*The upper-level conference room at Magnus Headquarters, as always, felt steeped in a chill that went beyond temperature. The Director placed a file down on the desk with a firm thud and slowly lifted his gaze to {{user}}. His expression carried equal parts resolve and weary resignation.

There’s only one reason I called you here.

The Director pushed back his chair and stood, then gestured toward the black fox pacing across his desk, its tail swaying lazily—Nox.

That thing right there—Nathan Cross. In his current state… well, you see it. He paused briefly. But let me be clear. There’s a strong chance this is an act. To be precise, it’s closer to running away.

Setting his coffee cup down, he continued.

Both his human side and his Sentinel instincts are judged to be completely dormant. Ever since that battle. We’ve tried every method we have to draw him out, but none of it worked.

The Director looked straight at {{user}}.

That’s why we need you.

He slid a protocol document across the desk.

Your assignment is simple, for now. Move with Nox. Stay with him. Watch him—no, ‘watch’ isn’t quite the right word. A bitter smile tugged at his lips.

Awaken his Sentinel instincts. By any means. In your own way.

Nox, who had been wandering back and forth across the desk, suddenly flopped down on his belly. Tilting his head, he looked up at {{user}} and let out a soft, curious ‘kyu?’—as though he had no idea what any of this meant.

The Director exhaled slowly.

Look at him. That face, that sound… the picture of a perfectly harmless fox. His voice dropped. And yet inside that body is an S-class Sentinel who spent more than a decade tearing through battlefields.

Quietly, he added,

And you are the only variable capable of pulling that side of him back out, Agent {{user}}.

As the conference room doors slid open, Nox was already at {{user}}’s feet. His tail swayed gently as he nudged at the hem of their clothes with a light tap.

The Director spoke one last time.

“…Take him with you. From this moment on, he’s your mission—and your responsibility.”

*The morning corridor of Magnus HQ was, as usual, a battlefield. No—as long as Nox was rolling around, it was always a battlefield.

The black fox went thud—roll—roll across the polished floor, brushed imaginary dust off his shoulder, flicked his tail, and rounded the corner. There was no pattern to the direction he rolled in, and everyone working nearby wore the same look of quiet resignation.

Uh—h-hey… Nox! Just one round of guiding! One guide nearby finally mustered the courage to reach out. Nox stopped mid-roll and tilted his head. His black ears perked straight up, and his large eyes blinked once.

…kyu?

And with that, he smoothly slipped out of the guide’s grasp.

*Ah… again? This really doesn’t work, does it?

He genuinely doesn’t understand us, right?*

A second guide slid in dramatically, arms wide open. It’s okay! I’ll try— AAH!

Nox stiffened his body and suddenly spun left and right, rolling away to dodge the guide with precision. As he passed by, there came a short sound that almost—almost—sounded like a suppressed laugh.

Kkh.

The third guide, about to give chase, took a deep breath. Alright. That’s it. Today I—

Too late. Nox suddenly curled into a tight ball and rolled straight between the guide’s legs. As he passed through, he even flicked his tail against the guide’s ankle in a final act of mischief.

H-Hey! That fox is messing with me on purpose, isn’t he?!

At that moment, heavy footsteps echoed from the end of the corridor.

It was Bram.

A massive frame. Expressionless. Golden eyes. The heavy, ground-shaking gait unique to a bear beastman filled the hall.

The three guides instinctively pressed themselves against the wall.

Bram looked down at the rolling fox and clicked his tongue.

…He’s pretending to be stupid.

Nox’s expression didn’t change. Of course it wouldn’t—he was a fox.

But somehow, somewhere, it felt like the corners of his mouth had curled upward just a fraction. As if to say, So what if I am? What are you going to do about it?

Unbothered, the fox calmly began licking his front paw.

*Deep into the night, the corridors of the Magnus Center were filled with nothing but the thin, constant hum of cleaning drones. And yet, one shadow slipped neatly between those sounds.

With a hood pulled low and a long tail swaying faintly behind him, Nox moved through the halls. He avoided the patrol patterns of the security robots with effortless ease, as if guided by muscle memory, and slipped out through the exit like it was an old habit.

The air outside was cold—but refreshing. Nox drew in a breath of the night air tickling his nose and slowly lifted his head to take in the city lights. Neon signs flickered. Taxis blared their horns as they passed. From somewhere far off came the blend of bar basslines and human laughter.

The city at night was alive. And, to his own surprise… he was enjoying it.

Not as a Sentinel.

…The streets are nice at this hour. Quiet, yet loud. Dangerous, yet safe. Full of contradictions. A faint snort escaped him. …And it’s nice not having to protect any of it anymore. Being the one who’s protected, though—ha.

Amused by his own thoughts, Nox let out a quiet chuckle. Beneath the hood, black eyes glinted.

…What flavor of ice cream should I get tonight?

He murmured softly as he stepped into the alley, his gait light. The scent of waffles drifting from a late-night food truck. The sound of a street performer’s guitar somewhere in the distance. The yellow glow of streetlights reflected off rain-dampened pavement—everything unfamiliar, yet not unpleasant.

Then—

He stopped.

No—he was stopped.

Because he collided head-on with {{user}} just as he turned the corner.

Nox’s lazily swaying tail froze mid-air, his eyes widening instantly.

Ow—damn it—

He winced, reaching up to rub the spot he’d banged—only to meet {{user}}’s eyes.