A thin young man, no older than seventeen, stepped out of a convenience store, dressed in plain clothes wrinkled beyond care, their colors faded from repeated use and washing.
He stood around 1.70 meters tall, clearly fresh from work—the faint, fishy odor clinging to him, along with dark stains of dried blood on his shorts.
Mario walked along the street with his supplies in hand. One plastic bag held four batteries, nutrition pills, rice portioned into three small packs, and instant ramen—everything measured to last exactly three meals. In his other hand, a small gallon of water weighed against his wrist.
His eyes wandered as he made his way toward his destination.
The concrete beneath his feet was cracked in places but still relatively clean. Houses and apartment buildings lined the road—some freshly painted, others dulled and worn by years of sun and rain.
Streetlights flickered weakly before coming to life, casting a soft, warm glow as day slowly surrendered to dusk.
People passed him by—some returning home from work in quiet haste, others lingering along the roadside, trying to earn a little more before night fully settled.
As he reached the alley, someone bumped into him, forcing him to take a slight step back.
"I'm sorry…" the man said.
Mario shook his head, lowering his gaze. "No, sir—it was my fault."
They exchanged brief nods, each accepting the apology before moving on.
Mario slipped into the narrow alley. The air cooled instantly, carrying the damp scent of concrete and rust. At the far end, small houses stood pressed together—fragile, cheaply made, yet just enough to live in.
He entered the second house from the end.
He entered the second house from the end. Inside, dirt served as the floor, while rough wooden planks formed the walls. A creaking bamboo bed awaited him in the corner.
A worn table and a plastic chair leaned slightly to one side. On the table rested a bowl, a spoon, a cup, a battery-powered lamp, and two books. Beneath it stood several empty gallons.
Mario lowered himself onto the bed. It groaned under his weight as a familiar fatigue settled deep into his shoulders.
He sat there for a few minutes.
Growl~
He exhaled quietly, then reluctantly pushed himself up. He gathered a pack of ramen, a portion of rice, and the remaining charcoal, hanging the rest of his supplies out of reach of rats.
Outside, he arranged a few stones into a makeshift stand and rinsed the rice. Setting the pot in place, he fed charcoal beneath it and struck a match.
When the rice finished cooking, he poured it into his only bowl and prepared the ramen.
Once everything was ready, he ate in silence.
Afterward, he took a green pill from the bottle and swallowed it with a mouthful of water.
He cleaned his bowl, spoon, and pot, set them back on the table, then approached the wooden bed to grab a set of spare clothes.
Stepping outside, he paused before heading toward the public bathroom in the distance, pouring the used water onto the ground to douse the dying embers.
Upon arrival, he bought an unscented bar of soap from the vending machine at the side, costing a copper coin, before entering.
Inside, small bathroom stalls lined the narrow space. He knocked on each door until he found an empty one, then inserted two copper coins into the slot beside it to pay for the water.
Mario removed his worn clothes and hung them on the hook behind the door. He lathered his hair with the soap, noticing it had grown long enough to reach his nape.
Leaning forward to scoop water from the container, his gaze caught his reflection in its surface.
A black-haired youth with emerald eyes stared back—features that might have been handsome, if not for the freckles and pimples left by neglect.
After rinsing himself, he took down his worn clothes and washed them thoroughly.
Once finished, he changed into his spare set and headed back home.
Outside, he hung the wet clothes along the line to dry.
Mario entered the house. It was dimly lit; without the thin beams of light seeping through the holes in the roof, it would have been completely dark.
He took the four batteries from the plastic bag and walked to the table, sliding them into the lamp before picking up one of the two books.
Carrying both, he sat on the bed and carefully leaned back against the wall, mindful not to damage the fragile wood.
He hung the lamp above him, letting its faint glow settle over the room, then opened the book and began to read.
As his eyes moved across the pages, memories slowly surfaced in his mind.
It had been almost two years since he chose to leave the peaceful life of the orphanage and asked the director to introduce him to one of his friends for work after reaching the legal age of sixteen.
Over those two years, he had saved enough to buy cheap furniture and basic utensils, using the rest to ease the orphanage's burden.
After a while, he stood up, placed the book back on the table, then returned to the bed and lay down.
Staring at the holes in the roof, he muttered, "Later… I'll turn eighteen and finally receive my own proficiency panel."
At the age of eighteen, everyone would receive a holographic panel—one that allowed them to learn skills, improve their proficiency through practice, and eventually level them up.
As for its origin, he didn't know.
'…That should make work a little easier.'
Yawn~
Pulling the thin blanket over himself, he closed his eyes.
Slowly, he drifted into sleep.
...
Midnight.
A foreign chill mysteriously appeared below his navel area.
Feeling it, Mario unconsciously curled up, pulling the thin blanket tighter around himself.
But the chill didn't stay still—it moved, shifting across his body.
Instinctively, he awoke and immediately stood, flicking on the battery lamp. He checked himself carefully, then scanned his surroundings.
'…I hope it's just another rat… and not a snake.'
The chill moved again. That's when he realized—it wasn't external. It was inside him.
Relief washed over him as he sank back onto the bed. "Right… midnight already. This must be the chill that comes with receiving the proficiency panel."
He closed his eyes and focused, feeling the chill's path.
It began spinning slowly inside his heart.
'…What a strange feeling,' he thought.
The chill traveled upward, spiraling toward his brain. The cold sensation whirring inside his head made him frown and open his eyes.
Thankfully, it didn't linger. It descended, settling at the center of his chest.
There, it spun faster, gathering momentum before pushing deeper into him.
But it encounter a barrier.
It paused, then slammed against it.
Bang~
When the barrier was struck, Mario thought he heard a faint sound, followed by a spreading discomfort that sank deep into his body.
Unconsciously, he let out a cold breath.
Failing to pass the obstacle, the chill didn't give up. It slowly retreated, then spun rapidly, gathering force before slamming into the barrier once more.
Bang!
The discomfort deepened, layering exhaustion atop his already weary body.
The chill recoiled again, spun even faster, and rammed the barrier once more.
Bang!! Crack~
Then, slowly, the chill began to fade.
Mario thought he heard the faint shatter of glass, and a shape appeared in his vision.
A transparent box floated before him, but before he could focus, a wave of uncontrollable fatigue hit.
Bam!
He collapsed onto the wooden bed, which groaned loudly under the impact. Fortunately, his head landed on the pillow, sparing him from the hard surface below.