FLAW

Morrin still showed no sign of fear—only that confident smile.

"Alright, alright... One of the deleted files just came back online… in Layer One."

---

Iris narrowed her eyes.

"Deleted files just came back online?"

Morrin leaned back lazily in her seat, not caring if she was nearly exposed.

"To be specific, it's not a file. Not a person either... More like a phenomenon—alive and kicking."

Iris lowered her scythe slightly. She was definitely interested, but still cautious.

"Elaborate."

Morrin continued,

"You see, back then—way before this system, before the hierarchy of layers even existed... In other words, where this new world originates."

Iris didn't lower her guard, but she knew what Morrin was referring to.

"3,018 years ago?"

Morrin winked.

"Yep. That's where it belongs. So let me connect some dots for you: the awakening signal you probably heard from the authorities of layer one, the deleted files, and my escape from ARKHEX-0001 few days ago."

Iris's expression didn't change.

"You predicted that?"

"No, I didn't~"

"Then?"

Morrin picked up a small cube and tossed it onto the table. It lit up, generating a holographic screen.

"I have the entire world map in my pocket... but a better one than they have in Layer One." Her tone was sweet, yet mocking.

Iris wasn't fazed by the insult.

"So how exactly does that explain how you know all this?"

Morrin pulled a chip from her bosom pocket.

"Because I found something interesting there."

Iris paused, giving her a moment to elaborate.

"You know me—curious, inno—"

Iris cut her off.

"You're anything but anything."

Morrin chuckled.

"Jeez, come on. You're still salty about what I did with your only boyfriend?"

Iris didn't respond, but anyone could tell she was pissed. Morrin knew she was pressing buttons—but didn't back down.

"Come on, give me a break. You can't blame the poor guy, right? Men are like dogs. You should've thanked me for getting you away from him—"

Iris's scythe moved like lightning. She sliced through the everything right behind of Morrin. Thankfully, Morrin didn't get a scratch.

"SPEAK—OR BLEED, CHOICE IS YOUR."

Morrin still had no fear in her eyes, but her tone shifted a little more serious.

"Alright, alright. So as I was checking the world map from Layer Zero, looking for spicy information, something caught my eye."

She placed the chip over the cube. The cube's sides split open, revealing a glowing sphere inside with strange red patterns pulsing from its core.

Iris gave a puzzled look.

"...Red signal?"

"That's right," Morrin said. "Something was crawling up from the depths. It was dying, then coming back to life. Dying again, then again..."

Iris was at a loss for words.

"That's... how can someone do this?"

Morrin nodded and leaned back.

"Well... no one did, actually."

That only confused Iris more.

"What do you mean no one did it? How could a living being be buried deep beneath the sub-layers of that hell!?"

"It was a mistake."

"A mistake?"

"He was just a bystander. Got caught in the act. He didn't choose—no one did. But once it happened... someone chose him. And for some reason, he didn't stop. He kept climbing. Even death couldn't stop him."

Iris felt conflicted, one possibility creeping into her thoughts.

"Don't tell me..."

"Yes. He's the first to achieve immortality. Not by divine blessings. Not by experiments. But by suffering, agony... and a bottomless will."

Iris processed the information in silence. Even if her expression didn't show it, her mind was racing.

"But [Project Immortalis] was shut down before that war. Then how?"

Morrin crossed her arms.

"Eh, how would I know? No one really remembers what happened in that war. The project was a failure, so it was erased. Classic human cover-up."

Iris sighed, trying to connect all the dots.

"Then how do you know about that file?"

"I'm a hacker, duh. Of course my curious brain can't get enough of forbidden data~"

Iris groaned again. Her patience was wearing thin.

"Then why are you here? To capture whoever it is? Because I know damn well you didn't call me here just to explain your plans—or use me in some cat-and-mouse game."

Morrin let out a chuckle, not denying anything.

"Well, that would be fun... but you know as well as I do: anything built on lies crumbles eventually."

Iris stayed silent. Morrin took that as a cue to continue.

"If this person is immortal, they could climb to the artificial heaven—Layer Ten. If they're looking for answers... they might try to tear down the lie built on destruction."

She stood tall—half-naked, unapologetically bold. Her body was a living canvas of temptation and power. A dark succubus tattoo curled across her lower stomach, wings splayed over her hips. Beneath it, a glowing neon design stretched from her navel to her thighs, pulsing softly like living circuitry.

"And that's why... we need a demon from the same artificial hell they created."

Iris lowered her scythe to the ground.

"So... you want an assistant?"

"Yep... a really strong one~"

The silence after was electric.

Then—

BOOM.

The wall to their left exploded inward. Smoke, debris, shouts.

Some cloaked intruders stormed into the Coil, weapons raised, shadows darting behind them.

Iris turned immediately—scythe drawn.

"layer three, assassination association" she muttered.

"Guess they didn't like us remembering the past."

The chaos was instant.

Sparks exploded as the attacker clashed against Iris's scythe—again, again, again.

Iris moved like mercury, her weapon spinning with a whisper. Every cut she made—precise. Unforgiving.

Morrin leaned back lazily on the velvet couch, one leg draped over the other, watching like she was front-row at a ballet.

The lighting in the booth flickered from red to neon-purple—accentuating every detail of her form. The glow traced the outlines of her skin-tight body wrap, clinging more like liquid latex than cloth. The succubus tattoo below her navel pulsed with reactive light, syncing to the chaos around her, while the larger neon ink flowed like molten circuit-ink down her hips and thighs.

She didn't flinch when blood sprayed.

She smiled.

Another attacker lunged through the broken wall, dual blades raised.

Too slow.

Iris spun mid-air and severed the man's head clean off—no hesitation. The scythe carved through reinforced body armor like silk. A fountain of red sprayed the ceiling.

