I can't afford to be jobless; who would pay the rent?
As I stepped out of my house, I ran into an old friend I hadn't spoken to in a long time. He owns a private company, and maybe—just maybe—he could hire me as an electrician. When I was little, my father taught me handyman skills, and I always excelled at electrical work. For some reason, as a child, it intrigued me much more than it scared me.
After a brief moment of catching up, I finally asked him if he was hiring.
Luckily, he was. I ended up working for him on my first day. Since we had worked together before, there wasn't much delay in the process—he trusted me, and I trusted him.
During lunch, we reminisced about our high school days and how things unfolded and spiraled. He shared the story of having his first child and then the heartbreak of his tragic divorce.
I consoled him and cracked a few jokes, and he chuckled in response.
Reminiscing about the old days felt great, and finally, the shift came to an end.
But the time had arrived I was about to be transported back to another world. I hadn't even shared this with my friend; he'd probably think I'd gone crazy.
I watched the window, its clock ticking away...
The lights in my room slowly dimmed, fading into shadows.
At last, the clock's hand struck 12 and froze, and I found myself back in the white-walled room.
A vivid vision filled my mind:
A young girl darted through the alleyways, people in black chasing her, shouting profanities.
She looked rugged, her clothes torn.
Soon, her small figure disappeared into the slums, losing her pursuers.
Her tiny frame shook with heavy breaths, her gray eyes with hazy blue irises scanning her surroundings. Her neck-length hair, greasy from lack proper bath, weirdly hung straight despite its condition.
With sharp features and a malnourished body, she resembled a wooden doll more than a living person.
Her brown skin glistened with sweat under the limited sunlight breaking through the foggy weather as she made her way to the center of the slum.
Suddenly, a hand emerged from the shadows of the dark, congested alleys of the slum, grabbing the little girl by the back of her neck. It pulled her toward him and twisted it, killing her instantly. Blood seeped onto the floor as he dragged her lifeless body out of the slum. When the sunlight hit his face, it revealed a visage full of scars, his eyes bloodshot, and his head devoid of hair, showing only the stitching of wounds—perhaps the aftermath of a gruesome battle that had split his skull open.
The vision faded from my eyes just as they arrived.
My sight shifted again, and I found myself lying on the alley floor, wounds covering my body. In front of me floated a glowing window displaying:
Mission: Ensure the Karitori Scroll reaches Mr. Meagirous.
Misc: Become a disciple of Mr. Meagirous.
Eligible for Reward.
Remaining lifespan: (0/9)
This window was little different, but the content said the same more or less.
I now knew what next to do, checkup the things I have on me, I found a scroll attached to my torso by a torn piece of garment.
I pulled it out to see its contents; it was filled with foreign symbols and esoteric language. Just looking at them made me feel like I was losing my mind. I quickly closed it and strapped it back near my torso.
Slowly, as the memories of this body jolted back into my mind, I planned to head toward the slum. Glancing around, I noticed people in the street searching for someone. They held a drawn picture in their hands—a scrawny little girl with neck-length hair and skin that seemed to cling to her skull.
It was picture of the body that I possessed. I quickly retreated into the shadows of a dark alley to hide.
If I wanted to reach the slum without being caught, I needed another way. I couldn't let myself be spotted.
I needed help, and there was a man in love with the owner of this body—a sick man, but a useful one.
I slowly made my way to his workplace at the wood chipping factory.
He stepped out for a smoke, and that's when I approached him.
Flustered and happy to see me, he eagerly listened as I asked him to help me with some good clothes, promising to marry him in return. He seemed absolutely delighted.
He seemed hesitant at first—having the girl he liked suddenly approach him might raise suspicion. Still, he didn't let that stop him from buying new clothes for me. He took his break early and helped me around the shop. I picked out clothes that could better conceal my face, like a veiled fascinator, along with darker outfits that wouldn't attract attention. He then took me to his apartment before heading back to work. Before leaving, he bought a packaged meal from a vendor for me and took just a bite himself before rushing off.
I cleaned myself up in his apartment, which had running water, and then changed into my new clothes. With the grease and dirt gone, the girl looked fairly pretty. If not for being malnourished, she might have been attractive enough to capture any man's attention.
Setting aside the useless thought once again.
I considered my next course of action.
The plan was to venture out and scout areas with less security near the slums, slowly mapping out a possible route. If no such path existed, I would wait it out, staying in this apartment for a while. When finally let their guards down, I would make my escape.
It was, above all, a battle of patience.
But there was one thing I hadn't realized at the time—it was far from over.
The enemy wasn't letting go.
It was more tenacious than I was, which meant whatever this scroll held was worth more to them than their own life.
And I was about to learn that the hard way.