The morning after was a quiet morning. The adrenaline from the battle had long since faded, leaving behind the familiar, satisfying ache of a body pushed to its limits. Kenjiro finished his grueling morning workout, his mind a quiet hum of satisfaction. He was stronger. He could feel it, a subtle but undeniable shift in the very fiber of his being. The timeline was holding, his plans were progressing, and for the first time since his abrupt return to the past, he felt a flicker of genuine, unadulterated control.

He showered, the hot water a blessed relief on his sore muscles, and dressed, choosing his standard, almost uniform-like black shirt and purple skirt. The cosplay dress from the day before was a crumpled, forgotten heap in the corner of his room, a silent testament to a humiliation he had willingly endured for the greater good. He walked out of his suite, a new, specific mission in his mind, one that had nothing to do with quests or monsters or the fate of the world. He was going to deal with the giveaway date.

He had thought about it all through his workout. The idea of taking a random, fawning fan from his chat on a date was a logistical nightmare and a potential security risk. And besides, there was only one person he… tolerated… enough to even consider for such a thing. He found her in the guild's magnificent, sun-drenched library, a place she seemed to gravitate to in her moments of quiet repose. She was sitting with a small group of other elves, their long, elegant ears and ethereal beauty setting them apart from the guild's more boisterous human members. They were speaking in the soft, melodic tones of their native tongue, their conversation a gentle, flowing river of sound.

"Hey, Lyrielle," Bombom said, his voice a little louder than he intended, a rough, human stone dropped into the placid elven pond. "Can I talk with you?"

She looked up, and the moment her emerald eyes met his, a furious, uncontrollable blush exploded across her face. The other elves, seeing her reaction, let out a series of soft, tinkling giggles. "Go with him, Ly," one of them whispered, giving her a gentle, encouraging nudge.

The elves gracefully excused themselves, melting back into the towering stacks of books and leaving the two of them alone in the quiet, sunlit alcove. Lyrielle looked down at the floor, her long, fiery hair a curtain that hid her crimson face. "O-oh," she stammered, her voice a barely audible whisper. "Hey, B-bombom."

He took a deep breath. Direct. Be direct. "Okay, I'll be direct," he said, his voice firm. "We are having a date, right now, and I'll stream it. What do you think?"

The words hung in the air, heavy and final. Lyrielle's head snapped up, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock, terror, and a dawning, incredulous hope. "A-a-a date?" she stuttered, the word seeming to catch in her throat. Her blush, which had already been a spectacular shade of red, somehow intensified, a supernova of pure, unadulterated fluster. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and with a soft, delicate sigh, she fainted, collapsing gracefully onto a nearby plush sofa.

Bombom just stared. He looked at her unconscious form, then at his own hands, then back at her again. "Hmmm," he thought to himself, a frown creasing his brow. "Too much for her, I think. I'll ask her later." With a shrug, he turned and walked away, leaving the poor, overwhelmed elf to her sweet, romantic dreams.

His next stop was the alchemist's shop. He still had the memory of his brief, glorious return to his true form burned into his mind, a tantalizing taste of a power he was desperate to understand and control. He didn't bother knocking. He barged through the shimmering, distorted doorway, the familiar, acrid smell of strange chemicals and ozone filling his nostrils.

"Hey, you dummy!" he yelled, spotting the weird, contorted figure of Alistair hunched over a bubbling cauldron. "Get me one more of that strange potion that turns me into my true self."

The alchemist let out a high-pitched shriek, jumping nearly a foot in the air and spinning around, a wild, manic glee in his eyes. "O-oh, hey Bombom!" he stammered. "The ingredients for that particular concoction are... rare. Very rare. Sourced from creatures that exist in the spaces between realities. But," he added, rubbing his hands together with a greedy, scientific excitement, "I'll make sure to gather some. In the meantime, want to try your luck on your clothing stats?"

"No," Bombom said flatly, the memory of his disastrous first attempt still a fresh, irritating wound on his pride. "I have bad luck in that gambling stats."

The alchemist just shrugged, a disappointed look on his face. "A shame. Such a fascinating confluence of chaotic energies... Well," he said, perking up slightly, "just come by when you want to test your luck."

Bombom walked away, a new, frustrating dead end on his list of things to worry about. As he stepped back into the main guild hall, a familiar, sweet-smelling haze washed over him. He turned and bumped directly into a soft, leafy form. It was Flora.

Her powerful, mind-altering pheromones, which had once been an overwhelming, almost debilitating assault on his senses, were now… manageable. His legs still trembled slightly, and a familiar, embarrassing heat pooled in his gut, but the frantic, desperate edge was gone. He was just… slightly crazy.

