Chapter 2: The Weight of a Promise.
Knock Knock.
Garfield's head turned towards the door when he heard a series of knocks coming from it.
With a thought, he dispelled the Shadow Clone and approached the door.
The brass doorknob twisted with a click, and the door began to creak open, revealing a sliver of the brightly lit hallway beyond.
Garfield's pupils constricted at the sight as he lunged forward, his weight throwing itself against the wood.
How could he possibly stand by and allow anyone to enter and witness this bloody scene?
He grabbed the handle and shoved the door closed with a forceful bang that echoed through the upper floor of the house. A sharp, muffled cry of pain erupted from the other side, followed immediately by the sound of someone stumbling back.
"Ow! Hey, what was that for?!" The voice was high-pitched and vibrating with indignant pain, and Garfield immediately recognized it from the memories now etched into his brain.
It belonged to Elizabeth, his younger sister, who was a striking contrast to his own appearance.
While the memories described the original Garfield as an average-looking young man with unremarkable black hair, Elizabeth was a genuine beauty with flowing blonde hair and a fiery temperament to match.
She was the middle child of the Greyfield household, and usually, she was the one who kept the domestic gears turning while their mother was away.
"Did no one ever teach you that it's wrong to barge into another's room unannounced?" Garfield asked, his voice strained as he kept his shoulder pressed firmly against the door.
He didn't dare move, his body acting as a human barricade while his eyes darted frantically around the room. He looked at the bed, where the sheets were ruined by a dark, blooming stain of red, and then down at his own shirt, which was stiffening as the blood dried.
If she had managed to push that door open just a few inches further, the sight would have scarred her for life, and he would have had absolutely no way to explain why he was standing in the middle of a suicide scene without a single wound on his body.
Lying that it was fake blood was completely out of the question. The blood was simply to much, not to mention the resemblance to real blood was far to canning..
"What is it you want anyway?" he added, trying to inject a note of brotherly annoyance into his tone to mask the tremor of his nerves.
On the other side of the wood, Elizabeth's eyes twitched with a mixture of anger and confusion.
She stood in the hallway, nursing her shoulder where the door had clipped her, feeling a surge of resentment toward her older brother.
To her, he had just slammed the door in her face with a level of rudeness he had never shown before, and he didn't even have the decency to offer a quick apology for nearly breaking her arm.
"Hmph!" she scoffed loudly, the sound carrying clearly through the thin paneling.
Rather than wasting her breath on a brother who seemed to be acting like a total jerk, she turned on her heel and stomped away.
' She actually left that easily?'
Garfield remained frozen, his ear pressed against the wood as he tracked the fading thud of her footsteps descending the stairs.
He waited for another full minute, ensuring the coast was entirely clear before he finally allowed his muscles to relax.
He let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding, his gaze falling back to the grisly mess surrounding him.
"First things first, I need to change out of these things," he muttered to himself.
He then began to move, stripping off the ruined clothes and whipping down the stubborn stains from his skin with a basin of water.
Fortunately , he had a can of water within his room so he didn't need to go out to get some.
Shortly after, he had managed to pull on a clean pair of trousers and a simple shirt, feeling a small sense of normalcy return.
He moved to the bed, gingerly stripping the blood-soaked sheets and rolling them into a tight, compact bundle.
Garfield then tossed the bundle into the bottom of his laundry basket, burying it beneath a layer of other clothes. He wasn't particularly worried about anyone discovering them; the original owner of this body had been a fiercely private person who insisted on doing all his own chores and laundry.
It was a habit born of a desire to not be a burden, a trait that was profoundly pitiful when Garfield considered that this same self-reliance had led the 20 year old young man to conclude that death was his only remaining option.
Once the room was tidied as best as it could be, he made his way downstairs. The air in the lower level of the house smelled of simple cooking, which was far more refreshing than the metallic scent he had just left behind.
Upon arriving in the dining area, he saw Elizabeth and his younger brother, Alex, already seated at the table. Alex was the youngest, still carrying a bit of childhood innocence in his features, though it was currently masked by a look of concern. Both siblings were picking at their breakfast, the atmosphere heavy and awkward.
"What took you so long? Didn't Eli go upstairs to get you?" Alex asked, raising a skeptical brow as he looked up at his older brother.
As if on cue, Elizabeth let out another sharp scoff, pointedly looking away and refusing to even acknowledge Garfield's presence.
She continued to eat her food, looking a bit aggressive, her silence speaking volumes about her lingering irritation.
" I had a few things to take care of, sorry for keeping you both waiting."
He took his seat at the head of the table where his portion had already been set out, and without a word, he began to eat.
' This really isn't half bad, if I didn't know any better, I would've thought she inherited mom's cooking skills.' He briefly glanced at Eli from the corner of his eyes.
