"...Where am I?" Mako sat alone on an old pyground swing, his feet brushing against the dusty ground as he zily dangled his legs. Warm summer light filtered through the trees, casting golden beams as children ughed and pyed. He could hear them running across the jungle gym nearby, their chatter drifting with the wind that passed his face.

  Yet, despite the lively surroundings, Mako remained calm. But given the strange circumstances he found himself in, he might've been too calm.

  "How did I get here?" he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. The words faded into the air as if the world around him didn't care to expin. His thoughts were a foggy mess, like a jigsaw puzzle scattered on the floor.

  "How did I get here?" he repeated. He strained his brain to put the pieces together. And then, brief fshes began to appear—chaos, shouting, several red blurs, and then…

  THWACK!

  The sting of a dodgeball smacking him dead in the face.

  "...Ah, right." He let out an exasperated sigh as the memory slotted back into pce, though it did little to crify his current predicament.

  "Is this what they call lucid dreaming?" he mused aloud, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. He'd heard of it before—being aware you're inside a dream while it's happening. The most logical conclusion was that the dodgeball knocked him out cold, and now he was stuck here in dreamnd until he woke up.

  "Well… what am I supposed to do until then?" He gnced around the pyground with a mix of curiosity and boredom.

  The question nagged at him, but then an idea struck him like lightning. "Wait. What if I open my Role Menu right now?"

  Buddy had advised him earlier, but what would happen if he tried to access it while unconscious?

  "Would it show up in the real world?" he muttered, brow furrowing. "Or would it appear here, in the dream?"

  Roles were an aspect of his mind, and he was stuck in his head as far as he knew. Yet they also had some form of visibility in the real world, though the mechanisms for how were never made clear. They just work.

  And, more importantly, would anyone else see it?

  Mako wasn't entirely confident he could keep the Role Menu hidden while his body was unconscious but now seemed like the perfect opportunity to experiment. As far as he could guess, his body was probably lying in the Nurse's office, and unless something crazy had happened, the only person there would be…

  "... Her." He rubbed his temples and let out another sigh. "That woman was a bit of a quack, but she's pretty chill… most of the time."

  "Well, worst-case scenario, she's probably decent at keeping secrets," he reasoned. With a sigh, Mako steeled himself. "All right. Let's try this out."

  Focusing intently, Mako took a deep breath. In his mind's eye, the text for his Role, Harem Protagonist, flickered into view. He squinted as he concentrated further, and to his surprise, a dropdown list appeared, dispying what he assumed were his Role's skills.

  Role: Harem Protagonist

  You are a gift sent by the Ones Above, to love and be loved—a hero in the name of love with an all-embracing heart.

  Sub-Skills:

  Mating Pheromones (Passive): Unconsciously release a pleasant aroma that can attract Mates.Red Strings of Fate (Passive): Destiny isn't set in stone, but the Strings of Fate can guide your way to ideal partners that you can pursue.Dynamic Luck (Passive): Your luck teeters between good and bad and will flip on its head depending on the situation at hand.Unmatched Lover (Passive): Your skills in bed are one of a kind; nobody can resist you in the sheets.Power of Love (Active?): ?????Mako's eyes lingered on the list as he rubbed his head, he needed a moment to process that this Role was his new reality. The weight of his Role, absurd as it was, wasn't something that he could just welcome with open arms. Acceptance of his new Role would take time.

  Shaking off the lingering disbelief, Mako turned his focus to the sub-skills his Role offered. The first one that caught his eye was:

  Mating Pheromones

  "... Fuck, I still can't take this seriously." Mako grabbed his head and groaned.

  Reading the skill description, he had a pretty good idea of what this ability was, but did that mean he smelled weird or something?

  Pulling his shirt to his nose, he frowned when he couldn't detect anything strange.

  "I don't smell any different…" he muttered, rubbing at his nose. Then again, he had rubbed raw fish on his face earlier. Combined with the fact that he was still stuck in the dream world, maybe his senses were just dull here. Probably not the best time to check out his skills.

