chapter 3: Inexpressif

Cyrus dragged his exhausted body into his room, slamming the door behind him with a resounding thud. The weight of his troubles seemed to press down on his shoulders, making each step a monumental effort. He collapsed onto the sofa in the living room, his fingers trembling as they clutched the fateful letter. The seal on the envelope was all too familiar, a sight that sent a chill down his spine.

"I should have held my mouth shut," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. The regret in his tone was palpable, hanging heavy in the air around him.

He stared at the ceiling, his mind racing with the implications of what lay within that innocuous envelope. "Well, game over for me, huh?" he said to the empty room, his words tinged with bitter resignation. "Not only am I about to lose my job, but now my house too. Guess I'll be living in a cardboard box next to the arcade."

With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the letter away, watching it flutter to the floor like a discarded dream. Cyrus hung his head, his fingers threading through his hair as he grappled with the harsh reality of his situation.

"Why am I so useless?" he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. "Why can't I be like others? Maybe he was right... I can't do anything other than gaming."

The weight of his perceived failures pressed down on him, suffocating in its intensity. Seeking an escape from the torment of his thoughts, Cyrus leaned back on the sofa, allowing his eyes to drift closed. Sleep claimed him swiftly, a temporary respite from the harsh realities that awaited him in the waking world.

The next morning arrived with an unforgiving brilliance. Cyrus left his apartment early, driven by a restless energy he couldn't quite name. The sun hung high in the sky, its powerful rays beating down on the city below. He found himself rushing through the park roads, his feet pounding against the pavement in a steady rhythm.

As he ran, the world around him became a blur of motion and color. Figures flashed past his vision, indistinct and fleeting. His body was in constant motion, muscles working in perfect harmony as he pushed himself forward. The wind caressed his skin, offering a small measure of relief from the heat of exertion.

Cyrus's chest heaved up and down, lungs working overtime to supply oxygen to his straining muscles. Beads of sweat trickled down his face, leaving glistening trails in their wake. His heart beat swiftly, a steady drumbeat that echoed in his ears.

Finally, after what felt like hours but was likely only a fraction of that time, Cyrus came to a halt. He bent over, hands on his knees as he sucked in great gulps of air.

"I don't understand why I have so much stamina despite running since the first rays of the sun," he mused between breaths, genuinely puzzled by his unexpected endurance.

Straightening up, Cyrus made his way to a nearby bench and sank down onto it gratefully. His gaze darted around the park, taking in the vibrant scene before him. The grass was a dazzling, verdant green, flourishing under the summer sun. All around him, people moved in various directions, each caught up in their own little worlds.

A group of children caught his attention, their laughter carrying across the park. They were chasing after what appeared to be a ball of light, an enchanting sight that spoke of the magic that still existed in this world. Each time one of the children came into contact with the light, they would suddenly levitate, rising into the sky with startled squeals of delight and fear.

As Cyrus watched, the floating children were taken on a wild aerial tour of the park, their excited screams mingling with frantic calls for their parents. Strangely, despite the initial fright, once they were safely returned to the ground, the children would immediately give chase to the light once more. It was a behavior Cyrus couldn't quite understand, but found oddly endearing.

Without realizing it, a smile found its way onto Cyrus's face. The innocence and joy of the scene before him provided a stark contrast to the worries that had plagued him earlier.

"How I wish I was still a kid with nothing to worry about," he said softly, a hint of wistfulness in his voice. "I could have just roamed the city free and enjoy everything without having to spend a dime."

Reality, however, was quick to reassert itself. Cyrus shook his head, as if trying to physically dislodge the wishful thoughts. "Exit the game, Cyrus. You can't be a kid anymore," he mumbled to himself, leaning back on the bench with a sigh.

Lost in his thoughts, Cyrus was startled when a voice suddenly broke through his reverie. "Stopping here during my jog is a treasure," the voice said, light and melodious. "Watching these kids play, it's a temporary escape from reality, a breath of innocence in a chaotic world."

Cyrus tilted his head to the side, blinking in surprise as he took in the source of the voice. It was a lady – not just any lady, but the lady! A striking beauty lightly dressed in her jogging attire stood before him. He had the unexpected luxury of observing her well-developed body in great detail, his eyes widening slightly as he took in her form.

She appeared to be around the same age as him, with black hair tied back in a neat ponytail. As their eyes met, she offered him a warm smile that sent his heart racing.

Is this real? Cyrus wondered, his mind reeling from the unexpected encounter.

He freaked out, tilting his head to the side in an attempt to compose himself. "You're right," he blurted out, unaware of his words until they had already left his mouth. "Indeed, you're a treasure."

The woman laughed, her naturally pleasing voice flowing into his ears like a melody, almost hypnotic in its effect on him. "Forgive the intrusion," she said, raising her hand in greeting. "I'm Mariline."

Cyrus's mind raced, a flurry of thoughts competing for attention. This is it, Cyrus. You can do it. She's just before you. Just ask her out. But what if she refuses?

Paralyzed by indecision and sudden nerves, Cyrus opted for what he perceived as the safest course of action. "Nice to meet me," he stammered, wincing internally at his verbal slip. "I need to go now."