While he technically hadn't tasted their mother's cooking, he still couldn't help complementing his sisters cooking this much, of course he had no intention of feeding her ego by telling her outright.
The absence of their mother at the table was a void that couldn't be ignored; she was currently confined to a hospital bed, receiving treatment for a chronic illness that drained the family's resources as quickly as it drained her strength.
In her absence, the weight of the world had fallen onto the children. The rent and basic necessities were being covered by the dwindling inheritance their father had left behind before his mysterious disappearance several years ago.
The man had vanished without a trace, leaving no note nor explanation about his current whereabouts, a trauma that had forced the original Garfield into the role of the provider before he was ever truly ready for it.
As the meal progressed, the silence became almost unbearable. Garfield noticed that both Elizabeth and Alex would steal occasional, hesitant glances in his direction.
Their lips would part as if they were on the verge of speaking, only for them to shut their mouths and return to their plates.
He was smart enough to realize what was happening; they were clearly conflicted and terrified of how to bring up the topic of his failed awakening.
In this world, failing to become a combatant was often seen as a death sentence for one's social and financial future. The fact that they were being so sensitive, choosing to stay silent rather than risk hurting his feelings, showed Garfield just how much they truly cared for their brother.
"Big brother... About the..." Alex finally started, his voice cracking slightly as the pressure of the unspoken topic finally became too much for him to bear.
"It's alright," Garfield interrupted gently, looking up from his plate with a calm expression. "Just because I failed to awaken as a combatant doesn't mean much, really. The world doesn't end just because one door closes."
" I still have my job at the shop remember? Even if the shop hasn't been doing great lately, That doesn't mean the both of you need to worry this much." The shop in question was nothing but their families hardware shop which was created by their father before his departure.
"That... But?" Alex stammered, his eyes wide with surprise at his brother's nonchalance.
"Y-You're not thinking of going into the army, are you?" Elizabeth finally spoke up, her anger momentarily forgotten. She leaned forward, her hands clenched into small fists beside her plate, her face pale with a sudden, sharp worry.
In their society, those who failed to awaken were often funneled into the regular military as "fodder," a path that rarely saw anyone return home.
While the shop was feasible, It wouldn't be enough for all of them to continue living off of in the long run, that they were all painfully aware.
Garfield let out a soft, genuine laugh, a sound that seemed to lighten the room's heavy atmosphere.
"Do I look that ready to die to you?" he asked, a light, reassuring smile playing on his lips. "Would you both stop worrying and just eat? Your big brother isn't going anywhere."
" This little setback isn't going to change anything, I promise. Everything is going to be alright." He reached out and ruffled Alex's hair, then gave Elizabeth a supportive nod.
"Now hurry up and finish. You're both going to be late for school at this rate, and I won't have you blaming your tardiness on me."
The two younger siblings remained silent for a heartbeat, searching his face for any sign of the depression that had gripped him only the day before.
Finding only a steady, confident gaze, they eventually relaxed, nodding slowly before finishing their breakfast with a renewed appetite.
Once the meal was over, Garfield fell into the routine he had inherited from his predecessor's memories, helping them gather their books and bags.
He personally walked them to the front door, seeing them out with a wave as they headed toward the bus stop.
As the door clicked shut and the house returned to its quiet state, Garfield let out a long, weary sigh.
The facade of the confident older brother was taxing, but it was necessary for their peace of mind.
' Status Window.'
He leaned against the doorframe and called out in his mind, and the familiar blue interface shimmered into existence before him.
[Status Window]
* Name: Garfield Greyfield
* Class: Fisherman, Ninja
* Level: 0 EXP: [0/10]
* Mana: 10/10
* STR: 1
* AGT: 2
* INT: 1
* DEX: 1
* VIT: 1
* Skills: Ninja Art (Shadow Clone), Ninja Arts (Silent Steps)
He stared at the pathetic numbers for a moment, the cold reality of his weakness staring back at him.
"Right now, my stats are far too weak to keep such a high-stakes promise," he whispered to the empty hallway.
His voice trailed off as he reached into his pocket, his fingers brushing against a cold, plastic surface.
He pulled out a small object that looked strikingly similar to a standard ID card, but the intricate, glowing etchings on its surface identified it as a Class Card, the physical manifestation of a person's potential in this world.
"But..." He looked at the card, then back at the system window that promised a path to growth that no one else in this world possessed.
A slow, determined smile began to spread across his face, his lips curling up ever so slightly with a hint of newfound ambition.
"Given enough time, I should be able to do far more than keep a mere promise. I'll make sure this family never has to worry again." He said to himself before placing the card back into his pocket then stepped inside and closed the door.
Before heading out, he returned to his room then grabbed his bloodstained sheets and clothes before thoroughly washing them. Then he proceeded to do his morning chores, which was tidying up the house, making his siblings beds and so on.
Once done, he gave a content nod, only then did he leave the house.