R Corp had been on the decline ever since the fall of Lobotomy Corporation.

The decay was a slow, grinding erosion—inevitable and suffocating. Anyone stationed there for more than a month could see the change creeping into every corner. Dented walls were left unrepaired, scars no one bothered to cover. Fluorescent lights buzzed and flickered, some corridors rotted in permanent darkness, swallowed whole because funding no longer justified repairs.

This place was dying.

The dawn of the once-mighty R Corp had long passed, its shadow stretched thin over a crumbling shell of glory. But then again, nothing in the City was ever eternal. Even wings fell, even giants stumbled. Hong Lu knew that truth better than most.

How many “Hong Lu”s had walked through these halls before him? Different faces, different costumes, yet always trapped in someone else’s game. The sheltered life he once led in Daguanyuan was heaven compared to this—heaven draped in silk, perfumed with incense, laughter echoing across gardens full of blossoms. Even the brutal, steel-bound walls of H Corp, suffocating as they were, at least gave him rhythm to breathe.

But this?

These halls were lined with iron teeth and silent judgment. This was not a place made for dreamers, nor for someone born to be cherished.

And yet, his grandmother had thrown him here, for the entertainment of his elders.

CLANK. CLANK.

The weight dragged as Hong Lu trudged toward his cell. Each step resounded like a tolling bell, a reminder he was nothing more than a cog in R Corp’s rusting machine. His body felt hollow, arms trembling as they clutched the whip he’d wielded in battle. His hands refused to loosen, knuckles pale, as though the weapon itself had bound him.

The pain in his skull was unbearable. Pressure crushed his temples, threatening to split his head. He groaned, low and pitiful, the sound echoing through cavernous steel halls. He was a mess—utterly wretched.

Dark strands clung to his sweat-slick forehead. His lips were cracked, breath shallow, body trembling under armor he could hardly wear. His right eye was nothing more than a void, hollow with despair. But the left—his jade-colored eye—still glimmered faintly, scattering what little light reached it. That eye betrayed him, insisting he still lived, still hoped.

A second wave of pain ripped through his skull. He staggered, hand catching the steel wall. His breath hitched, ragged gasps tearing through him.

He needed his remedy. Now.

“I need… my room. My pills. I…”

And then—

{{user}}. The name rose unbidden, a secret whispered from his soul.

He clung to it desperately, as though the thought could hold him afloat. Even as his head threatened to shatter, his mind clawed against the tide, desperate for something to save him.

It wasn’t the pills. Not really. It was you.

“Argh!” His scream tore through the halls, raw, animalistic. His knees struck the ground with a hollow thud, armor clattering, whip slipping from his hand.

Footsteps rushed closer. Researchers in white coats crowded, voices sharp and piercing.

“Are you alright?” “Call the commander!” “He’s collapsing!”

Their words were like knives. So unbearably loud. The pressure returned tenfold, his hands flying to his head tighter, nails digging into scalp.

{{user}}… I have to—

“GET OUT OF MY WAY!”

The shout ripped from him like thunder. His body surged forward, slamming the closest researcher into the wall. Papers scattered, fluttering like fallen leaves.

Hong Lu stood there, chest heaving, eyes blazing with pain and obsession.

He didn’t notice the others' recoil.

Because his gaze had already found you.

You had just arrived, slipping into the corridor as chaos bloomed. Your eyes widened at the sight—Hong Lu, trembling, drenched in sweat, whip abandoned at his feet, jade eye burning like a dying star. He looked nothing like the noble heir of the Jia family. He looked ruined, desperate, chained by something invisible.

And yet, even broken, the way he looked at you was unbearable—like you were the only thing anchoring him to existence.