  Letting out a sigh, he figured he'd have to confirm his abilities ter. For now, better to keep reading. The next skill on the list was:

  Red Strings of Fate

  The skill's name alone left him scratching his head. "What does that even mean?" he muttered aloud. Trying to jog his memory, he recalled an old myth about soulmates being tied together by invisible red threads on their fingers.

  The description cimed it would help guide him to ideal partners. So was it about finding the one? But he was supposed to be a Harem Protagonist, and that didn't exactly scream monogamy.

  At least, that was the result of some really bad anime he saw. That and those terrible reality shows his mom likes to watch.

  "Wait, does this mean I've got multiple soulmates?" he mused, brows furrowing beneath his bangs. "Or maybe I just don't have to pick one?"

  The more he thought about it, the faster his head spun in pce. If this skill tied him to several people, was it up to him to pursue whichever thread he wanted? Or did it mean they were all tied to him forever?

  "Too many questions, not enough answers," Mako grumbled, scratching his head harder. The whole thing was so abstract, it felt like he was trying to reinvent the wheel the more he tried to think about it. Better to set it aside for now—no point overthinking something he couldn't test yet.

  "Alright, Next," he sighed, flicking his head back to the list.

  Dynamic Luck

  When his gaze fell on Dynamic Luck, Mako's face twisted into a grimace. Of course. If any skill was to bme for his endless string of disasters, it had to be this one.

  "Figures," he groaned, as years of absurd misfortunes cwed their way back to the forefront of his mind.

  Yet the Dodgeball game… was different. Boli didn't turn him into a dent on the gym wall like usual. Instead, he somehow toppled the juggernaut—thanks to a twist of fate. For once, the universe had thrown him a bone… right before Ashita knocked him out cold and sent him spiraling into Dream Central.

  It was as if his fortune ran on a seesaw for him: something good was followed up by something bad. A ruthless flip of fate.

  "The gimmick's gotta be that my luck switches between good and bad," Mako muttered as he pieced things together. "But what triggers it?"

  Mako rubbed his head, as his brain was still scrambled from the ball to the head. Massaging his head, he remembered how Boli was seemingly trying to kill him with that st throw, and how, if he hadn't sprained his ankle then, he probably would've died.

  "Wait… one of the main triggers has to be life-threatening situations." Mako snapped his fingers in a eureka moment.

  That was the answer that made the most sense. It was like a deranged safety net, bailing him out when things got dire. It's only now that he's realized that this luck was an actual force caused by his Role.

  "Come to think of it… I've almost died more times than I could count." He thought back to all the close calls he'd barely walked away from over the years—battered, bruised, but alive.

  Like his birthday at that old Chinese restaurant. Some big-shot Yakuza barged in mid-dinner, fists flying, and wiped the floor with the Triads running a drug operation in the back. His family managed to avoid the crossfire, only for Mako to end up on the receiving end of a hurled corpse.

  His birthday wish that year? Affordable therapy.

  Or the time he fell into the goril exhibit at the zoo. A few scratches and bruises, sure—but the mother goril, poor thing, had bad eyesight and mistook him for a giant, confused baby in need of feeding.

  He learned far more about goril biology than any kid ever should.

  Then, there was the school bus incident in middle school.

  Long story short? He got flung straight out the window, sailed through the air, and nded—miraculously—at a pool party full of swimsuit-cd sorority girls.

  "In hindsight…" Mako sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "The clues about my Role were kinda obvious."

  Taking a moment to process, he let out a long sigh, the weight of realization sinking in. His life wasn't just unlucky—it was downright absurd. He'd been wrong about Dynamic Luck. It wasn't some deranged safety net. No, it was a force of nature—a probability-warping nightmare, flipping his fortune for reasons he can't even comprehend.

  Either that, or he really was cursed, and even his own luck was fbbergasted by him.

  Shivers crawled up his spine. Reluctantly, Mako gnced at the next skill on his list.

  Unmatched Lover

  Mako pulled up his bangs and blinked at the description, then blinked again. Surely, he'd misread it.

