When his vision cleared, Moon found himself standing in his apartment.

Before he could even process the familiar surroundings or feel relief at being home, movement exploded from his right.

A rapidly approaching small, snow-white fist came travelling towards him.

Moon's reflexes kicked in instantly. His hand shot up, catching the strike mid-motion, his fingers wrapping around a delicate wrist. The impact still resonated through his palm, making him blink in surprise.

That's a powerful attack, he thought, genuinely impressed. The technique was good, the speed was rapid. Whoever this was had training, real combat experience, and a high level.

Then his brain caught up with what his eyes were seeing.

The attacker was a woman. A beautiful woman with wet hair plastered to her shoulders, droplets of water still clinging to her skin. She was wearing nothing but a white towel wrapped around her curvaceous body, a towel that was clearly struggling to contain everything it had been assigned to cover.

"Who are you?" she demanded, trying to yank her wrist free from his grip. "How did you suddenly appear in my room?!"

Moon released her immediately, his gaze shifting upward in a deliberate show of courtesy. "I'm not an intruder. This is my apartment. What are you doing here?"

The woman didn't answer. Instead, she attacked again.

Her other hand came up in a palm strike aimed at his solar plexus. Yet another well-executed technique that confirmed formal martial arts training. Moon caught this attack as well, his enhanced agility making it trivial to intercept.

"Stop it, I'm not trying to hurt you," Moon said calmly, maintaining his grip but not applying pressure.

The defensive redirect caused her to lose balance. She stumbled forward with a small gasp, and her free hand, the one clutching the towel, instinctively reached out to catch herself.

The towel fell.

Moon registered the movement peripherally, his gaze already averted before his conscious mind fully processed what had happened. He released her wrists immediately and stepped back, putting distance between them.

"My apologies," he said evenly, keeping his eyes fixed on the wall. "That wasn't intentional."

"KYAAAA!" The woman's shriek was ear-splitting. "GET OUT!"

Moon heard the sound of the towel being hastily retrieved. He remained still, hands visible and non-threatening, gaze averted.

"GET OUT RIGHT NOW!"

"I understand your distress," Moon said, his voice calm despite the absurdity of the situation. "But I genuinely used to live here. This is unit 347. I've been away for several months and—"

"This is MY apartment!" The woman's voice carried fury and confusion. "I signed the lease two months ago! You just appeared out of thin air!"

The timeline clicked into place with cold clarity. He'd been gone for three months in the First Sanctuary. Three months without rent payments, without contact, without explanation.

A thought suddenly emerged, his landlord had evicted him and rented to someone new whilst he was away.

"I see," Moon said quietly, understanding flooding through him. "The lease lapsed while I was in the sanctuary."

All his belongings. His few possessions. The emergency savings hidden in his desk drawer were possibly gone.

"What are you talking about?" the woman demanded. He could hear rustling; she was getting dressed. "You need to leave before I call the Awakeners Association!"

"That won't be necessary," Moon replied. "I'm leaving, but before that, I need to ask you something. Did you see any money in the desk drawer?"

The woman looked confused for a moment. "What? No. Why would there be money in the desk drawer?"

'The landlord must've taken it. I need to talk to him soon."

"I used to live here. I had some leftover money in the drawer." Moon said.

"I don't care about your excuses! If I ever see you again, I'm reporting you!"

"Understood. Again, my apologies for the intrusion. It's just a misunderstanding."

He reached the door, opened it, and stepped into the hallway. The door slammed behind him immediately, followed by multiple locks engaging.

Moon stood in the corridor, processing the situation.

He was homeless.

He'd survived a hidden realm that had killed dozens of awakeners. Defeated a level twenty Winter Beast. Acquired Epic-rank skills that would make him legendary among his peers.

And he'd returned to find himself evicted and replaced.

Moon pulled out his phone, but it had a dead battery, as expected after three months. He had approximately five hundred dollars in Earth currency, the clothes on his back, and his battle-worn equipment that probably looked absurd in this mundane apartment building.

Legally, he'd probably been declared missing, so he had to go to the awakener's association to deal with his awakening, too.

He needed to charge his phone, contact the landlord about his belongings, and navigate whatever bureaucratic nightmare awaited someone who'd vanished for three months.

But those were solvable problems.

Annoying? Certainly.

Time-consuming? Absolutely.

Though next time he returned from the First Sanctuary, he'd definitely verify his living situation before using the portal home.

With a few hundred dollars left, Moon was able to secure himself a temporary room for the night.

He found a hotel a few kilometers away through word of mouth and headed there on foot, his battle-worn appearance drawing occasional stares from passersby that he ignored.

The establishment was exactly what he expected for the price range—run-down, questionable, the kind of place that didn't ask questions and accepted cash without requiring identification.

He paid the daily cost of two hundred and fifty dollars, which wasn't cheap considering the terrible accommodation. It was the most basic hotel room imaginable, barely large enough for the narrow bed and small table.

No private bathroom—just a shared facility down the hall. The walls were thin enough that he could hear conversations from neighboring rooms. The mattress sagged in the middle, and the single window looked out onto a brick wall.

But it had a door that locked and a bed.

That was enough.

Inside the room, Moon collapsed onto the mattress without bothering to remove his armor. His body had been operating on pure adrenaline and willpower for longer than he cared to calculate. The moment he stopped moving, exhaustion crashed over him.

Weeks of sleeping on frozen ground, in caves, huddled against the cold with one eye always open for threats.

The bed was lumpy and the room smelled faintly of mildew, but compared to what he'd endured, it felt like luxury.

Moon's eyes closed almost involuntarily. His mind tried to process everything: the apartment situation, his missing belongings, the bureaucratic nightmare awaiting him, but his body overruled all of it.

He needed some real good rest, not the shallow, alert half-sleep of the First Sanctuary, but actual sleep in a place where nothing was trying to actively kill him.

Within minutes, Moon was asleep, his breathing evening out as his tired body began the process of recovery. His last conscious thought was a vague awareness that he should charge his phone, should start making calls, should begin sorting out the disaster his life had become.

But that could wait until tomorrow. For now, he slept, and for the first time in a long time, he slept without nightmares of ice and death.

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