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  Chapter 7: The City

  Nagi froze, his head tilted back toward the sky. Massive buildings clad in glass and concrete pressed down with their sheer power.

  — So this is the city… The perfect place for a great story, — he whispered, unable to close his mouth in awe.

  (Could all this grandeur really have existed so close while I was living in my backwater?)

  Mei snorted irritably and, without ceremony, shoved her heavy bag into his hands.

  — Stop staring. My legs are already killing me, — she said, heading into the crowd.

  They walked along the sidewalk. Life boiled around them: people in strict suits, forever busy and rushing somewhere, flowed past like a faceless current. Soon Nagi noticed a bright food truck on wheels with a sign reading “Fresh Pastries.”

  (Damn, I’d give anything for a proper snack right now.)

  — Hey, Mei, — Nagi cleared his throat awkwardly, — maybe I can make up for that little misunderstanding this morning with a tasty bun?

  Mei sighed theatrically, brushing a strand of hair aside.

  — Fine. I’ll pretend I’ve forgiven you.

  They approached the truck.

  — Two cinnamon buns, please, — Nagi asked, fishing out some coins.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  — Poppy seed for me! — Mei cut in sharply. — I’m allergic to cinnamon. Remember that.

  The vendor handed them their order. Nagi greedily took a bite of his bun.

  (Tasty! But… something’s off. The flavor feels sterile, like the dough is missing something important… a soul?)

  Mei pinched off a tiny piece of hers.

  — Not bad. The author of this recipe clearly tried, — she remarked coldly, continuing on.

  — So where to now? — Nagi asked, struggling to keep up with her pace.

  — To my place for now. Tomorrow we’ll visit my parents. It’s already evening; we shouldn’t bother them without warning.

  Nagi felt his shirt sticking to his back with sweat. He dropped heavily onto the nearest bench.

  — That’s it. I’m done. I need a break.

  — Move it! — Mei snapped. — I’m not standing in the middle of the street until nightfall!

  — Then sit down next to me, — Nagi replied calmly, wiping his forehead.

  His gaze grew distant. His thoughts returned to recent events.

  (Why was she so sure the village was gone? Where did she get that information? No one back home ever said a bad word about the king… This is seriously strange.)

  Mei stood beside him, staring at the passing cars with an empty, lifeless look.

  (I can’t keep playing this role anymore… I need to finish this route as soon as possible,) she thought, clenching her fists.

  Nagi finally stood up.

  — Fine. Let’s go.

  Soon they reached a high-rise residential complex. After climbing to the second floor, Nagi dropped the bags in the hallway and exhaled weakly.

  — Finally…

  His legs buckled from exhaustion. Seeing his condition, Mei took the drowsy boy by the shoulder and practically dragged him to the bed.

  — Sleep tight, — she whispered as he drifted off, then sank tiredly into a chair opposite him.

  High above the city, beyond the sight of ordinary people, stretched a transparent dome. It was the “Creator’s Zone” — his observation point, from which the world looked like nothing more than a complex diagram.

  | Romance… I can’t stand this sugary nonsense. The faster this phase ends, the better. And for now — time to clear the old set pieces. |

  The Creator instantly teleported to the village’s ashes. Fire was still devouring what remained of the houses. He summoned a panel and, with a single press of a key, erased the place from the map of reality. The land became perfectly flat and empty.

  — Much better. Cleared space for future locations.

  | The last survivor in this sector is Object No. 43. Strange, I’ve become too fixated on him. Who knows, maybe he really could handle the role of “Main Hero”? For now he’s still weak… aside from that incident with the bear. |

  Morning in the city began with its usual bustle. The roar of engines and the pounding of hundreds of feet filled the streets.

  Nagi opened his eyes and saw Mei. She was asleep right in the chair, her head resting against the back. He walked over and gently touched her shoulder.

  — Wake up. Time to go.

  She didn’t move. Nagi froze, staring at her face. Obeying a strange impulse, he slowly leaned closer. His lips nearly touched her forehead — he wanted to do what he had dreamed about for so long. But at the last moment, Mei’s hand pressed sharply against his chest, pushing him away.

  — I’m not asleep. And I wouldn’t advise waking me up like that, — she said coldly, opening her eyes.

  (Damn… I was so close.)

  According to the script, today they were supposed to meet her “parents.”