Another one ducked low, trying to flank. Bad move.

Iris dragged the tip of her scythe in a reverse arc, slicing his legs at the knees. Before he even screamed, she shoved the pole into his jaw—crack—and tossed him aside like garbage.

Four more came in.

They didn't even get names.

One by one, they died.

Metal shrieked. Flesh split. The floor was slick with warm blood. Iris, untouched, stood amidst the storm—expression unreadable. Her white combat suit was stained at the edges, but her scythe gleamed.

She left one alive.

Barely.

The last man had fumbled his exit, stumbling backward—only to be kicked directly into Morrin's booth. His body slammed onto the couch, landing directly between her parted legs. His helmet cracked on impact. His hands scraped the cushion for support.

He looked up—bloodied, terrified.

And saw her.

Morrin looked down at him with half-lidded eyes, her thighs spread slightly apart, her body still gleaming under the neon lights.

"...Mmm," she purred, brushing her fingers through her hair. "So you're the lucky one?"

"I—I didn't mean—I'm just a merc, I wasn't told—" he stammered, his voice cracked and drenched in fear.

Iris stepped forward.

Morrin raised a finger.

"Wait..."

Iris paused, narrowing her eyes. "...Morrin."

"Let me have this one," Morrin said softly. "I promise I won't kill him... at least not until he talks."

The merc's eyes darted between them. He trembled when Morrin leaned forward, pressing a knee beside his waist. The tattoo on her stomach shimmered faintly as her toned hips straddled him lightly—not weight, just presence.

"You like secrets?" she whispered, her lips brushing his cheek.

"I—" he gasped, unsure where to look, "I don't know anything real! I was just told to arrest you—"

She smiled slowly. "No name?"

"N-None," he stammered. "The contract was just to capture you and file zero. AI-fed instructions. Just 'locate and return.'"

Her fingers traced the edge of his helmet before gently pulling it off, letting his face breathe. His cheeks flushed red as her warmth pressed just a little closer—like fire brushing against frozen skin.

Morrin leaned down, lips grazing his ear.

"Do you know what I am, little assassin?"

He whimpered, his hands stuck between panic and desire.

"I—I think you're...you're…"

She grinned.

"A memory thief."

And with a sudden flash of her pupils—deep violet swirls—she activated her Neuro-Induction Tattoo, hidden beneath the succubus mark. A hypnotic surge of electromagnetic waves swept into his cortex, exploiting his arousal and fear as anchors.

His body stiffened.

She moaned—soft, faked, perfect.

His eyes rolled.

And his thoughts spilled.

Everything.

Keyphrases. Coordinates. The drop-point. Who paid the bounty. What they called the anomaly—"Subject Zero" The contract had mentioned:

>"Do not observe. Do not preserve. Delete on sight. Lest the error spreads."

Morrin smirked.

"Good boy," she whispered, and kissed his forehead.

Then—snap.

His neck broke in a soft crunch beneath her fingers.

She stood, licking a bit of blood from her lower lip. "You learn the most from the dumb ones."

Iris folded her arms, unimpressed. "That was excessive."

Morrin turned, bare feet stepping onto the soaked metal floor.

"Darling, if I don't turn seduction into survival, what am I even good for?"

Iris tapped her scythe once on the floor.

"What's worse," she muttered, "is I think this time… you're right."

Morrin raised a brow. "Oh? That rare, huh?"

Iris didn't respond. Her eyes were fixed on the flickering tablet Morrin left behind.

---

Meanwhile, at Sumei's home...

She had given up trying to wake the unconscious man. She tried food, noise—even slapping him. Nothing worked.

"Ahhh—what the hell is wrong with this grandpa!?"

She kicked his leg—only to hurt her own foot.

"Ouch, ouch—"

"Ugh..."

Suddenly, a screen popped up in front of her, showing two men outside her door—probably in their 30s.

Sumei sighed.

"Great. More problems..."

She turned and walked toward the gate. It slid open—and the two men walked in without a care.

"Hey, your mother didn't return the points I lent her," one of them said.

Sumei was nervous, but tried to act tough, arms crossed.

"So what? She's not here. You think it's easy to earn Influence Points cleaning graves, huh?"

The second man, bald with a scar near his eye, looked pissed.

"Hey, brat. Got no manners?"

The first—long-haired—scoffed.

"Eh, don't bother. No man in this house to discipline her. Just like her mother."

Sumei's anger flared.

"What did you say—"

One of them grabbed her collar. Her body froze as painful memories surged back, leaving her weak and trembling.

The man chuckled, ignoring her fear.

"Heh, look at this b*tch. She's already about to cry~"

The bald one laughed even louder.

"Haha! What a brat. Bet all she can do is scream for help~"

They exchanged malicious glances—an idea forming.

The long-haired man grabbed her face.

"So tell me, b*tch... you know what happens to your body if something happens to you?"

In Sumei's bedroom, the unconscious man stirred.

Not anymore.

He was awake—and clearly not the same man who had been lying still all this time.

Back at the front door, the long-haired man leaned closer.

"If that happens, you'll be useless to society. Such a cruel world and its system, isn't it~"

Sumei was too scared to scream. Her legs shook. Her mouth was covered by the man's hand.

The bald man leaned in, yanking her hair.

"Gotta admit, this little b*tch is kinda cute... sexy too, huh?"

Suddenly, he felt something cold on his bald head—a hand.

Before he could react, that hand tightened.

He twitched. Screamed in pain.

The long-haired man turned.

"H-Hey! Who the hell are y—"

Sumei collapsed backward—eyes teary, legs shaking....with little bit of strength she manage let out a weak call.

"G-grandpa..."

Before he could finish, his friend's head was slammed into the ground with a crack.

Standing there was the man they thought unconscious—now wide awake.

And he is not happy.

---