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A massive, tattooed hand reached out from the monitor, the skin smoking as it crossed into the third dimension. Fuuko didn't pull away. She reached out, her fingers trembling. The moment her skin brushed his, the "Unluck" sparked—not as a disaster, but as a bridge.

On page fifteen, Andy turned toward the "camera." He wasn't looking at the villain anymore. He was looking at her .

Fuuko’s breath hitched. She checked the URL: WeLoveManga . It was just a scanlation site. Just a digital ghost of a physical book. But the screen began to glow with a blinding, incandescent white. A massive, tattooed hand reached out from the

Fuuko Izumo stared at the flickering screen of her digital reader, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. Chapter 132. The title card bled crimson across the page:

Fuuko gripped the edges of her desk. Around her, the real world felt strangely thin. Outside her Tokyo apartment, the neon signs of Shinjuku buzzed with an electric hum that sounded suspiciously like the "Artifact" noises described in the manga. The moment her skin brushed his, the "Unluck"

In the story, Andy—the man who could not die—was grinning that jagged, reckless grin of his. He was standing at the edge of a collapsing reality, his skin peeling away into stardust only to knit back together in an instant. He was fighting God, or maybe he was fighting Fate, or maybe he was just fighting for one more second of Fuuko’s unlucky touch.

"Hey, Unluck," the speech bubble read. The Japanese kanji were shaky. "You still reading?" Fuuko’s breath hitched

The world did not end with a bang, nor a whimper, but with a cosmic "To Be Continued."