To The Reel Of My Future

The void still twisted and coiled around them like a living entity, pulsating with an unnatural rhythm that seemed to echo directly into their minds.

Forreal's feet felt unsteady on the ground—or whatever passed for it in this realm of maddening chaos. Despite the surreal surroundings, she couldn't shake the heaviness in her chest from the encounter with the Nameless.

But if she were to be too distraught by this, then she was afraid that she might not be ready for what the doomed future brings in store.

Breaking the silence, she turned to Surreal, her voice hesitant. "Was that the last thing you needed to do before… you know… enacting your plan?"

Surreal tilted his head, his closed eyes curving into a faintly amused expression. "Oh my, how earnest you are. One might think you're eager for me to get started on my grand act of mass murder."

"What?! That's not what I meant!" Forreal snapped, her cheeks flushing as she glared at him.

Surreal chuckled softly, raising a gloved hand as if to placate her. "Relax, Forreal. I'm just teasing. And no, that wasn't the last stop. There's still one more person I need to visit."

Forreal raised an eyebrow. "One more person? Don't tell me you're planning to visit every single human on Earth before you…"

"Kill them all?" Surreal finished for her, his serene smile widening. "Oh, how delightfully eager you sound, Forreal. You are really born to perform what humanity deem as vile and horrifying."

"For the last time, that's not what I meant!" Forreal snapped, her hands balling into fists at her sides.

It was as if she was about to launch a mean uppercut.

But she knew, deep down, that there was nothing she could do to defy this maniac.

To think that I still need to deal with this guy after he deliberately traumatized me, Forreal sarcastically thought to herself, then again, he must have his own share of insurmountable baggage if she could just dismiss his mother without hesitation like that.

Surreal chuckled again, clearly enjoying himself. 

Without another word, he raised a hand, and the void around them rippled like disturbed water.

They reappeared on the fifth-floor exterior railing of an apartment block, the city's nightscape stretching out before them like a glittering sea of stars. The air was crisp, carrying the faint hum of distant traffic and the occasional bark of a stray dog.

Forreal shivered slightly, glancing around. "An apartment block? What are we doing here?"

Surreal didn't answer immediately, stepping gracefully off the railing and onto the concrete walkway. He moved with purpose, leading Forreal to the front door of Apartment 612.

He knocked lightly, his movements unusually formal, and the sound echoed faintly in the stillness.

Forreal crossed her arms, glancing at him skeptically. "Who are we visiting?"

Surreal's serene smile widened slightly. "My former future wife."

Forreal froze, her mind struggling to process the words. "Your—what?!"

Before she could demand an explanation, a feminine deep voice called from inside the apartment. "Just a moment!"

The door creaked open moments later, and the woman standing in the doorway left both Forreal and Surreal momentarily stunned.

She was tall—at least 190 cm or 6 feet 2 inches—with a slim, athletic build that gave her an air of effortless grace. Her face was averagely pretty, framed by dark, shoulder-length hair that was slightly disheveled, as if she'd been lying on the couch moments before. She wore casual clothing, a loose-fitting sweatshirt and pajama shorts, paired with fluffy slippers.

Her expression was one of nervous confusion as she glanced between Surreal and Forreal, her gaze lingering a little too long on the former. "Uh… can I help you?"

Forreal noticed something else; Surreal's extra arms were gone. At this moment, he appeared like a normal, albeit stunningly beautiful, individual dressed in an expensive business suit.

Surreal stepped forward slightly, offering a bright, genuine smile that seemed to catch the woman off guard. "Am I speaking with Yuria Brown? Born June 23rd? A woman with an undeniable penchant for instant noodles as a midnight snack?"

Yuria blinked, visibly startled. "I… yes, that's me. Who are you, and how do you know that?"

Surreal's smile softened. "Apologies for the sudden inconvenience. My name is Surreal, and this is my twin, Forreal." He gestured toward his companion, who gave an awkward nod.

Yuria blinked again, her confusion only deepening. "Twins…?"

Surreal continued, his tone warm and disarming. "There is important information that I want to share with you. Of course, you're free to postpone this and talk another time when you're ready, but we meant no ill and harm.