"O-oh, sorry, Bombom!" she chirped, her voice a cheerful, musical sound. "It's so good to see you." She wrapped him in a warm, enthusiastic hug, her leafy hair tickling his nose.

"S-shouldn't you be outside?" he stammered, his face flushing. "Or in a full suit?"

She did a little, happy dance, her movements as fluid and graceful as a flower in the wind. "Don't worry," she said, a proud smile on her face. "I'm getting more used to this. The pheromones going into you will not make you go crazy, just slightly crazy."

Bombom sighed, a strange mixture of relief and disappointment washing over him. "O-oh, nice," he said, his voice a little shakier than he would have liked. "I-I wanted to get slightly crazy today."

She smiled, a genuine, radiant expression that was as beautiful and dangerous as a rare, exotic flower. She jumped on him again, her hug tighter this time. "I've missed you," she whispered, her voice full of a sincere, uncomplicated affection. "Our adventures together~"

He blushed, a hot, familiar wave of embarrassment washing over him. "H-heyyy, don't hug the celebrity," he stammered, gently pushing her away. "I have bodyguards."

She just laughed. "Alright, I'll let you be. I need to go now. I'm going on a mission with the team." She gave him a final, cheerful wave and then skipped away, a living, breathing embodiment of the wild, untamed beauty of nature.

Bombom sighed, a strange, lonely feeling settling in his chest. "I wanted to be out today," he muttered to the empty air.

A gnarled, nine-fingered hand clapped him on the shoulder, making him jump. It was 9fingers. "Just hold this for me," the old rogue grumbled, shoving a thick stack of official-looking documents into Bombom's hands before melting back into the shadows of the guild hall.

Kenjiro looked down at the papers. They were legal documents, arrest warrants, and a series of damning, albeit completely fabricated, witness statements. It was the official case file against Jairson for a string of high-profile thefts, including, but not limited to, the grand larceny of an entire city. According to the documents, he was to be arrested and jailed indefinitely. Bombom just sighed, a dark, cynical smirk on his face. "Alright," he thought to himself, a flicker of his old, brutish self surfacing. "He deserves that for stealing a whole city."

He collapsed onto a plush sofa in the main hall, the weight of the day—the fainted elf, the mad alchemist, the slightly-less-dangerous-but-still-very-dangerous plant mage, and the impending, unjust incarceration of his friend—settling on his weary shoulders. He was watching the news on the massive wall-mounted screen, a vapid report about the latest Lily fashion trends, when a new, bizarre figure entered his orbit.

He was a giant of a man, his muscles so large they seemed to have muscles of their own. He wore a garish, skin-tight superhero costume, all bright primary colors and ostentatious logos. He strode through the guild hall with an air of supreme, unshakeable confidence and stopped directly in front of Bombom.

"It is I, Super Alexander," he announced, his voice a deep, booming baritone that seemed to shake the very foundations of the guild. "And at the end of times, you must come and hold on to my arm, and you will not perish! For I will destroy every single demon in the world! The earth remains flat..." The man kept talking, a relentless, rambling monologue of bizarre conspiracy theories, self-aggrandizing prophecies, and pronouncements of his own, god-like power.

Bombom just stared, his face a mask of pure, unadulterated boredom. Just as his brain was about to liquefy from the sheer, overwhelming force of the man's nonsense, a small, exasperated-looking girl in a sensible pantsuit rushed over. "A-alright, Alex," she said, grabbing the giant man's arm. "Leave him alone. We need to go." She shot Bombom a quick, apologetic look and then dragged the still-ranting superhero away.

Kenjiro was left sitting there, completely and utterly confused. He pulled out his LilyPad and, on a whim, typed "Super Alexander" into the search bar. The results made his jaw drop.

The man wasn't just some crazy, muscle-bound conspiracy theorist. He was real. There were thousands of articles, news reports, and shaky, amateur videos documenting his exploits. There was footage of him saving children from a falling building in a distant city, lifting the entire structure with his bare hands. There were grainy satellite images of him single-handedly destroying a fleet of alien warships in orbit. There were ancient, historical accounts of him fighting alongside legendary heroes in forgotten wars against armies of demons. He was like the Superman from his old world, but he was real. And he was here.

Bombom stared at the screen, his mind a screaming vortex of pure, unadulterated shock. This world, which he thought he had finally begun to understand, was infinitely bigger, weirder, and more dangerous than he had ever imagined.

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