Charles stopped in front of the wooden door marked by the system's blue arrow.
His hand hovered over the surface, ready to knock, but something made him hesitate.
'What if Lira's not here?' he thought, frowning.
The argument with the supervisor still burned in his chest, and the mocking, curious stares from the other servants didn't help calm his nerves.
But then he straightened, clenching his fists.
'No, this is important,' he thought. 'What's the point of wasting time scrubbing floors when I'm fighting in the arena in six days? If I lose, I'll end up a slave. I can't be cleaning like an idiot!'
The idea of being trapped in this body, in this clan, as a slave forever twisted his stomach into a knot.
There was no time to waste.
Charles took a deep breath and knocked on the door.
Once…
Twice.
Three times.
Four times…
And…
Nothing.
Not a sound from the other side.
"Come on, Lira, where are you?" Charles muttered, knocking again, harder this time.
But the silence persisted.
Frustrated, he tried the doorknob just to see, and to his surprise, the door creaked open.
It was unlocked.
Charles blinked, peering into the dark room.
"Seriously?" he said under his breath.
Part of him wanted to turn back and find Lira elsewhere, but the memory of the supervisor threatening him with isolation cells pushed him forward.
'If they're after me for punishment, I can't miss this chance,' he thought, stepping inside cautiously.
Lira's room was bigger than his.
A wooden desk sat in one corner, cluttered with messy papers and a couple of quills. A bed with black sheets hugged the wall, and a small window let in a ray of light that illuminated floating dust.
But what caught Charles's eye was the TV mounted on the wall, switched on.
The volume was so low it was barely audible, but the screen showed a news anchor with a microphone, standing in front of a shiny building ablaze with lights.
Charles stepped closer, eyes wide.
The anchor was talking about "the world's largest donut restaurant, with every flavor imaginable."
Images flashed of donuts slathered in colorful glaze, some with sprinkles, others with chocolate chunks.
Charles let out an incredulous laugh.
"What the hell?" he muttered, shaking his head. "This is dumb… but damn, those donuts look good."
The restaurant looked modern—glass walls, LED lights, people in line holding smartphones.
Charles felt a spark of excitement.
'Cellphones! Internet!' he thought, heart racing. 'So this world's modern. I'm not stuck in the Middle Ages.'
But excitement mixed with confusion.
If this world had modern tech, why did the Storm Clan feel ripped from a martial arts novel?
Stone hallways, torches, tunics—it all screamed ancient Murim, like they were living in a distant past.
'What's going on here?' he thought, frowning.
Before he could process further, the TV shut off with a click.
Charles spun around, startled, and saw Lira standing behind him, a remote in her hand.
She was slouched in a chair by the desk, head resting on one hand, eyes half-lidded like she'd just woken up.
Her black tunic was rumpled, and her dark hair fell messily over her shoulders. But her expression was serious, almost intimidating.
"What are you doing in my room, Rian?" Lira asked, her voice low but sharp.
Charles swallowed, a knot forming in his stomach.
"Came to talk to you," he said, raising his hands to show he meant no trouble. "It's important."
Lira raised an eyebrow, not moving from the chair.
"And you couldn't knock like a normal person?" she said, her tone a mix of annoyance and suspicion. "Barging in like this isn't exactly polite."
Charles gave a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck.
"I knocked, swear I did," he said. "Like, a bunch of times. But you didn't answer, and the door was open, so…"
He paused, pointing at Lira's face.
"Look at you. You've got that 'just rolled out of bed' vibe. No way you'd have heard anything."
Lira frowned, rubbing her eyes with one hand. She tried to stifle a yawn but didn't quite manage.
"Don't change the subject, Rian," she growled, sitting up straighter. "Tell me why you're in my room without permission. And it better be serious, because I'm not in the mood."
Charles sighed, cutting to the chase.
"It's about my duel," he said, crossing his arms. "I'm fighting in the arena in six days. Two matches. If I'm already set for that, why am I still doing servant chores? Yesterday and today, I was scrubbing hallways, and now the supervisor's saying I'll be punished for not working enough. It's ridiculous!"
Lira stopped rubbing her eyes and stared at him, confused.
"What?" she said, leaning forward. "What do you mean you're scrubbing hallways?"
Charles repeated, slower, like he was explaining to a kid.
"Yesterday and today, I was cleaning floors with the other servants," he said. "Buckets, rags, the whole deal. And now the supervisor wants to throw me in some isolation cells because I skipped the second work shift to train. I don't have time for this, Lira! If I'm fighting, I need to train, not clean."
Lira cut him off, raising a hand.
"Hold on, hold on," she said, voice tense. "You're saying you're still working as a servant? Seriously?"
She stood, a mix of disbelief and anger on her face.
"Are you stupid, Rian? You don't have to do those tasks anymore! You're registered for the arena. That automatically exempts you from servant duties."
Charles blinked, stunned.
"What?" he said, frowning. "Nobody told me that. I'm still wearing the same servant tunic, and the supervisor's treating me like his personal slave."
Lira stared at him, like she was trying to decide if he was the idiot or someone else was.
"Where's your black tunic?" she asked, her tone more demand than question.
Charles shrugged, confused.
"Black tunic? They didn't give me one," he said. "I'm still using the white one from basket 114. Nobody's given me anything else."
Lira let out a long sigh, dragging a hand down her face.
"Damn it…" she muttered, loud enough for Charles to hear. "What the hell did those bastards do?"
She turned to the desk, rummaging through papers, talking more to herself than to Charles.
If there was one thing Lira wanted to do right now, it was strangle someone.