Dex's grip tightened around Spectre's waist, pulling her close before she could protest. For a split second, her usual icy composure cracked—her cheeks flushed pink, her lips parted in surprise.
First time he'd ever seen her blush.
"Hold on," he said, voice low behind the mask.
Then he activated Phantom Step.
Or at least, he tried to.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
[ERROR: PHANTOM STEP RANK INSUFFICIENT]
"Cannot transport additional targets. Skill level too low."
Silence.
Dex froze. Spectre blinked.
One second. Two.
Slowly, very slowly, Dex released her.
"So, uh," he coughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "New skill. Kinda like teleportation. But, y'know. Still… beta testing it."
The Origin Mask vibrated with silent laughter.
Spectre stared at him. Then, very deliberately, she straightened her hoodie and said:
"You idiot."
But her ears were still red.
Dex cleared his throat. "Look, we can't talk here. Too many eyes."
Spectre crossed her arms. "Then walk, genius. Your legs still work, right?"
A nearby trash can rattled.
They both turned.
A cyber-rat the size of a dog scampered out, its glowing red eyes locking onto them before it darted away.
Spectre sighed. "...Fine. My hideout's close. But you're explaining everything."
Dex nodded. "Deal."
As they moved through the junkyard, Spectre kept glancing at him—at the mask, the hair, the way his new jacket caught the neon light.
"You look different," she muttered.
Dex smirked. "Better or worse?"
She kicked a soda can at him. "Shut up."
Dex watched Spectre's fingers dance in the air, typing invisible commands only she could see. The faint glow of her cybernetic interface reflected in her sharp eyes—focused, calculating.
"What're you doing?" he asked, though he already had an idea.
"Texting Pink Wolf," she answered without looking at him. "Told her to meet us at the hideout."
He nodded, silent.
Then, for the first time since they'd met, he used Omnisight on her.
The world sharpened. Data streamed across his vision, peeling back the layers of Spectre's anonymity like unwrapping a long-kept secret.
[SPECTRE – LEVEL 56]
[CLASS: GHOSTWIRE HACKER]
[SKILLS:]
「SYSTEM SCAN」 – *Reveals levels/skills of weaker players (Max: 20+ levels below her).*
「BLACKOUT PROTOCOL」 – *Disables mechanical weapons/cybernetics for 30s.*
「NEURAL JAMMER」 – Overloads enemy HUDs, causing disorientation (Lasts 15s).
「GHOSTWALK」 – Temporary invisibility to surveillance systems (5min cooldown).
Dex exhaled.
He remembered the first time he saw her—a shadow in a neon-lit alley, stepping between him and Valentina's hunters like some untouchable phantom. Back then, she'd been mystery incarnate, a force he couldn't comprehend.
Now?
She was still deadly. Still brilliant. But no longer unknowable.
The realization sat heavy in his chest.
"You're staring," Spectre said flatly, finally glancing at him.
Dex blinked. "Just… thinking."
She narrowed her eyes. "With Omnisight?"
A beat. Then—
"You asshole."
Dex held up his hands. "In my defense, you did hide your level."
Spectre's glare could've melted steel. "And you peeked."
The Origin Mask chose that moment to murmur:
"Wow. Rude."
Dex groaned. "Not helping."
Spectre's fingers twitched like she was debating throttling him. Instead, she spun on her heel and stalked ahead.
"Hideout. Now."
Dex followed, rubbing the back of his neck.
This was gonna be a long night.
Dex followed Spectre through the bustling ramen shop, the rich scent of broth and fried garlic thick in the air. Behind the counter, the elderly NPC chef—a stout man with a permanent smile and flour-dusted apron—nodded at Spectre like an old friend.
"Back so soon?" the chef chuckled, not pausing as he sliced scallions with practiced ease.
Spectre flashed him a rare, genuine smile. "Just borrowing the room again."
The chef waved them through. "Go on, then. Don't mind me."
Dex stared as Spectre pushed past the "STAFF ONLY" sign and unlocked a door at the back.
Inside was a small, lived-in bedroom—neat but cluttered with tech. Gadgets and wires hung from pegboards on the walls, a large chest sat in the corner (probably full of loot), and a queen-sized bed dominated the space, its sheets rumpled but clean.
Spectre flopped onto the bed, crossing her arms as she leveled Dex with a look.
"Go on. Ask."
Dex hesitated. "...Max favorability with the NPC?"
She nodded.
He remembered the fine print in Dreamscape's NPC interaction logs:
Max Favorability unlocked romantic options—dating, physical intimacy, even shared living spaces.
Most players used it to claim NPC-owned properties as safe houses, since the system penalized hostile actions in "private residences."
Clever.
Spectre smirked at his silence. "What? Thought I was dating him?"
Dex coughed. "I mean, it's an option—"
"It's a business arrangement," she cut in, rolling her eyes. "I helped him rebuild his shop after a guild raid. Now he lets me crash here. No weird stuff."
The Origin Mask muttered: "Boring."
Dex ignored it.
Spectre leaned forward, her glowing eyes narrowing. "Now. Start talking. What happened to you?"
Dex opened his mouth to answer Spectre—
—when the door slammed open.
Pink Wolf stood in the doorway, her new cybernetic arms glinting under the dim neon lights. The left one was sleek black with pink circuitry veins, the right a mirrored design—both humming faintly as her retractable vibro-claws flexed in irritation.
She stared at Dex, her gold cybernetic eye narrowing, then widening.
"The hell happened to you?"
Dex grinned. "Good to see you too, Wolf."
She rolled her eyes and stomped inside, flopping onto a beanbag with a huff. Then, after a beat, she glanced back at him—really looked at him—and froze.
The Origin Mask was gone now, tucked back into his inventory. Without it, the changes were even more obvious: the sharpened jawline, the silver hair that now fell past his shoulders, the faint glow of Cyber Lord energy in his irises.
Pink Wolf's cheeks flushed pink. She quickly looked away, muttering, "I mean—yeah. You too. But seriously."
Spectre crossed her arms. "That's what I was asking."
Dex sighed. "Long story. But first—" He nodded at Pink Wolf's arms. "You ripped them both off?"
She shrugged, tapping her left wrist. A hidden compartment slid open, revealing a tiny holographic wolf emblem. "Had to. Valentina's spyware was buried deep. Couldn't risk it." Her voice dropped. "Still hurts like a bitch, though."
Spectre's fingers twitched like she wanted to strangle someone. "She's gonna pay for that."
Dex's expression darkened. "Yeah. She is."
A heavy silence settled over the room.
Then Pink Wolf smirked, kicking her boots up on the bed. "So. You gonna tell us why you look like some anime protagonist now, or what?"
Dex rubbed his temples.
This was gonna take a while.