Chapter 1: Chapter 1 Welcome of the Darth
Is Achieving Important?
When there is no one to feed you or offer you shelter, when you are parentless, without friends, and constantly surrounded by undisguised disgust, you grow weary.
This weariness is worse than ever having those people to begin with, but better than those who promised they would always be there for you. But when you never even received such promises, you grasp whatever comes near you. You embrace it until you see the dagger of betrayed secrets struck in your chest. Never realizing that this vulnerable warmth leaves behind an even colder and more brittle heart. All that remains is a shell, an empty shell.
We are creatures of comparison. Orphans don't feel sadness until they see the warmth of someone else's family.
But when your body is already cold, more coldness is never the problem; it's the sudden warmth that is.
Now that I'm alone in this world with everyone gone, my routine revolves around getting up at four in the morning in this tin and plastic house, which a handful of bricks barely keep together. I prepare my breakfast and lunch, take a bath in a common bathroom, which was made by pooling money from people like us. It's the only thing that is the best, the most secure. Funny, I know. For you, maybe, but not for me.
This neighborhood isn't that big. We are the dregs of society. It's worse than living in slums. The difference? They have a family to at least live for, even if they don't have enough luck. People like me are the ones left behind. To simplify, we didn't try hard enough to get out of this swamp, we had no hope.
That's what our experiences have made us believe. We are not good enough to even see the light. So, we do the dirty work for the wealthy ones, the nobles. After all, our existence is the easiest to erase. We have no one to meet or live for, no contact whatsoever. We are the endangered species that no one would ask or care about.
To give better insight, we are a handful of people, and the only way for us to get out of this predicament is either doing menial labor and continuing to live here until we die or to do the dirty work for the wealthy ones which includes killing people, extortion, rape, blackmail - basically every disgusting thing that you can think of, we get it done.
There's an unspoken rule here: once you start taking up this kind of work, you don't have a choice. If you are tasked with killing an infant or raping a pregnant woman, you HAVE to do it. Either you kill or get killed. Simple.
What's ironic is that the people here are more starved for recognition than the luxury of living. We are the neglected kind. Our humanity is only reserved for those who show us warmth. It's not like we don't try to go against such things; we do, our best, but the resistance doesn't last long, and by the time you and I realize what we're doing, we have already lost our sanity. Some of the smarter ones decide to commit suicide. The barely living ones continue to do as they're told, and the complete fools try to bring the reality to the surface, only to end up DEAD. Do they think serving justice is as easy as eating instant noodles? Foolish.
Well, if you must be curious about me, what do I do? Which of the worm-like classes do I belong to? Have I started killing already or am I surviving through menial labor? "Stan!" a shout. "What?!" I reply. "Check your damn contact ring; it keeps ringing, disturbing the rest of us. Do you want to die?" "I'll pick it up now. Damn, who's calling so early in the morning?" The other side shouts, "You haven't even saved the name of your employer, huh? Fuck, I've been trying to reach you for the past hour. Reach the goddamn port an hour early; the amount of deliveries has increased." The call cuts off. "Argh, fuck, gotta hurry."
The fact is, I can easily get out of this cycle. I have my previous life memories to help with it. But the idiotic real owner of this body, once a dirty worker for the wealthy, and yes, to make it worse, the one who tried to tell the truth, only to end up dead, now a cripple from a car "accident." Well, I took over the body, and until now, I've acted as if I don't have any memory of that period, so that they don't try to kill me again. Well, that's obviously not the only reason. As I didn't die in their first attempt, I ended up in the news. So, I became a person with recognition and documents. A government-recognized person is a little harder to kill, but my act of forgetting helped my case. They kept surveillance over me for a couple of months, but I did my best to act according to the set act. And now, here I am, running for my menial job.
What I have realized is that I want to get out of this cycle, but it won't be easy. I would need enough power to destroy them, enough people with me. That is something that's going to take time. A weird world it is, with nobles, relics with power, but not things which people like us can afford, not even in our dreams. This world is old, with an old system, but some technology is far and beyond, like the contact ring, its equivalent to a phone, but with this, one can only call. And you can contact only a few people; one can't buy it unless someone with authority buys it for you. That's why even the people in the normal slums don't have it, not everyone. It's honestly nothing special for me; this is nothing compared to what I used to have in my previous world, a smartphone. Well, better than nothing. The original owner of this body was useless, neither never did he work hard enough when he was growing up, so in return, his own people left him, nor did he have enough brains to at least not fall into this gutter. My sole plan for now it's to get out of this place.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone