Tres sat on the bench outside in the park, watching others. He could see all the parents playing with their children, and couples on dates enjoying their time together.
Tres could only watch. He was trash after all—no, genuinely, he was trash. After all, his legal name was Trash Ivam.
"Fuck you, Dad…"
"All my life, I was antisocial… Sure, that's on me." Tres grabbed his hair. "But why the fuck did you name me Trash!"
He remembered it all: the teachers looking at his name and always trying not to laugh, his classmates constantly making fun of him, and even struggling to get a job—he couldn't even get one because people thought he was part of some social experiment.
Tres stood up and looked once more at all the happy people. It pissed him off. He shoved his hands into his pockets and started walking home. That was what he did daily, go outside the house at least once a day so he could feel the self-satisfaction of not being a shut-in—though he very much was. He visited the park in front of his apartment daily, for five minutes at most.
He entered the elevator and pressed the button for the fifth floor. As the elevator rose, Tres sighed.
"My dad left me this shit-ass apartment… the only thing he gave me before dying. Glad he died. He never even told me about my mom."
He remembered his father's unserious expression saying, "Oh, your mother? She left us when you were 2 years old. So well, I got full rights. Did you know she tried to take our lovely home? But your cool dad won the case. So thank me, Trash."
Tres banged his head against the elevator wall.
"Stop thinking about that sorry old man…"
The elevator halted on the fifth floor. He stepped out and walked toward his apartment. There it was, 501, the apartment his dad had left him. As he pulled out his key, he noticed the door beside his—502. In front of 502, there were a few boxes.
"Is someone moving in?" He ignored it and unlocked his door.
His apartment was clean—he kept it that way. Why? Because he hated his dad.
He had vowed never to be like him. His dad was a popular, extroverted guy who had zero sense of keeping a house clean.
"Yeah… I'll keep the house clean. And… okay, maybe the extrovert part isn't something I hate. I wanted friends like him, but I couldn't because of my shy personality and MY NAME!"
He kicked the wall as hard as he could, immediately bending over and grabbing his leg. "That hurts…"
The TV was always on. The news was currently talking about the newly returnee Jacob Colescrew.
"Oh yeah… that too… I wasn't lucky in that either." Tres looked at the TV.
In the year 2026, many people from Earth had disappeared without explanation. No one knew where they went.
It remained a closed case until 2030, when all of the vanished people reappeared—from portals to different worlds. Returnees—those who were teleported in 2026 and came back in 2030. They had travelled to different worlds: some apocalyptic, some fantasy, some murim. When they returned, their powers were halved, but they were still strong—strong enough to change the world with the knowledge and abilities they brought back.
But of course, Tres wasn't lucky enough to be one of them. He sank into the sofa.
Guilds were formed around different worlds. It sounded like a novel plot, but it was the simplest way to explain it: the Murim Guild, Fantasy Guild, Apocalyptic Guild, and countless others.
The world was now run by returnees and their guilds.
And the portals they returned from remained. Returnees could now use them to travel freely between worlds, and take others with them. Yes, they could take normal Earth people.
"Breaking news: Jacob Colescrew has announced that he will be taking 10 people through the portal to the fantasy world, if they sign up for the lottery with a fee of only 10,000 euros."
"Ten thousand, yeah… I'm never going to be able to buy the lottery…"
The reporter continued: "Everyone, this is your only time to get a system. That's right—entering the portal grants you the swordsman system, the system Jacob Colescrew ha—"
Tres turned off the TV.
"Getting the swordsman system, huh? I can't afford that…"
Returnees possessed systems—unique systems suited to the world they were sent to: mage systems for magical worlds, swordsman systems for sword-based worlds, and so on. People who entered a portal could gain a system of that world and gain support from the guild associated with it.
He sank deeper into the sofa, staring at the ceiling with a deadpan expression.
Tres forced himself up, slapping his cheeks. "Why am I getting depressed? I'll just go play games…"
He entered his room and sat at his chair. One unread notification?
"Woah?! Someone sent me a message? Heh, I guess I'm slowly getting friends, huh? Who could it be? That guy I was getting carried by? No, it must be that girl who asked me for that rare item… yeah, she must have finally thought about how cool I am. I was thinking she scammed me but of course she di—"
Notification:
You are so close! Earn your 800-day streak achievement by contributing to your favourite communities.
"Oh… yeah… right. Who the hell would message me…"
Tres stood up and walked toward his bed.
"I'll sleep…"
Just as Tres was about to fall onto his bed, a blue screen appeared before him.
---
CONGRATULATIONS! YOU HAVE BEEN CHOSEN TO GO TO ANOTHER WORLD!!!
YOU WILL BE TELEPORTED IN 30 SECONDS
---
Tres' eyes widened.
N-no way… His lips curled into a smile. "Is this fake…? No way—THIS IS REAL!! FINALLY, I WAS CHOSEN AS A RETURNEE! THE SYSTEM RECOGNISED ME AFTER ALL!"
Each year, portals increased as new people continued to vanish and were assumed to travel to other worlds. Tres would finally become one of them.
He jumped around, grabbing a couple of cup noodles and a kitchen knife. He stood there trembling with excitement.
5
4
3
2
1
The entire room flashed bright white. Tres closed his eyes.
"That's it. MY TURN!!"
---
Teleportation successful.
---
Tres inhaled deeply, eyes still closed.
"Hmm… smells like… shampoo? And—"
He opened his eyes and saw his reflection.
"That's me?" He stared at the sink, his toothbrush, his toothpaste. He turned to see the familiar bathroom.
"This… is my bathroom, isn't it?"
"AHHHHGHHHH GODDAMMITTT WHY AM I IN MY BATHROOM?!"
He stormed out to his living room. The entire apartment was unchanged.
"I'M STILL ON EARTH!"
"No no no—did the transport fail?! No way, no way, NO WAYYY!" Tres panicked. "Ah, my system! My system must still be here!"
A blue screen appeared.
---
Transport successful.
Your world is: Earth.
---
"Earth…" He grabbed his hair and yanked it. "SERIOUSLY? THIS IS OF NO USE! I SWEAR TO GOD WHY ME WHY ME WHY MEEEE THIS STUPID SYSTEM!"
After 20 minutes of screaming and crying, Tres sat on his bed.
"Yeah… that's right. My luck is totally the worst, isn't it? I should just die at this point… No use living. I didn't even get to go to another world… I just came back to this world…"
He stood up and walked toward his door.
"That's right. I'll just end it."
He opened the door. Sunlight flooded in his eyes. A message appeared.
---
Congratulations on becoming a returnee without ever using your system.
This feat is considered impossible, yet you defied all odds, returning without using the system even once.
Condition: Look at the sky of your home world.
Reward: 1,000,000 points.
---
"Eh? Congratulations?" Tres stared blankly. "Without using the system? Do I even have a system?"
"Open system."
Another window appeared.
---
REPLICATION SYSTEM
Your system lets you copy anybody's system.
This is the worst system for a fantasy world since you basically get no powers.
Let's see you survive with it.
---
"That's… what?"
His mind overflowed with questions, but one thing was certain,
I am the only returnee to return in a single hour—by simply returning to my own world.