The moment he entered this world, the differences struck him immediately. From the unfamiliar starry sky, various wonders, and supernatural abilities, to the laws of the world, distorted morality, and the presence of other intelligent beings.

For example, in this world, everything revolved around the number 6. It was considered the lucky number, while 7 was considered the devil’s number.

This was yet another proof of how Big Brother’s actions were fundamentally at odds with the very nature and balance of this world.

But despite all that... was this world really completely disconnected from his past?

"Hmm?" Unusual sounds reached his ears, and he briefly veered off his intended path.

He was already approaching the central part of Southville, and the joyful buzz of life was growing noticeably quieter.

If you listened closely, from the open windows of houses, restaurants, or bars, you could hear whispers tinged with despair, or even... a dead, oppressive silence.

"..." Finally, he and the cat found the source of that unusual sound.

It was an elderly man with gray hair and shabby brown clothes. He was sitting right on the edge of the road, leaning against a wall, and slowly playing a somber melody.

He played the guitar with his head bowed. Without words.

"...Why don’t you sing, old man?" he asked quietly.

The man didn’t react at all, continuing to play slowly.

Mr. Nobody’s face grew increasingly somber along with the melody.

He stood there for about a minute, listening to the melody, and the cat listened silently alongside him.

Instead of speaking to the man again, he sat down across from him.

"..." Apparently, as if sensing him through the vibrations, the old man finally reacted. He raised his head and looked straight at him.

That simple action sparked terror in Mr. Nobody’s heart... because he saw the old man’s face.

Instead of eyes, he had only empty black sockets, and scars on his eyelids in the shape of a cross. It was unclear whether he had inflicted these wounds on himself or if someone else had done it for him.

He couldn’t see.

He couldn’t hear.

He couldn’t speak.

"..." The old man took one hand off the strings and pressed his index finger to his lips.

A gesture of silence. It seemed he couldn’t say more, for he had no tongue.

Mr. Nobody stood up, and the old man continued to play.

"See nothing, hear nothing, say nothing..." He glanced at what was on the wall behind the old man. "...Know nothing."

There was a familiar graffiti of Big Brother, his index finger pressed to his lips. Only in this case, it was crossed out with a large red cross.

But that did nothing to ease the sense of horror and helplessness it carried.

"..." With a heavy expression, Mr. Nobody left the old man and began looking around for somewhere to get paint.

...

"Meow. . ."

"Sorry, looks like you got a little on you, too." He brushed off the cat, whose fur had been splattered with a couple of drops of orange paint.

After spraying a couple of times from the black and orange spray cans, they headed toward the main building in town.

Men born before Big Brother — there was only one left among them: Schrödinger.

Then came those born during his arrival — the ones who witnessed everything change. A generation destined to lose. Though such people are usually unnoticed, they make up a huge part of Southville’s population.

And finally, those who were born when Big Brother came to be seen as the norm, as if he had always been there. These were the children, teenagers, and men no older than Mr. Nobody. They are the ones always in plain sight, experiencing the joys of life in the underground and often unaware of the full scale of what was truly going on above them.

Past generations had to pay a price no one should have had to pay. And although Mr. Nobody didn’t fully accept it... At least, you could see smiles on the children’s faces here.

"...But how long will this last?" he whispered, lifting his head.

A three-story building resembling an ancient cathedral came into view ahead. It was the tallest of all in the underground, and its peak cast a shadow from the sun all the way to the entrance.

It was the administration building.

A few swarthy men with blank expressions were entering it through the side doors or going into neighboring buildings, but no one was entering through the main entrance.

As he approached, he saw a dark-skinned man with glasses and a crew cut standing at the entrance. He was dressed in a black uniform that looked like a mix of military and formal styles. On his shoulder was the initial of a red star.

He stood with his hands clasped, appearing calm and composed.

"You know, I’ve always wanted to ask... Why does it never rain in this place?" he asked, standing opposite him.

"Is there a reason for it?" the man asked in a polite tone.

"As long as rain exists, there will always be people who want to stand in it."

"That’s an interesting point of view... Welcome, Mr. Nobody. Padre’s been expecting you." The man opened the door, inviting him inside.

"Hello to you too, Lucius..."

Sighing, he followed him inside.

...

The interior of the first floor looked like a hotel lobby at first glance, muted in tone.

