckled, tail flicking behind him as he padded back toward his desk.
"Got an update overnight, or is that just your morning personality pack?"
Nebular flickered playfully.
"Let's call it… personality patch 2.3. Core feature: matching the energy of a snarky fox who talks in his sleep."
Nox blinked.
"I do not."
"You do. Something about 'no party is a banger without me.' Again."
"Ah, my mistake," Nebular replied, her tone rich with mock seriousness. "Shall I start logging your late-night declarations for future citation?"
Nox took a long sip from the chipped mug, eyes half-lidded as the warmth spread through him.
"Only the good ones. And bold it when I'm right."
He placed the mug down and started getting dressed. Jeans first. He hopped on one leg, mumbling to himself as the other foot got stuck halfway through.
"Why is it always the left leg? Every time..."
Nebular flickered lazily.
"Statistically, user error remains the leading cause of fashion-related incidents in Coreline."
"Yeah, yeah. User error, my tail. Why am I even awake? This is the only day you can sleep without trains above your head or neighbors below yelling for more alcohol, hm but I guess churros aren't any better."
Nox tugged the shirt down over his head. It got stuck halfway, one ear refusing to slip through, muffling his words. "Ugh... and here I Mmmhm... blaming Millio acting like an espresso shot... Mhmhm... with legs again."
Nebular's voice echoed dryly from the bed, her glow flickering faintly with amusement.
"Would you like assistance, or should I just let natural selection do its thing?"
Nox finally yanked the shirt past his ears, fur sticking out in every direction as he squinted toward her.
"Don't sass me before coffee, Neb."
"Currently, I sass you mid-coffee," Nebular said proudly.
Nox grabbed his mug, sipping from it again, savoring the bitter warmth.
"So," she said with a glint in her voice. "What's the plan for today?"
He yawned, one paw gripping the desk.
"Maybe a test run with the mask," he murmured.
Nebular paused. Then flickered yellow. Then cyan.
"Well, while we're at it… something came in last night."
Nox looked up, curious.
"A ping. Small. Encrypted. Not quite Syndicate... but close. Matched the mask's ID tag. But something was off."
He lowered the mug.
"…Off how?"
"It wasn't sent to the mask," she said quietly. "It was sent to you."
Nox's tail stiffened.
"Me?"
"Yeah. Not exactly ideal. But it was routed around the Syndicate. Hidden. A lot of packet loss. But the core survived."
Her voice shifted slightly as she recited the words.
"New mask owner. Message me back. Syndicate equals trouble. Protocol Overtake PTC is getting out of hand. Use Phoenix."
Nox leaned in, fur bristling.
"Phoenix? Protocol PTC? What does that even mean?"
Nebular's light flashed red.
Her voice dropped flat in a robotic and emotionless manner.
"Protocol Overtake PTC requires a specific encryption passphrase."
The room's lights flickered.
A pulse ran through Nebular's mask, red like blood veins.
Then silence.
"…Neb?" Nox leaned closer.