(Quick note, I rewrote some of the earlier chapters. So if you see a ^ at the end of the title that means that the chapter has been updated.)
— — —
"…The contract has been sealed.
The world is not as it should be. It is filled with distortion, and "ruin" can no longer be avoided.
You are no Trickster. You are no Fool.
You are one who wears a mask, one who will create a false image of himself, and allow the world to welcome him and embrace him as someone who he is not.
You, who know not that you are not. You are now my actor, my Impostor.
Now, the stage is set. Wake up."
— — —
"Hm?" A young man with messy black hair stirred awake, his mind still foggy from the dream he'd been having.
That dream had felt real, more vivid than anything he'd experienced before, yet, frustratingly, it slipped through his fingers the moment he opened his eyes. It lingered on the edge of his thoughts like a half-remembered melody. He could almost grasp it. Almost. The only thing that remained was the faint echo of a woman's voice… though her words were already gone.
But the bigger question now was, where was he?
His gaze darted around. The low hum of an engine, the faint clatter of tracks beneath him… a train. He was sitting inside a train. The signs outside the windows flashed by in a language he didn't recognize, or rather, he realized after a second, one he did recognize. It was Japanese. And as the grogginess of sleep started to fade, memory began to return with it.
He remembered trouble.
A man, wealthy, arrogant, drunk, harassing a woman on the street. He'd stepped in, said something he shouldn't have, and then… everything had spiraled. His life, his reputation, gone overnight.
Except… that wasn't his life, was it?
His head throbbed as the thought passed. Everything felt disjointed, like fragments of two different realities colliding inside his skull. His body moved almost on instinct as he tried to make sense of it all.
He remembered dying. But that couldn't be right, he was alive now. He remembered another world, another name, and a voice, deep, echoing, calling out to him through the dark.
And now, here he was.
His eyes met his reflection in the train window. For a long moment, he stared. The face staring back wasn't his. The angles were wrong. The color of the eyes, the shape of the jaw, none of it matched.
This wasn't his face. This wasn't his body.
This wasn't him. He was… Well, he now was Ren Amamiya. As much as the thought felt wrong, he knew it to be true, that was his name.
And, even while he couldn't entirely understand what was happening, he felt himself let out a smile involuntarily.
"Guess it's the simple life for me now. No crime for me, no sir." He muttered with a chuckle, drawing a few strange looks his way.
Right, probation. Any slip-up, and he was back in juvie. Whatever had happened before, whatever this new life was, that much was clear. So he sank back into silence, letting muscle memory guide him as the train slowed to a stop. When the doors opened, he stepped out into the flow of the crowd, letting his feet carry him through the familiar yet alien city.
As he walked, he pulled out his phone to check the directions to the house he was supposed to stay in. That was when he noticed it, a strange app sitting on his home screen. An icon of an eyeball with a star-shaped pupil stared back at him.
"What the hell…?" He frowned.
The moment his thumb brushed the icon, the world froze.
Sound vanished. Time itself seemed to still. A sharp pulse of exhaustion hit him like a wave, and the edges of his vision blurred. In the distance, a flicker of blue light caught his eye, flames, cold and unnatural, burning in a place they shouldn't exist.
Through those flames, something watched him.
Then, just as suddenly, it was gone.
The world lurched back into motion. The noise of the crowd returned. Someone bumped into him hard, a businessman in a suit, muttering a quick apology before hurrying off. Ren blinked, glancing around, but there was no sign of the blue fire. No trace that anything had happened at all.
"Bummer." he muttered, rubbing his temple. Maybe he was still dreaming. Or maybe he'd finally lost it. Either way, he fell back into step with the crowd, blending in as best he could.
He'd hoped he wouldn't go crazy this early into his new life, but judging by how things were going… it was probably too late for that.
— — —
Since he was still lost as to what was happening, he decided it was best to follow Ren's schedule for now. That path eventually led him to a smaller, quieter part of the city called Yongen-Jaya. After a short detour through its narrow streets, he found himself standing before a small café tucked away behind a row of buildings. Apparently, this was where the man who had agreed to take him in worked.
The moment he stepped inside, the smell of freshly brewed coffee filled his senses. It was warm, familiar, and strangely comforting. Behind the counter stood a middle-aged man with slicked-back dark hair, glasses, and a neatly trimmed goatee. His movements were calm and practiced, each motion showing the kind of ease that only came from years of habit.
Ren approached the counter, waited for the man to finish serving a customer, and offered a polite bow along with a friendly smile.
"Good afternoon. Are you Mr. Sakura?" He asked, doing his best to sound approachable.
