A gloomy sky hung over the entire city. People drifted through the streets, and a sharp, choking stench spread through the air.
They moved numbly through alleys and avenues, no one speaking. There were plenty of people, yet the silence was unnerving.
"Ahem!"
Naohara slipped through the crowd. The dilapidated streets were strewn with garbage, and the foul-smelling smog constantly assaulted his senses.
His gaunt body and bloodless face made it look as though he could collapse at any moment. That sort of thing happened every day.
Holding tightly to the monthly limited-time half-price bento he had fought to get from the supermarket, Naohara quickened his pace.
The smog relentlessly gnawed at his body. He needed to get home as soon as possible. After pushing through the densely packed streets, a rundown apartment building came into view. That was his destination.
He hurried to the entrance, then turned to glance at the door next to his. It belonged to his neighbor, one of the few friends he had. He knocked lightly a few times, but there was no response.
"Working overtime again?"
After waiting a moment with no answer, Naohara let out a sigh and returned to his own room. It seemed his neighbor had been wrung dry and kept late once again.
The room was bare and simple: a bed, a toilet, and a conspicuous helmet. There was nothing else inside, aside from a shared washing machine outside.
There was no kitchen. For someone like him who worked insane overtime hours, a kitchen was basically pointless. To save on rent, he had deliberately chosen this apartment.
"Huff."
Naohara took a deep breath. The air inside still carried a faint odor, but it was far better than outside. At least it didn't make him lightheaded.
"Hope I didn't make the wrong bet. Otherwise, I really won't have a way out."
He sighed as he carefully washed the exposed parts of his body.
The outside air was saturated with toxic gases and dust. Long-term exposure would cause severe harm. To avoid collapsing one day for no clear reason, he had to clean himself off as soon as he got back.
He could have bought a gas mask, but he hadn't.
All the money he earned from endless overtime went straight into a game called "Yggdrasil," leaving behind only the bare minimum needed to stay alive.
Thankfully, his workplace was equipped with air purifiers. Aside from the discomfort during his commute to and from work, he managed to get by without major issues.
Sitting on the bed, Naohara slowly opened the monthly limited omnivore bento. He ate his hard-earned dinner one bite at a time, a faint smile appearing on his face.
The taste wasn't great, but compared to nutrient paste, moments like this were the only times he truly felt alive.
This world wasn't the apocalypse, yet it felt no different.
The thought might sound contradictory, but it was the most honest conclusion he had reached over the years.
The world had been polluted. With the outbreak of war, humanity finally received its retribution. The air reeked, rivers turned murky, and the land grew barren…
When people finally looked back, they realized nothing could be changed anymore.
Even taking a single breath of fresh air had become a luxury.
War had lost its meaning. No hatred mattered more than survival.
Green vanished from the world as plants disappeared. Animals died in massive numbers due to the environment. Prices soared, and crime became rampant…
Those lofty elites continued to squeeze everything they could out of ordinary people.
They understood one thing very well: the balance had to be maintained.
While endlessly selling people an illusory future, they also kept hammering a so-called reality called numbness into their minds. By the time people finally noticed, it was already too late. In their despair, they had grown used to it.
No desire to resist. No desire to think. Days simply passed like this.
Naohara ate the cold bento in his hands while staring at the calendar hanging on the wall.
Many dates were circled and marked in red. They were all schedules for in-game events.
The date the day after tomorrow, however, was slashed with a huge X, emphasizing its importance.
It had been twenty-eight years since he came to this world. Memories of his previous life had long since blurred. He didn't know why he had crossed over, only that he had been playing a game from some developer, cursed the planners a few times, and then lost consciousness.
When he woke up again, he had become an infant, abandoned in an alley and left to fend for himself. Fortunately, driven by sheer survival instinct, he cried nonstop, drawing attention and narrowly avoiding the "death upon transmigration" ending.
The person who adopted him was a middle-aged man. Years later, after Naohara grew up and asked about it, he learned the truth. The man's wife had cheated on him. When he came home that day, he found the two of them on his bed, shamelessly fooling around. They noticed his return, but instead of hiding, they seemed even more excited.
The other man didn't even take him seriously. After everything was over, he casually tossed him a card and left with his wife. The woman never looked back at him once. Maybe she was too embarrassed to face him, or maybe she simply couldn't be bothered.
He never raised a hand, only stared numbly at their retreating figures. A few years earlier, he might have exploded in rage, cursed them for their lack of shame, and lashed out. But now, that impulse was gone.
When he checked the balance on the card, he even felt a faint sense of relief. Perhaps it was because they knew he wouldn't fight back that they dared to act so recklessly.
That night, in an alley filled with a nauseating stench, the man staggered along, clutching a can of beer and pouring it into his mouth as he walked aimlessly, his heart tangled with complicated emotions. It was Naohara's cry that finally caught his attention.
He swayed closer and looked at the abandoned baby before him. A feeling of shared misery welled up from the bottom of his heart.
"Were you abandoned too, just like me? Don't be afraid. I'll take you home."
As if he had found someone of the same kind, the man tossed aside the beer can and shakily picked up the child.
Looking at the baby in his arms, smiling faintly and staring at him with wide eyes, all the turmoil in his heart seemed to fade away. Even his haggard face couldn't help but soften into a smile.
On the very first day after crossing over, under fate's gaze, Naohara was adopted. The man's name was Yasuo Kamiotoshi, and so he gave the child the name Naohara Kamiotoshi.
As if he had found hope and purpose in life, Yasuo Kamiotoshi changed completely, throwing himself into work with renewed determination.
From then on, he wasn't living just for himself anymore. And in that atmosphere, time quietly slipped by. In the blink of an eye, more than ten years passed.
When Naohara was twelve years old, Yasuo Kamiotoshi passed away. Years of nonstop work and overtime had pushed his body past its limits.
He had money, but he refused to use it. Even now, Naohara still remembered the gentle smile on his face back then.
"Naohara, my life has been nothing but a tragedy. My wife's betrayal, society's exploitation, the mockery of relatives and friends. I've experienced it all. But the only thing that ever made me feel truly alive was you. The best decision I ever made in my life was adopting you."
"Don't be sad or grieve for me. I have no regrets. I've kept this card my entire life. If you spend the money carefully, it should be enough for you to live without worry for the rest of your days. Now I'm giving it to you. Naohara, my child, live happily."
As those scenes replayed in his mind, Naohara's expression grew complicated. There was no doubt about it. He had been a qualified father, taking care of him wholeheartedly for over ten years, even setting aside his pride in the end to hand over the card.
"Father, I will live well!"