I barely had time to process what just happened before I heard Camille's voice.
I blinked, still disoriented. My heart was still pounding in my chest, my body still bracing for another punch that wasn't coming. The lights, the roaring crowd—it was gone. I was back on the couch.
But my nose still stung like hell.
I exhaled, rubbing at it instinctively. No blood. But the phantom sensation of it dripping down felt too real.
"Are you okay?" Sienna leaned forward, worry creasing her features.
I nodded, still rubbing my nose. "Yeah. Just some... whiplash."
Camille raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Whiplash? You were sitting down."
I shot her a look. "You ever get punched in the face so hard you feel it in two different dimensions?"
That got her attention.
She sat up straighter. "New job?"
Her eyes flickered with understanding. "I'll get another mask ready."
I didn't even need to explain. She already knew what it meant.
She stretched and stood up, muttering about getting to work. As she walked off, Sienna got up too. "I'll make dinner."
I sighed, still rubbing at my nose as I leaned back.
That should've been the end of it.
But Alexis, ever the curious one, narrowed her eyes. "Why do you keep wiping your nose?"
I hesitated, then sighed. "Because it feels like I'm bleeding."
She hummed, setting down her coffee before pushing herself up. "Come with me."
I gave her a wary look. "Why?"
"Because I need to check you out. If you suddenly collapse from a brain hemorrhage, I don't want to be blamed for not stopping it."
I sighed. "I highly doubt it's that serious."
"And I'd rather be sure." She jerked her head towards the hallway. "Come on."
Alexis' office wasn't fully renovated yet, but stepping inside, it was already impressive.
A sleek hospital bed sat in the center, its frame polished and pristine. To the side, a rolling medical tray held various instruments, neatly arranged. A computer workstation sat in the corner, hooked up to monitors and input systems, no doubt for logging vitals and observations.
Cabinets lined the walls, filled with neatly labeled medications and medical tools. There was even a portable diagnostic scanner resting on a small table.
It was, in every sense, a miniature clinic inside our home.
I leaned against the doorway, taking it all in.
I still wasn't used to how big this place was.
Sure, it was technically an apartment, but calling it that felt ridiculous. It was practically a penthouse. Spacious rooms. High-end renovations. Even a private gym.
It hit me again—how much my life had changed.
A year ago, I was an F-Rank nobody with a place so small that my shower had to be a communal one in the hallway. Hell, back then, my whole house had been half the size of the office's bathroom here.
Now, I had a home with people who actually cared if I lived or died.
I couldn't be happier about that.
...Even if the government trying to murder me kind of dampened the mood.
I exhaled, shaking the thought off. Maybe one day, I should actually explore this place. I hadn't even been to every room yet.
Then again, if this was just an A-Rank home, what the hell did an S-Rank house look like?
"Are you just gonna stand there all day?"
I blinked, snapping out of my thoughts.
Alexis was already waiting by the hospital bed, arms crossed.
I sighed and made my way over, hopping onto the bed. "Alright, nurse, do your worst."
She shot me a dry look. "I'm treating a phantom nosebleed, not a heart attack. I think I'll manage."
She pulled on a pair of gloves and leaned in, tilting my chin up slightly as she examined my nose.
I let my mind wander again.
When I first acquired the Jobmaster title, I felt nothing but rage.
I wanted to tear apart the system that crushed those at the bottom while letting the powerful do whatever the hell they wanted.
I didn't feel that same fire.
Not because the system was better, but because...
I was benefiting from it too.
I was climbing the ranks, and now, I was in a position where I needed to become World President to keep the people around me safe.
I hated that I had to play the system's game. But if it meant protecting them...
What choice did I have?
Alexis had flicked my forehead.
I scowled. "What the hell was that for?"
"You weren't answering." She pulled back, taking off her gloves. "I asked how you were feeling."
I sighed, rubbing my temples. "Tired."
She raised an eyebrow. "From what?"
I hesitated, then explained.
"When I got my new job, I saw something. I was in a ring. A silhouette punched me in the face. And now, I feel like my nose is bleeding—even though it's not."
Alexis hummed, running through possibilities in her head. I could practically see the gears turning.
"Well, it's not an actual nosebleed," she muttered. "No trauma, no break, no physical damage. No neurological symptoms either."
She crossed something off a mental checklist.
I smirked. "You sure you're not a doctor?"
She rolled her eyes. "Again. Nosebleed. Not heart attack."
A moment later, she clicked her tongue. "You've got Phantom Perception."
I raised an eyebrow. "Phantom Perception?"
"It's like phantom limb syndrome," she explained. "Your brain registered the hit like it actually happened—even though it didn't. Your body is tricking itself into feeling the injury."
I frowned. "So how do I fix it?"
"You don't. You just need to convince your brain it's not real."
I gave her a look. "And how do I do that?"
She smirked. "Meditation."
I groaned. "You just want an excuse to make me sit still."
"Yes," she admitted. "Now come on. Sit down."
We sat on the floor, legs crossed, facing each other.
The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the medical equipment.
Alexis took the lead, guiding me through the steps.
"Focus on your breathing," she said softly. "Inhale... Exhale..."
For a moment, everything felt still.
My breathing slowed. My muscles relaxed.
A roar echoed in the distance.
I was back in the ring.
The bright lights. The massive crowd. The pulse of adrenaline in my veins.
Still in a fighting stance.
I barely had time to react before—