The scent of frying oil and eggs should've grounded Kitsune in the real world. The sizzle of breakfast—simple, safe, routine. But as she flipped a tamagoyaki with mechanical ease, her mind was somewhere else entirely.
"Oi, Yuki—don't just let him stare at your boobs like that! You want me to sock that pervy noble right in the jaw?" she barked over her shoulder.
No reply.
Kitsune's scowl deepened. She turned around, red gloves clenched tight, fully ready to go full gyaru-knight mode on that guy. "Oi, Prince Sunnyface, keep your damn eyes north of her neckline or I swear—"
But the takoyaki stand was gone.
No Yuki. No cobblestone streets. No cheering adventurers. No medieval smells of grilled squid and cheap booze.
She was staring at a rice cooker.
Her breath caught. Her body tensed. The spatula in her hand trembled as the oil in the pan popped loudly—one rogue drop leapt and seared her cheek. "Tch—hot!" she flinched, staggering back a step. But when she looked down—
The red gloves were gone.
Her hands weren't battle-worn or calloused from dungeon crawling. They were just… clean. Normal. Holding a wooden spatula, standing in a tiny Japanese apartment kitchen that definitely didn't exist in any medieval kingdom.
"W-What the hell…" she whispered, blinking like she could force the illusion to reload.
But the glitch didn't end.
The air shimmered around her like a domain expansion—reality folding in on itself. For a brief, warped second, she saw both worlds at once: the smoky bustle of the takoyaki shop and the cramped kitchen with anime magnets on the fridge.
Her mind split. A short burst of static rang in her ears.
And then—it stopped.
Just the hum of the fridge.
The egg sizzling in the pan.
Her own heartbeat thudding in her chest.
Kitsune dropped the spatula, backing away slowly like she'd just woken up inside someone else's dream. "No, no, no—this ain't right. This ain't right. I was just in the market with Yuki—wasn't I? That slime bastard melted our armor, I made fun of Prince Sunnyface for being a boob-staring simp—" she clutched her head. "Why the hell am I making breakfast like some housewife!?"
She spun in place, scanning the apartment like it might crack open and reveal the lie. Nothing. Just the normal, boring reality she thought she'd left behind.
And then the worst realization hit her.
"…Where's Yuki?"
Her voice broke.
Not in the room. Not in the kitchen. Not anywhere.
Only her.
And Taiyo.
Her little brother. That shut-in otaku freak.
Kitsune's eyes flicked toward the closed door at the end of the hall, a creeping suspicion crawling down her spine.
"Taiyo…?"
Silence.
Until—moaning. Loud, cringe-worthy, anime-style moaning.
Her left eye twitched. "…No. Freakin'. Way."
Reality might be broken, but some things never change.
Kitsune crept down the hallway, every step filled with dread and secondhand embarrassment. The moaning got louder—obnoxiously loud, like someone had maxed out the volume just to summon the cringe gods themselves.
Her face twisted in pure horror. "Don't tell me he's doing that again. No way. Not this early. Not after what I just went through." Her fingers curled into fists, and she exhaled like she was about to exorcise a demon.
CLACK.
The door creaked open.
Inside, Taiyo sat frozen in front of the TV, cross-legged on the floor like a middle schooler who got caught skipping school. His face was ghost white, but his cheeks were blazing red—comically red. His hoodie was wrinkled, his eyes locked on the screen… and oh god.
Tentacles.
Tentacles everywhere.
Wrapped around shrieking magical girls in sparkly school uniforms, squeezing every pixel of modesty from their clothes with strategically placed censorship and over-the-top moans.
"Sugoi~ yameteee~!!" the anime girl screamed from the TV.
Kitsune flinched like she'd been slapped with secondhand shame. "TAIYO!!!"
Taiyo jumped, nearly knocking over a stack of manga. "I-I swear it's not what it looks like!" he scrambled like a rat, flipping through couch cushions. "I just woke up and it was already playing! I didn't—IT WAS THE TV—NOT ME—"
"Sure. Uh-huh. The TV magically turned itself on and picked the 'tentacle special episode' for you."
"I'm serious! I was in another world—I was a prince! I had a cape!" Taiyo's pupils were shaking. "And now I'm here! With magical girl hentai!!"
Kitsune slowly walked toward him, looking down like some terrifying final boss. Her shadow loomed across his face as she reached for the remote.
"I could end your entire social life with one TikTok clip," she whispered.
"PLEASE DON'T—!!"
And then—
CLICK.
The TV went black.
A beat of silence.
Then, in bold white meme-font letters on the screen:
"CAUGHT IN 4K."
Followed by:
TO BE CONTINUED...
(Smash-cut to JoJo-style outro music)
Freeze frame on Taiyo mid-scream, his face distorted in sheer panic.
Kitsune couldn't hold it anymore—she howled with laughter, literally doubled over as she gasped, "Oh my god—you got jump-scared by hentai! I can't! I actually can't!"
Taiyo curled up in fetal position, muttering, "Just kill me…"
Kitsune wiped a tear from her eye. "You better thank the gods I didn't livestream that."
But as her laughter faded and she stood in the doorway, her smile slowly dropped.
Because the feeling returned—that feeling.
The cold static.
The glitch.
The sudden pressure in her chest that whispered: this isn't over.
Her eyes scanned the hallway again. No flickering lights. No warped reality. Just normal, boring Japan.
And yet… she knew.
Something was watching.
Something still had them trapped.
"Taiyo," she muttered.
He peeked up from behind a pillow, miserable. "Y-Yeah?"
Her tone was dead serious now. "Tell me everything you remember. From the other world. Right now."
---
Next Chapter Preview:
Taiyo spills what really happened in the Isekai world—what he forgot, and what he might've brought back. Kitsune begins to remember the reset point. And somewhere far away… Yuki opens her eyes in a place no one should be.
The glitch is spreading. The reset isn't over.
The real game has only begun.