Before Mariline could respond, Cyrus bounced back to his feet and took off running, disappearing as fast as he could. He ran for an unknown amount of time, his feet carrying him far from the park and the beautiful woman he'd left behind.

Finally coming to a halt, Cyrus furtively glanced backward, half-expecting to see Mariline in pursuit. When he confirmed she wasn't there, he let out a sigh of relief, one hand coming to rest over his pounding heart.

Damn, Cyrus, you've screwed up your game, he thought, mentally berating himself. She'll think you're a fool now.

He slapped his face lightly, frustrated with his own behavior. What will she think if she learned the only reason I started jogging was to observe her? She'll probably take me for a pervert.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Cyrus muttered, "I really need a day off." He began to stroll through the streets, allowing his feet to carry him wherever they wished. Soon, he found himself in front of a nondescript shop. The sign above the door was old and nearly falling off, lending the place an air of neglect.

Pulling open the doors, Cyrus entered the almost deserted shop. A few patrons passed by him without sparing him a glance, caught up in their own business. Cyrus's eyes darted back and forth, scanning his surroundings as if he expected to be under surveillance at any moment.

With purposeful steps, Cyrus made his way to a staircase at the back of the shop. He climbed the stairs quickly, his hand coming to rest on the doorknob at the top. Without hesitation, he turned the knob and entered the room beyond without warning.

The figure within jolted in fright at the sudden intrusion, hastily pulling down a stack of papers in a futile attempt to hide them from view. "Did you misplace your manners along with your sense of direction?" the occupant of the room asked, his voice tinged with annoyance.

"Come on, Lork, it's me," Cyrus replied, dropping into a nearby chair without ceremony. He showed no interest in the papers his friend had tried to conceal.

As Cyrus settled in, he took a moment to observe his friend. Lork looked ordinary at first glance, probably in his twenties like Cyrus himself. However, as Cyrus watched, Lork's skin flickered, changing to a deep blue hue. His ears began to grow, unfurling like exotic flowers blooming in fast-forward. This was Lork, Cyrus's non-human friend, in his true form.

"Are those maps still about snooping around the bureau's headquarters?" Cyrus asked, nodding towards the papers Lork had tried to hide.

Lork's posture relaxed slightly as he realized there was no immediate threat. "Yep," he confirmed, a hint of excitement creeping into his voice. "Guess what? I've cracked it. I've got a plan to slide right under their radar and infiltrate their ranks." He approached Cyrus, pulling out the maps with a flourish. "Here. If we..."

Cyrus cut him off with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Come on, not this again. You know you're no match for them. This obsession of yours is going to land you in serious trouble one day."

He has only that in mind, Cyrus thought to himself. How to break down the bureau. But is that even possible? That was the law in Arkania. Everyone had to bow to them. It was a lost cause, but no matter what I say, he wouldn't listen.

Lork, sensing Cyrus's lack of enthusiasm, changed tack. He perched himself on the edge of the office table, his enigmatic gaze falling on Cyrus. "Alright, spill the beans. You didn't just barge in here to gaze upon my dazzling presence, did you? What's on your mind?"

"Guilty," Cyrus admitted with a sheepish grin. After a moment's hesitation, he added, "I met her."

Lork's eyes widened, flickering between blue and black in his excitement. "Wow, buddy! How did it go with your crush? Did you go in for smooth or chicken out at the last second?"

Cyrus bristled at the implication. "Bastard, who? Me, chicken out? It was a strategic retreat," he insisted, though his tone lacked conviction.

"Hmm... so you didn't kiss?" Lork pressed, leaning in closer.

"Hey, back off a bit, will ya?" Cyrus pushed Lork's head away, exasperated. "Where did you even pick up the idea that people kiss the first time they meet?"

Lork scratched his chin thoughtfully. "It actually happens in all the series I've watched," he replied, as if this were irrefutable evidence.

Cyrus shook his head, a mix of amusement and frustration on his face. This guy, he thought, wondering not for the first time how he'd ended up with such an eccentric friend.

Lork's expression suddenly darkened, his fists clenching at his sides. "I see, the bastard," he growled, his face contorting into a horrible glare. If Cyrus hadn't been accustomed to Lork's dramatic mood swings, he might have been genuinely frightened by the display.

"I know it looks nuts," Cyrus said, his gaze unfocused as he replayed the encounter in his mind. "I definitely don't know what to do now." He looked at Lork hopefully, silently pleading for some sage advice or miraculous solution.

Lork's face lit up, his previous anger forgotten in an instant. "Listen up," he declared, puffing out his chest importantly. "I've got a genius plan tailor-made just for you. Brace yourself for some brilliance!"

As Lork launched into an explanation of his 'foolproof' plan, Cyrus found himself wondering if he'd made a mistake in coming here. But deep down, he knew that no matter how outlandish Lork's ideas might be, his friend's heart was in the right place. And right now, with his world seemingly falling apart around him, Cyrus needed all the support he could get – even if it came in the form of a blue-skinned alien with a penchant for harebrained schemes.