Body language was a big part of communication, and luckily for him, wearing a pleasant expression came naturally.
"I am," the man replied, giving him a quick look over before sighing. "You must be the kid I'm supposed to look after. I'm Sojiro Sakura. Honestly, I was wondering what kind of unruly kid they'd send me."
Ren scratched the back of his head, letting out an awkward chuckle that fit the image of a nervous teenager.
"My name's Ren Amamiya… and really, I appreciate you taking me in. The whole thing was just a misunderstanding, but, well… I guess no good deed goes unpunished." He tried to smile, though it came out a little strained.
Sojiro raised an eyebrow at him but didn't comment. Instead, he turned and motioned for Ren to follow.
"Come on, kid. I don't want to be gone too long if a customer shows up."
Ren followed him up a narrow set of stairs that led to a small attic above the café. The air was thick with dust, and bags of old coffee beans were scattered across the floor along with a few boxes and unused equipment. From the looks of it, Sojiro hadn't been up here in a while.
Ren forced his polite smile to stay in place as he took it all in.
"I left some blankets and a bed over there in the corner," Sojiro said, gesturing toward a small cot. "You'll have to clean this place up yourself. I heard the gist of your situation before I agreed to this, so I'm not going to ride you too hard. But if you get into any trouble, you're out. I'm not your babysitter, so keep your nose clean and don't do anything stupid. Got it?"
"Sounds like a plan." Ren nodded. "And… thanks again for taking me in. I know this probably isn't convenient."
Sojiro shook his head, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Don't go getting all sentimental on me, kid. I'm just doing this as a favor to a friend," he said, pulling a small notebook from his pocket and handing it to Ren. "I'm supposed to report how you're doing, but I don't have time for that. Just jot down the basics in here. Saves me the trouble."
As he started heading back down the stairs toward the café, he spoke once more, his tone casual but firm.
"Remember, if you get yourself into trouble, you're out. Jail's not a fun place, so I'd suggest staying far away from it."
Then, once he was left alone, the smile on Ren's face faded. Sojiro seemed like a decent enough guy, but the mess around him made his skin crawl. He could barely think with so much clutter pressing in from all sides. The air felt heavy, and the dust seemed to cling to every breath he took.
Without another word, he rolled up his sleeves and got to work.
Sojiro had left behind a few cleaning supplies, not much, but enough. It wasn't long before Ren found himself slipping into the rhythm of scrubbing, sweeping, and rearranging, letting the simple motions drown out the noise in his head.
But even while he cleaned, his thoughts kept circling the same questions.
He felt lost.
Right now, he was wearing the face of Ren Amamiya, acting like some polite, well-behaved kid, but deep down, he didn't even know who that really was. Was he supposed to live a normal life now? Was that the reason he was here? Or was this just some strange in-between, a dream that refused to end?
And that fire… those blue flames he had seen earlier. They had felt real, almost alive. He had checked his phone between cleaning breaks, opening the same strange app again. An icon shaped like an eye with a star for a pupil blinked back at him. It looked like some sort of navigation app, but every input led nowhere. No answers. Just static silence.
By the time he looked up again, hours had slipped by without him noticing. The attic looked completely different, clean, organized, almost livable. The sound of someone whistling from behind made him turn.
"Damn, kid," Sojiro said, leaning against the doorway with a surprised grin. "I heard a racket up here, but I wasn't expecting you to be cleaning. This place hasn't looked this good in years."
He glanced around the attic, clearly impressed.
"I'd forgotten how nice this room actually was. Gotta hand it to you, you've got some work ethic. I was about to close up shop, but you probably worked up an appetite, huh? Saved you a bowl of curry. Don't expect that to be a habit, though."
Ren offered him a friendly smile, the mask slipping easily back into place. "Thanks. Really."
After taking one last look at his newly cleaned room, he followed Sojiro downstairs. The man handed him a plate of curry before heading out with a casual wave, leaving Ren alone in the quiet café.
The curry was slightly cold, but the flavor surprised him. It was rich, full of spice and warmth, almost grounding in a way nothing else had been today. For the first time since waking up, he felt a sense of calm.
When he finished eating, he washed the dishes in silence. The exhaustion hit him soon after, sudden and heavy, like someone had flipped a switch inside him.
He still had a hundred thoughts swirling in his head, the feeling of being in someone else's skin, the faint echo of that woman's voice from his dream, but he forced them away.
Instead, he made his way upstairs, laid down on the freshly cleaned bed, and closed his eyes.
Maybe, just maybe, when he woke up, he'd finally understand what kind of dream this really was. But perhaps that was too much to ask.