Najin struggled in indecision, spurred forward only by his growling stomach. Every step he made was excruciatingly slow as he staggered to the end of the dilapidated alleyway.
The walls were suffocating, and his senses fed him with too many reasons why he shouldn't be staying there for long.
"Those cracks on the walls… the chance of a sudden earthquake triggering their collapse… I might've died if something so much as pushed those walls down."
How foolish of him.
Najin took another step forward, and upon feeling the weight on his toes, he frowned.
"These shoes need to be replaced. They fight too tightly, cramping up my toes."
There was a chance that his toe nails would dig into the skin of his other toes, killing him in the process.
He staggered again, dizzy from his thoughts. Barely keeping his breath steady, he pushed down the gnawing frost in gut and the tightness in his chest.
If he worried too much, he might die to a heart attack.
But he had to continue worrying.
—Whoosh!
Stepping out into the alleyway, Najin reeled at the sudden breeze. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a small piece of paper fluttering in the breeze.
He watched its trajectory, wary of getting cut.
But then, he was wrenched from his thoughts, forced to look around as his ears processed the rustling of armour and weapons. Hurried footsteps—leather upon stone in a rhythmic rush.
Najin hid back in his alleyway, feeling his heart rate spike from the stress.
A moment of silence fell upon him, and he began understanding the situation. Every sight, every sound, every scent.
From the snails crawling on a wooden windowsill of a two-story home.
To the weeds growing between the cracks of an abandoned building.
"Someone lives nearby," Najin surmised.
He recalled the faint tune he heard, floating in the wind. The house's location coincided with upwind.
His nose agreed with his ears. The scent of baked bread had wafted over.
People were making breakfast. The footsteps earlier must have been an early-rising adventurer.
Likely Level 1 from the superhuman pace.
Najin understood the situation, and now he had to proceed with the next step.
Prediction.
His eyes glazed over as he delved into his consciousness. What if he walked past the house? What if he chose the opposite direction and passed by the abandoned building? What were the chances of that adventurer being hostile? Will they react to his appearance?
Will someone in the house spot him from afar?
Countless situations crossed his mind as he pondered, training his mind.
When he was done, he made his prediction.
"Judging from the humming and the smell of bread, the kitchen must have a window facing the street. A weird architectural choice, but that's what should be correct."
Najin stepped out of his alleyway and walked past the home.
"If I pass by and look into the house, there's a good chance that the woman there would sense my gaze and look back at me,"
So, he snuck a peek as he walked by.
His gaze caught sight of a middle-aged woman wiping her utensils down after having used them for baking. The crackling of the fireplace now reached his ears.
Indeed, she was baking bread.
Najin then noticed the brick oven, and the mysterious lack of smoke above the house.
But then.
—Glance.
The middle-aged woman noticed him and their gazes met.
"..!"
Najin hurriedly pulled his gaze away, hurriedly locating a new place to understand what just happened.
"My predictions were barely right… The kitchen wasn't near the window, but the woman was. There was no kitchen window facing the street, and instead it was a half-opened door, where a young man was lingering, about to leave. The woman indeed noticed me staring."
—Growl.
Smelling the baking bread, Najin stomach reacted. It wanted food.
Why wasn't he giving it food?
Najin's mouth grew watery with desire.
But he shook it off.
"I still have a long way to go,"
He needed to absorb more details. Hindsight allowed him to realise that the scent of fresh bread did not originate from that house. It was still further away upwind. At a bakery on the next block.
No wonder it was so faint.
Furthermore, the crackling flames also originated from somewhere else—a house right beside the one he thought he knew like the back of his hand.
"How arrogant of me to assume,"
Najin was tempted to bite his lip, yet he refrained. Once again letting paranoia consume him, he resumed the observation of his surroundings as he walked carefully, taking everything in.
Walking with the best posture he could possibly have.
Moving with enough caution to react to flying objects that could come from anywhere.
Paying billions worth of attention to even the dust that would be fluffed up with each step he took.
Then, he continued to predict whenever he had mental space to spare.
He successfully predicted the gaze of a passerby, then another, and then another. They all glanced at him, likely spurred into attention by his own scrutinising glare.
But he made a mistake on the fourth.
And then the fifth.
"Makes sense," he remarked, moving into a more populated and less dilapidated area. People began ignoring him as they went about their own tasks, numbed by the frequent coming and going of the people.
Just like this, Najin continued to predict the simple, involuntary movements of the people within his line of sight. He also tried his best to locate—on the first try—the source of the sounds and scents that caressed his bubble of senses.
It didn't take long for his paranoia to grow into a rabid desire for information, as if his mind was successfully coping with its fears using the presence of knowledge.
—Swish.
Najin glared down a mischievous child who seemed to think they could mess with him. Those footsteps were too targeted, approaching him despite the crowd and his movements.
When he sped up, the child had done the same.
When he slowed down, the child's footsteps rushed forth. The child sensed an opportunity.
"Why am I even a target? To pickpocket? Or violence?"
Najin was pretty sure that he looked like a beggar. However, he had to reassess, given the child's peculiar behaviour.
His paranoia refused to continue without an answer, a prediction, and a plan of action.
Looking at himself, reflected on a window pane, he seemed to realise that the clothes he wore under his rags, although a bit dusty, seemed… exotic. They peaked out from the holes and tears of his trashy robe.
He noted how soft the fabric looked.
"….That does explain why my skin hasn't blistered."
It also looked like he was some naïve and wealthy teenager who was trying to hide their wealth and blend in—but it was clearly a halfhearted effort.
Still, this showed that he was a little lucky. His underwear especially, which he never thought about until now, was soft and comfortable.
"Sigh,"
Najin shook his head, adjusting his cloak of rags to hide as much of himself as possible.
Then, he began looking for the Guild. And with every step he took, he processed information, predicted, and acted accordingly. Observing the movements of the adventurers to deduce the location of his desired destination.
Just by walking around, he trained his brain to be alert at all times.
Even if he was slowly exhausting his mental stamina. Draining his brain of its ability to focus. Dizzying himself with all the predictions and plans. Straining his senses to absorb everything.
Fracturing his sanity to keep on going despite the headache that was slowly building up.
…But that was okay.
This was what he wanted.