  "...Skills in the sheets?" he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "What does that even—"

  The realization hit like a freight train, his face instantly flushing crimson. "You've gotta be kidding me! Seriously?!"

  Rubbing the back of his neck, he averted his gaze as if the Role Menu could judge him. Sure, he wasn't exactly innocent—he'd spent more than enough time in his youth exploring certain… websites. But actual, real-world experience?

  Zero. Zilch. Nada.

  "How in Dimension H, can I be a prodigy at something I've never even…" He let the thought trail off, burying his face in his hands. The absurdity of it all was almost too much to handle. "Yeah, no. Not testing this one. Not now, not ever."

  Somewhere out there, Mako knew, people would kill for a skill like this. Probably half the popution, if he had to guess. But for him? It was just another entry on a growing list of his Role's ridiculous quirks.

  With a frustrated groan, he swiped the screen and moved on to the st one, determined to pretend he hadn't just read that.

  Power of Love.

  The st skill on the list caught Mako's obscured eye. Unlike the others, it was greyed out, and its description repced with a series of question marks.

  Instinctively, he tried pressing it like a button in hopes it would do something. But, in the end, nothing happened. "Locked Huh? Figures."

  He leaned back on the swing, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "From what I remember, Roles with Active Skills sometimes require certain conditions to activate. So maybe Power of Love was one of those."

  It made sense—Roles like Boli's Pitcher only worked when Boli had something to throw.

  Still, Power of Love? The name alone made his mind spin with possibilities.

  From everything he'd seen in games and anime, 'Power of Love' usually meant some kind of special power tied to strong feelings. Mainly between those romantically involved with each other.

  It was probably his best guess for what the skills conditions were, but he was curious about what would happen if other forms of love could count as well.

  His thoughts wandered. There was the love he felt for his parents. The easy camaraderie of his bromance with Buddy. Would those count? Or would the skill's activation require something more specific, more intimate?

  The thought made him sigh. That kind of love felt so far out of reach that it might as well be on another pne of existence.

  "I've never even dated anyone," he mumbled, the admission heavier than he expected. His so-called Dynamic Luck wrecked his chance before things could start with anyone.

  Most of the city thought he was cursed. No sane woman wanted to get close to him, and even if they did, how was he supposed to expin that some cosmic force seemed hell-bent on sabotaging his love life?

  But then his thoughts drifted to Ashita.

  Lunch pns. Just the two of them.

  Would that count as a date?

  His heart skipped a beat at the idea.

  "No way," he muttered, shaking his head. "We've only known each other for, what, not even half a day? She's just being nice. It's not a date."

  But even as he dismissed the thought, a tiny, treacherous part of him held on to the possibility. Maybe—just maybe—he'd finally get a glimpse of what this whole 'Young Love' thing was finally all about.

  Even if Ashita didn't feel the same way, the thought filled him with a flicker of hope he hadn't felt in years.

  Feeling satisfied, Mako closed the Role Window and let his gaze wander to the expanse of the blue sky above.

  "...Still not awake," he muttered to himself, the reminder settling uncomfortably in his chest. He was still trapped in his head, with little to nothing to do now that he looked through his Role Menu.

  The air was calm, unnaturally so, yet the mundanity of it all left him restless. Kicking the ground half-heartedly, he noticed with a hint of curiosity that he was still sitting on the swing. The gentle creak of the chains filled the silence as he swayed back and forth, each rhythmic motion pulling him into a zy, detached trance.

  For ck of anything better to do, Mako let the swing guide him, the repetitive motion soothing in its simplicity. Swinging his legs, he went higher into the air as the wind caught onto his body.

  Then, the scrape of metal broke through the monotony.

  His ears pricked at the sound of someone settling into the swing next to his. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the faint motion of their legs pumping in time with his, their swings moving in tandem like a mirrored duet.

  It took a moment for the realization to click: it was a girl, someone his age—or so it seemed.

  Curiosity tugged at him, and he tried to gnce over, but no matter how he angled his gaze, her face remained elusive. They moved in opposite arcs, their timing perfectly out of sync, keeping her features just beyond his view.

