Sword Art Online: Moonlight Swordman.

The flood of memories dragged Ren back into reality.

He gasped awake, as if rising from a slumber that had lasted centuries.

His blue eyes dilated, catching the dim glow from the crystal lanterns. His chest heaved...inhale, exhale, as if realizing for the first time that he was still alive.

Ren looked around in a daze.

Still the same room.

Still those cold walls stained with the passage of time.

And still the countless gold coins… scattered across the dull gray stone floor as if in peaceful slumber.

They lay there, unmoving, silent, waiting for someone to pick them up.

As if… nothing had happened.

Or rather, as if everything that just happened never belonged to this world at all.

"…What the hell just happened…"

Ren groaned, sitting up like someone thrown violently back into their own body after an endless fall.

Every movement came with a faint internal crunch. He could feel every joint colliding, like a body left unused for centuries. A dull pain crept down his spine, sending a shiver through him.

He sat there, hand pressed against the cold stone floor.

Dazed. Disoriented.

It felt like something important had just slipped from his memory, vanishing like sand through the cracks of his fingers.

Everything he had just seen…

It was insane.

"Was that a dream…?" Ren whispered, still staring blankly at the empty air before him, where the shimmering light from the gold coins sparkled like memories refusing to fade.

Finally, when his worn-out body regained a bit of energy, Ren slowly stood up.

He staggered a few steps, then stopped in the middle of the treasure room, now quiet as an abandoned tomb.

He glanced around. No strange lights, no roars, no echoes of visions, just a cold, empty room… with a few scattered coins that now seemed to mock him.

"…What a scam," Ren muttered, dropping into a crouch. "I could've sworn I saw full treasure chests, relics that looked like mythical artifacts…"

He began picking up the coins. They were cold, they had weight, and, most importantly, they held real value.

[You have received 2,544 Cor]

[You have received 5,938 Cor]

[You have received…]

[Current Cor: 74,670]

Ren's eyes widened. Over seventy thousand Cor.

An absurd number, far beyond anything he ever imagined, even during his days with the frontliners.

It felt like every ache, every moment of mental strain, every ounce of exhaustion...had vanished in a heartbeat.

But then Ren looked down at the sword at his hip. The blade was snapped, the hilt cracked, its effects dulled… and it was fading away.

He sighed.

"Too bad… there's no gear."

His sword had broken during the fight. And of course, Ren hadn't repaired it since the boss battle on the first floor.

Who could've known… it would break here?

Ren walked toward the door of the treasure room, each step echoing softly like the fading notes of a forgotten song.

He reached out and touched the cool, dust-covered metal, a door that seemed less like a vault and more like the guardian of dead secrets.

Before leaving, Ren turned back.

His eyes swept the room one final time. The gold coins, the walls, the empty space that once seemed to hold oaths, betrayal, and a final act of forgiveness.

"…I'll be okay."

Ren spoke softly, his voice low and calm, as if the words weren't meant for anyone but himself.

"Maybe… I should learn to be kind to myself… before trying to do the same for others."

He paused in silence.

"See you around, Copper."

He murmured.

Copper was dead. But then again, who wasn't?

It was only ever a matter of when.

Ren turned away, and the door opened, without a sound.

A soft white light poured in, gentle and patient, like the hand of someone bidding him farewell.

Ren stepped out of the treasure room, without looking back.

He moved along the old route, each footstep careful, every corner approached with precision. His stealth skill stayed active, avoiding all unnecessary confrontations.

Thanks to that, Ren once again found himself beneath the drainage outlet of the Town of Beginnings, the very same path that once led them downward, and now, led only him upward.

He climbed the old stone staircase. The damp, moss-covered steps beneath his feet. But this time, the air didn't feel suffocating.

When his hand touched the rim of the outlet, Ren took a deep breath.

Fresh air rushed into his lungs, slicing through every lingering wound within.

Once again… he had survived.

Once again, he left, just as the sky began to brighten.

But this time, something had changed.

No more fear. No more hesitation.

Only… quiet. And something that felt both like loss, and peace.

Ren gently pulled down his hood.

The morning light softly lit his face. The early breeze swept through his messy hair, tossing strands still damp with sweat and dust.

He closed his eyes… and exhaled.

But then...

A wave of exhaustion hit, like a cold mist clinging to his limbs.