Some people sat at desks, working in silence, inputting data into computers and information panels. Others were quietly conversing with someone via Neodecks, sending and receiving data packets. 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

"This way, please."

Following Lucius toward the elevator, he passed four men sitting around a table.

They were silently laying cards on the table, apparently gambling.

Most of the cards had already been played, indicating the end of the game, but one lay face up and stood out sharply.

"Ryskar— Red Lamb Version (Red-Eyed Stalker), 3 stars."

That was the name of the card, which depicted a monstrous predator.

Soon, one of the men covered it with another card, thereby securing victory.

"Karsum — Mountain Strider. 3.5 stars."

That was the name of the card depicting a massive mechanical monster resembling a moose, with long, sharp horns. He was well acquainted with this monster as well.

Seeing that this beast had won the match, Mr. Nobody couldn’t help but let out a dry chuckle.

’...Wouldn’t play out like that in real life.’

"Mr. Nobody?"

Shaking his head, he followed Lucius into the elevator that had opened.

...

"And how did you know it was me?" he asked when the doors closed. "Because of the cat?"

"...It’s hard not to recognize a man of your talents from a distance," Lucius replied, adjusting his glasses.

That phrasing made him smile wryly.

"A man of my talents... If I have any, they’re certainly not the kind worth being proud of."

"And yet they are still talents," Lucius replied with a polite smile.

A soft harp melody began to play, as the elevator began to rise.

"It seems your status has almost shifted from rising star of Southville to living legend. From what Mr. Schrödinger says, during the reign of the Iron Heart, the people looked up to figures like that. They were something like local symbols, just like..."

"Come on, Lucius," he exhaled with a weary smile. "Look up to me? That’s the worst thing anyone could do... Besides, what kind of living legend? At best, I’m just a bedtime horror story and fuel for kids’ arguments and games."

"Perhaps you only see it that way. But for those who live here, it’s foolish to deny the influence that rumors about your deeds have."

He raised his eyebrows in puzzlement and looked at him.

"What are you even getting at? Trying to flatter me...? And why the hell is this elevator taking so long?"

"What I’m saying is... You can’t just look at the dirty side of your actions." Lucius met his gaze. "When we pull out a weed, we only see the torn-up ground... But give it time, and look around, and you’ll see the flowers around it bloom brighter because of it. If we give it even more time—maybe, one day, a beautiful rose will grow in its place."

"..."

"..." The cat on his shoulder yawned deeply.

*Ding* The sound of the elevator arriving on the third floor rang out.

"Well... Thank you for your kind words, Lucius, but I’m not looking for excuses."

With those words, he stepped out of the elevator.

In the narrow hallway was a small red staircase equipped with a wheelchair ramp.

After climbing it, he and Lucius found themselves in front of a closed door, through which bright rays of sunlight were seeping.

"That’s your choice, Mr. Nobody. Perhaps that is exactly what sets you apart from the rest of us." He knocked and grabbed the doorknob. "But don’t expect others to live by the same principles... It will only cause you pain."

Those words stung his heart.

"Meow..." the cat called softly.

"It’s all right, kitty... I’m used to it by now." He sighed and pressed his cheek against her fur. "Thank you."

Lucius spoke quietly about something behind the door and turned back to him.

"He’s ready to see you... He was glad to meet us, Mr. Nobody. Come by more often."

"And I’m glad too, Lucius..."

Watching him walk straight to the elevator, he finally opened the door.

Bright light flooded his vision, along with the scent of old books and dry wine.

In the room, decorated with three massive stained-glass windows and shelves of real books, stood a single wooden desk.

Behind it, with his back turned, sat a man in a wheelchair, looking out the window at the sunlit streets.

Taking a couple of steps forward, Mr. Nobody’s gaze fell on a real photograph in a frame on the desk.

It showed eight dark-skinned people in black uniforms bearing the symbol of a red star. One of them wore a black bracelet on his wrist. He remembered only the faces of a few of them...

After all, in the Pit, most of them had been torn to pieces.

The last figure in the photograph was almost indistinguishable, but a grappling hook hanging was clearly visible on his belt. It seemed as though time had damaged the paper... But he knew that wasn’t the case.

After all, that eighth person was the corpse his soul had taken over two years ago.

This was the place where it all really began...

"Padre."

And he called out to the man across from him.