  And yet, something about her felt familiar. The kind of familiarity that gnawed at the edges of his memory, teasing him with the answer just out of reach.

  Giving up, Mako leaned back into the swing, letting the rhythmic motion lull him again. It was easier to focus on the sway of the chains, the way the swing rose and fell with comforting predictability.

  But her presence lingered in the corner of his mind, an unanswered question that refused to let go.

  "Having fun, Mako?"

  The voice sliced through the stillness, jolting him. Mako instinctively slowed his swing, blinking in surprise. "Kinda," he muttered reflexively, then froze. His head snapped toward the girl, though her face remained frustratingly obscured. "Wait—how do you know my name?"

  She giggled softly, a sound that teetered between pyful and unsettling. "Oh, I know many things."

  A chill crawled down his spine.

  Creepy, he thought, gripping the chains tighter. And yet, he didn't stop swinging. Something about her presence kept him anchored, even as every instinct whispered for him to leave. The air seemed heavier now, the faint sounds of the pyground dissolving into an eerie silence.

  Her tone shifted, softer now, yet tinged with disappointment. "I can't stay long, but I was curious… do you remember anything?"

  "Remember what?" Mako asked as a dull ache began to pulse in his head. He winced, his voice sharper than intended. "Am I supposed to remember? I'm not sure…"

  The girl sighed, the sound carrying a strange mix of resignation and faint amusement. "Maybe you're not a lost cause after all," she murmured. "That's good to know."

  Mako's grip tightened on the chains. "Who… who are you?" he asked, the unease in his voice betraying him. He leaned forward, straining to catch a glimpse of her face, but it was like her features were scratched out by a pitch-bck crayon.

  She didn't answer directly. Instead, her voice turned cryptic. "We might meet again. I was hoping this pce would spark a memory or two, but it seems not."

  His eyes darted around the pyground, the faint sense of déjà vu prickling at him. He knew this pce—he could feel it in his bones—but the specifics remained maddeningly out of reach, like fragments of sand slipping through his fingers.

  When he turned back to the girl, she was gone.

  "Hey!" Mako shouted, twisting desperately in his swing to look around. Nothing. The pyground was still, the only movement coming from the wind stirring the trees. His heart pounded in his chest. "Where… where did you go?"He tried to steady himself, to stop the swing and get off, but his hands wouldn't budge. No matter how hard he tried, his fingers clung to the chains, as if welded in pce.

  "What the…" Mako muttered, his voice shaky.

  Before he could make sense of it, the swing jerked violently, pulling him higher and faster. The motion wasn't his anymore—it was alive. The chains screeched, and his stomach dropped as he was dragged upward with terrifying force.

  "Hey! What in Dimension H—?!"

  The words were ripped from his mouth as the wind roared in his ears. The swing climbed higher, the pyground below smearing into streaks of color. Panic erupted in his chest, his muscles straining as he fought against the momentum, but it was no use.

  The swing's rhythm shifted, chaotic and unnatural, like a beast shaking its prey. The chains groaned ominously, and with one final, gut-wrenching lurch, the swing flung him into the sky like a catapult.

  Mako's heart leapt into his throat as time seemed to slow. He filed helplessly, suspended in midair, the world spinning around him in a dizzying blur.

  The fleeting weightlessness ended abruptly as he hit the ground, the impact smming into him like a freight train. His body skidded to a halt on rough asphalt, the air knocked from his lungs.

  Dazed, he blinked, the world around him blurry and dim. The rumble of wheels broke through the haze, growing louder with every passing second. A glimmer of light danced in his peripheral vision, and the unmistakable roar of a big rig's engine filled his ears.

  "Mako's breath caught in his throat as he gasped, turning his head. His mouth widened in horror as the truck bore down on him, its headlights gring like twin suns.

  "W-Wait—!" Was all he could sputter out as he threw his arms up in a futile attempt to shield himself.

  The blinding light swallowed him whole, and the deafening roar of the truck was repced by… silence.

  And then—darkness.