Ren staggered. Each step heavier than the last. How many days had it been since he last ate a proper meal?

His body trembled. His stomach clenched in pain.

Ren took slow, careful steps, turning into a moss-covered alley where the morning light could only reach in faint, filtered rays.

At the end of the alley… another world opened up.

Before him was the central plaza of the Town of Beginnings, bustling, crowded, and lively, as if nothing had ever changed.

Players streamed out from inns and shops, gathering in small groups to prepare for departure, some heading out to hunt monsters, others taking on quests.

Laughter and cheerful voices rang through the air, lively, excited, full of energy.

Everyone had a goal. Everyone had comrades.

Eyes filled with determination under the morning light, bright smiles, shouts exchanged between friends weaving through the crowd, it all painted a vivid picture of a new beginning.

A stark contrast to Ren's tired eyes, returning from a place of darkness no one else even knew existed.

…But was that really the case?

Ren didn't know. And he didn't want to know anymore.

What mattered now, more than anything, was to have a proper, satisfying meal with the money he'd just earned.

Even just thinking about food gave Ren the strength to keep walking.

He gently rubbed his stomach, murmuring to himself like a self-soothing spell, "...I think I could eat a whole cow."

Without another second of hesitation, Ren rushed toward a nearby restaurant, one that was famous among players for its expensive menu, yet praised as "culinary art on the First Floor of Aincrad."

He'd heard stories. A single meal here could cost over 5,000 Cor, depending on the dish.

To someone like Ren, that number had once been… unthinkable.

He'd never dared to step inside, much less sit down and order something.

But today was different.

Today, he was a "rich man."

Or at least… that's what he thought.

He'd heard that top-level frontliners often spent tens of thousands of Cor upgrading gear or buying rare items.

Even then, they rarely went over 100,000.

And Ren… had 74,670 Cor. A number that made him feel like he'd just won the lottery.

With a bit more effort… he could probably afford a house in this town.

Enough to eat lavishly three meals a day, sleep in a private room for a whole month, maybe even repair his sword, change armor, and buy a few recovery items.

So if he wasn't going to splurge today… then when?

Carrying that sense of eager anticipation, Ren strode along the old cobblestone street leading to the restaurant. His stomach growled with strange noises, his heart beat lightly in his chest, and his mind was filled with thoughts of juicy grilled meat and steaming vegetable stew.

But then… he started feeling something off.

A few glances.

Then more.

Some turned their heads. Some whispered to each other. A few stared with barely concealed curiosity.

Ren slowed, furrowing his brow. A strange unease crept into his skin like a backward gust of cold wind.

Then he remembered.

The hood…

He had taken it off.

His face was now exposed clearly under the morning sun, nothing to hide it, no more reason to stay concealed.

In the past, people would overlook him, a ghost among the bustling crowd.

But now…

Ren no longer wanted to hide… he wasn't going to put that hood back on again… not ever…

It was a bit uncomfortable at first, but maybe… he'd get used to it.

He sighed, shrugged as if to shake off the tightness in his chest, then glanced at a group of players looking his way.

Among them were a few female players. One of them nudged her friend and smiled with pursed lips.

Ren shot a slight glare, brows furrowing.

'What? Do I have something on my face…?'

Then, without thinking, Ren asked himself: Am I handsome?

The answer: No.

At least, not by normal standards.

He didn't have Copper's flirtatious charm or smooth tongue, nor Klein's tall build and rugged wandering samurai look.

He definitely didn't have Kirito's mysterious aura, that quiet, brooding presence that always hinted at hidden secrets.

Ren was… just Ren.

Not flashy. Not heroic. Not someone who needed a stage.

Just a quiet survivor. A shadow who could wield a sword.

…With a face like a porcelain doll. Eyes the color of winter skies.

Wolf-cut messy hair that couldn't hide his pale, marble-like skin, which caught the morning light in a way that made people turn to look.

But Ren didn't see himself that way.

And yet…

Sometimes, he'd hear people murmur things like:

"He's kind of cute, huh?"

…Huh?

What the hell was cute?

The one who charged into the boss fight on the first floor, The one who defeated a monster in a dungeon no one dared to enter, The one who survived the scythe of death, The one who just returned from a nameless nightmare…

Cute?

To him, "cute" was just… nonsense.

Ren scowled, a giant question mark flashing in his mind.

"Are these people sick or something…?"