Chapter 1 - All in a Day's Work

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It was noon. I was leaning against the back of a store in an alleyway when a sudden realization struck me: I was broke.

To survive in this world, I needed money.

It sounded silly when I said it out loud, but in my defense, I had only studied economics from books without ever seeing a single banknote or coin, making this fact of life quite profound.

Water, food, sanitation, hygiene, warmth, a means of communication, and shelter. These were the bare minimum requirements I had to satisfy, preferably in that order. Money would secure all of them. To start earning money, I would need to get employed or start a business.

Truthfully, these were not the average concerns of a twelve-year-old. Had my goal been a truly average life, I would currently be enrolling at a public junior high school, where most people my age were. However, that thought was quashed when I realized that I had finished learning the entire high school curriculum six years ago. Was the curriculum of the White Room fast-paced, or were the schools here slow? Who knows.

I wanted to explore society and learn everything there was to know about it. Relearning elementary topics for a few hours a day would restrict my ability to do so. Even if I went to school and the government paid for my living expenses, it would come at the cost of freedom, which was a dealbreaker.

However, one fact I could not refute was the social opportunities school enabled. Social skills were the most glaring omission in the curriculum I was taught, and while I had hoped to get better at interacting with others during my time in Tokyo, that could be saved for later. Perhaps in a few years, I could attend university, which offered the same opportunities to interact with peers while providing a higher degree of freedom.

Putting thoughts of the educational system aside, I was presently taking a break after six and a half hours of near-constant activity. Upon waking up at 5:30 AM, the same as in the White Room, I intensely exercised for an hour and a half to maintain my current body condition. Afterward, I bid farewell to the limousine and jogged into the Harajuku district of Tokyo, admiring the sunrise. I then spent several hours roaming the streets, taking in the sights.

Freedom was magnificent. When I was hungry, I could enter a restaurant or café anytime and order something. If I wanted to shop, I could visit a retailer at any time. Some streets were residential, where I could see various architectural styles I had studied in the real world.

But to fully enjoy the benefits of freedom, one needed sufficient wealth. Currently, I was free but poor, meaning I could only glance at the amenities offered. For now, I was content with admiring the beauty of Japan from afar. In time, I would ensure that I would walk alongside the others milling about this street as I understood society better and got richer. Whether I would walk as a human or a monster disguised as one, though, was yet to be seen.

As I contemplated going back to exploring Tokyo, an elderly lady plodded toward me with the aid of her walking cane, eyes full of pity. Since most people turned away when I glanced at them, I found this most unusual. Seeing such behavior hurt my nonexistent heart, but I also wondered why most people found me repulsive.

The woman looked freakishly similar to a picture of a typical grandmother from a White Room textbook. Upon reaching me, she gently smiled.

"Here, boy. You look hungry. Eat something," she said hoarsely, placing a 500 yen coin in the palm of my hand. Truth be told, I had not eaten since last evening. Free drinking water taps and public toilets were scattered across the city, but food required money. I could put this toward lunch today.

"Uh... thanks?" However, I was not sure how to react to this sudden windfall. Why was she giving up this elixir of life to me, a stranger? I did not possess enough knowledge yet to know how much 500 yen was worth, but that money could be put toward knee surgery to fix her walking disability. I understood it was an act of altruism, but there had to be a catch. Nobody would go out of their way to do something unless it benefited them. Had this woman gone senile? My mind could not comprehend that somebody would hand me money without any strings attached.

CotE: The Wandering Misfitحيث تعيش القصص. اكتشف الآن