How to Survive as a Genius Spy in the Game 🏳️

Chapter 7 - Imperial Terrorist Denif (2)

Chapter 7 - Imperial Terrorist Denif (2)

The older kids, Rekun and Mohen, were 16 and 17 years old respectively. They only exchanged brief greetings and headed to the cafeteria first.

That was the end of the warm welcome.

Rekun smiled at me, but Mohen seemed a bit sharp.

There was something rigid about him, similar to Marhan.

Was it because of that?

From what I could gather, Mohen didn’t seem very close to the other kids my age.

It could be due to the age difference. When you were that age, you sometimes didn’t want to hang out with kids.

Denif seemed to notice my gaze and shrugged his shoulders.

“I get it, he’s on edge because he’s about to graduate. His personality is already shitty, so just try not to bother him.”

I didn’t bother asking him what graduation was. Maybe it meant leaving this place and becoming an official spy.

In the first place, the atmosphere surrounding the kids my age was different.

I was surprised by Denif’s rough way of speaking. He said we were the same age, so he should be around 13 years old.

I guess the imperial terrorists were different from the start?

“Yeah.”

Anyway, if someone with such a rough personality…

It would be better not to get involved with Mohen from my perspective.

As we headed towards the cafeteria, Denif led the conversation. That surprised me a little.

This infamous, or not yet infamous, future imperial terrorist had a surprisingly friendly side to him.

Was he this sociable? If I had to administer an MBTI test, he would definitely score high on the extroversion scale.

“Did you know? I was an orphan too.”

Whether he had heard about me in advance or not, Denif suddenly whispered to me.

I was slightly taken aback by his genuinely happy expression.

“…Really?”

“Yeah. How did you survive on the streets?”

“Just, you know, pickpocketing, begging, stealing food and stuff.”

“I did that too! Sometimes I got caught and beat up pretty bad, you know?”

“Is that so?”

“Have you ever had a broken bone?”

Had I been hit to the point of breaking bones?

Indeed, it was a good thing I was immediately run from the muscular guy. I recalled memories of Earth and answered.

“Here. My left arm was broken.”

“As I thought! Experiencing a broken bone confirms that you’re a true orphan.”

What did he mean by “true orphan”? The conversation had lost its context, and I couldn’t make sense of it.

Perhaps it was also due to that sense of familiarity as fellow orphans.

After that, I simply smiled lightly and played along.

Since I hadn’t personally experienced it, I talked a lot and found it a bit unfamiliar to interact with kids as an adult.

‘I’m tired because of the trait.’