"Regardless, I hope we're not rudely intruding."

Realizing she'd left her guests standing in the hallway, Yuria flushed. "Oh, no! I mean—please, come in." She stepped aside, motioning for them to enter. "I'm a little bit bored today, so might as well!"

Forreal followed reluctantly, her gaze darting between Yuria and Surreal. She couldn't help but notice that Yuria's eyes kept drifting back to Surreal, her cheeks tinged with the faintest hint of interest.

Yuria seemed to catch onto something that Forreal failed to grasp at the moment, and Forreal knew that.

To think that this was Surreal's former future wife.

Wait, if she is Surreal's partner in this timeline, such a thought beckoned Forreal's mind, then how about my future partner!?

Forreal then realized that it was such a dumb thing to muddle about, since there was a difference in terms of career advancement and the fact that Surreal was chosen on this Earth and she was not.

Per Yuria's permission, both Surreal and Forreal entered the apartment.

The apartment was modest but cozy, with a small living room dominated by a well-worn couch and a coffee table cluttered with books and snacks. A soft, warm light bathed the space, making it feel inviting despite its simplicity.

Surreal glanced around, his smile never faltering. "Lovely place you have here."

"Uh, thanks," Yuria said, shifting nervously.

"Actually," Surreal began, tilting his head, "Would you mind if I borrowed your kitchen? There's something I'd like to prepare. Just think of it as an act of courtesy for barging in the middle of the dusk without any notice."

Forreal frowned. "What are you planning to cook? We didn't bring anything—" She stopped mid-sentence, her eyes widening as she noticed Surreal holding two large grocery bags filled with ingredients.

Yuria, seemingly oblivious to the strangeness of the situation, nodded quickly. "Ah, sure! Go ahead!"

"I shall only make the finest as my expression of gratitude."

Surreal stepped into the kitchen with an air of practiced elegance, his movements fluid and precise. He began unpacking the bags, laying out an assortment of fresh vegetables, meats, and spices with the meticulous care of a seasoned chef.

Forreal leaned against the counter, watching in disbelief. "When did you even get those?"

Surreal didn't look up as he replied, "Details, Forreal. Details."

The apartment was soon filled with the mouthwatering aroma of a gourmet feast in progress. Surreal worked with an almost hypnotic rhythm, chopping vegetables with the speed and precision of a master, his knife flashing in the dim light. A pan sizzled as he seared cuts of tender steak, the edges caramelizing into a perfect golden crust.

He moved seamlessly between tasks, whipping up a rich, velvety soup from scratch, tossing a vibrant salad with a citrus vinaigrette, and crafting delicate pastries filled with a fragrant custard. 

Each dish was plated with the kind of artistry reserved for Michelin-starred restaurants.

Yuria watched from the living room, her hands clasped nervously as her gaze remained fixed on Surreal. 

Forreal, meanwhile, sat at the coffee table, her arms crossed and her expression unimpressed—until Surreal placed a steaming cup of instant ramen in front of her, accompanied by a small plate of salad.

"Bon appétit," he said with a grin, returning to the kitchen.

Forreal scowled. "Really? She gets a gourmet meal, and I get… this?"

"You're welcome," Surreal quipped, setting down a plate of roasted duck breast with a red wine reduction in front of Yuria, who looked both overwhelmed and flustered.

"I… I don't know what to say," Yuria stammered, staring at the feast before her. "This looks more expensive than my monthly wage."

"Just enjoy," Surreal said softly, his serene smile genuine.

Yuria hesitated, glancing at him shyly before picking up her fork. The first bite left her speechless, her eyes widening as she savored the explosion of flavors.

Forreal sighed, slurping her instant noodles. "Unbelievable."

Surreal sat down at the table, folding his hands neatly as he watched Yuria eat with glee. The woman's cheeks turned redder with each bite, her admiration for him practically radiating from her.

As the evening wore on, Forreal couldn't shake the feeling that something unspoken lingered between Surreal and Yuria, even before their eventual union. 

And yet, for now, she simply ate her ramen in silence, the warmth of the apartment a strange contrast to the chaos that loomed just beyond their reality.