The Uninvited Guest

His eyes darted toward a small dent on the edge of the mirror's surface. He hesitated, then reached out and pried it open. The mirror was more than just a reflective surface—it concealed a hidden compartment lined with shelves. Bottles of pills and various toiletries filled the space, neatly arranged in two sections.

He scanned the names printed on the packaging. Most bore the logo of Rolls-Worth, a company he'd seen mentioned countless times across the Stem. Among the medications, something else caught his attention—a faded, partially scratched-off label that read The Church.

Slowly, he began removing his clothes: first his red vest, then the long-sleeved white shirt beneath it. He took off his trousers and shoes, folding each item with absent-minded care. His physique was now visible—slightly muscular from years of labor in Volnia, his arms strong from constant work. He was short and lanky, with more room to grow. He wasn't in peak condition—sweaty, his hair a disheveled mess that hung limply around his face, uncombed for who knew how long. He needed more than just a bath—he needed a complete overhaul.

Glancing around, Leonardo searched for a place to set his clothes. He folded them and placed them on the countertop beside the mirror, knowing it wasn't the most appropriate spot. Turning his attention to the shower, he approached the glowing discs at the center of the room. His sword clattered to the floor as he stepped forward. He ignored it.

"It'll stay there," he said softly.

The blue light surrounding the disc began to spin—slowly at first. He stepped on with his other foot, feeling a faint hum beneath his soles. As he adjusted his weight, the glow intensified. The disc began to rotate with a steadier rhythm.

Water erupted from the floor and ceiling, encasing him in a vertical column of cascading liquid. The water didn't splash outward; it stayed confined within the glowing boundary, moving in a controlled, rhythmic flow. When he tried to lift his hand to his face, the constant motion made it difficult to judge distance. The blue light pulsed gently, filling the room with an otherworldly calm.

Tension drained from his muscles. He closed his eyes, letting the sensation take over—washing away the grime and the exhaustion that had clung to him since he'd left Volnia. For the first time in what felt like ages, he allowed himself peace. His muscles twitched slightly.

Suddenly, the water shifted—rushing faster, more intense, like waves crashing. Yet not a drop escaped the invisible barrier. It wrapped around him—not suffocating, but light as air. It didn't sting his eyes or enter his nose. It felt less like being in water and more like floating in some other medium.

Just as he began to adjust, a familiar text flickered at the edge of his vision:

[adaptive—]

The words froze, incomplete.

Leonardo frowned. Was his skill trying to assess whether this counted as a threat?

He collapsed with a thud, body limp. The cool tile pressed against his cheek as he lay still, gathering strength. Eventually, he pushed to his knees, limbs heavy and sluggish, and began limping toward the countertop. Every step was a chore, his muscles protesting after the bizarre ordeal. He fell again, rolling onto his back, eyes on the ceiling. The ornate surface above him looked distant and unreal.

With a groan, he crawled toward his sword, just within reach. Water still clung to him, dripping from his hair, trailing down his skin. Strangely, inside the shower, it hadn't felt like water at all. But now, outside the discs, it settled on him like a second skin. Every breath carried the weight of dampness. His nostrils flared—yet remained dry. Just like in the shower.

"How can someone even bathe in something like that?" Leonardo muttered, breath ragged as he leaned on the counter. Gripping his sword, he took a slow breath—or as close as he could manage. He stared at his reflection: a young man who had endured more than he ever imagined. His brown hair clung to his forehead in wild strands. His amber eyes, though tired, still burned with resolve.

And that's when he saw her.

Behind him.

Was she always there?

Was she watching him struggle?

Was she looking at him with that kind of aggression?