Awaiting soft rains(An extra's novel),Chapter 9: Diary,Hangman

Chapter 9: Diary

The light coming from the window had turned a dull blue, with the scenery darkening as well, showing it was roughly evening outside.

Getting food had been rather easy. I was pleasantly surprised when I found a delivery option in the interface, which I promptly used. Couldn’t say I was in the mood to go searching for the cafeteria today.

The food lived up to my expectations too, even though it’d been a mystery hamburger with mystery meat, mystery veggies, and a side of mystery drink. It was one of the best meals I’d had in my life, possibly in both of my lives, but then again this was the academy after all. The scions and heirs of noble clans were in attendance here, food of this level was probably just the bare minimum.

’Praise be to the nobles, I guess.’

Still, something had been bugging me recently. Even after I’d eaten, rested, and messed with the interface for a while, I couldn’t remember anything about the previous Victor. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

I was familiar with transmigration stories, even niches like authors being reincarnated in their own work. I had become an avid reader of webnovels during the last year of my past life. Typically, after the initial confusion of transmigration, the transmigrators experienced an influx of memories from the body’s previous owner. Sometimes it came flavored with headaches or migraines too.

I’d been hoping to suddenly get that influx of memories at some point today. Yet the sky was already turning dark, and the influx was still nowhere in sight.

’I should just give up at this point.’

With the chance of suddenly regaining my memory dwindling, I’d taken to searching the room to see if any belongings could spark recognition.

I had already checked my contacts using the interface, but there was only one person there. A person by the name of Anna.

’Is that the girl on the wallpaper?’

I tried checking the message logs, but it seemed they weren’t in the habit of texting. I could only see some logs of calls, but none were recorded.

I certainly wasn’t planning on calling this Anna person to find out who they were. They’d notice something was off with my behavior, and sure, I could chalk it all up to losing my memories. Still, it was better to find something about my previous self before making any attempt at contact.

That’s how I found myself digging through the wardrobe in search of any personal effects the old Victor might have had. As I moved to pick up the combat uniform, my hand brushed against something solid beneath it. Pushing the clothes aside, I found a thin, worn-out book.

’Strange...’

Books weren’t rare in this world, but they had been phased out in favor of the interface. It would be rather hard for an orphan like the old Victor to get his hands on one.

I picked it up, carefully inspecting its surface.

It was well taken care of, that much I could tell. Any tears or wrinkles in the cover had been neatly sealed with duct tape. Scribbles covered its surface, ranging from flames, flowers, to the number ’007.’ All of them surrounded the center, where a tall pink stick figure held the hand of a shorter blue one. Written neatly above them was a single word.

"My diary."

I felt a pang in my chest as I read it. I’d been running away from it since yesterday, but I couldn’t anymore. It didn’t matter if I did it unknowingly, the fact was that I’d killed the old Victor the moment I took this body.

There hadn’t been anyone who fainted before the first class in the original story. So my transmigration had to have been what killed him. Given his original potential of B Rank, the boy had likely been an unknown extra in the story. Maybe he eventually died during one of the assassinations, the end-of-the-year massacre, or one of the numerous tragedies in my novel.

But he never even had a chance this time. He died without even knowing what killed him. The boy would never have the chance to enjoy being lifted out of poverty, after all he’d suffered. It would all be for nothing.

It reminded me of my old life a bit. All worlds, it seemed, had the habit of playing cruel jokes on people.

I didn’t blame myself, I never asked to be transmigrated after all. But the realization left me with a strange sense of guilt and numbness.

Still, this was what it was.

I sighed, sitting on the bed before opening the book. A lot of pages seemed to have been torn out before the actual first page of the diary.

’Reused, huh?’

There was a small note on the first page.

Well, I wasn’t a skinwalker, so it didn’t count. The note continued.

I flipped to the next page.

<I showed Annabel my first entry today. For some reason she hit me, saying it wasn’t proper. Every good diary starts with a proper introduction, she said. This is my attempt at that, I did research for this.

My name is Victor, 14 years of age, don’t have a last name. Apparently, I was born in a place called Neo-Seoul, part of the Republic of Bastion. I can’t say either has had much of an effect on my life. I’ve only seen government officials back in the orphanage, and the occasional detachment of soldiers heading up north. If you can’t tell already, I am an orphan. Never known my parents, neither do I care to.

This should be good enough for Annabel, no?>

The rest of the entries halfheartedly recorded events that occurred in his life. It didn’t seem to be written on a daily basis either.

<It’s almost spring, Annabel’s been making us linger close to the shelter exit. Something about wanting me to see how pretty the flowers are at spring. She’s weird, but I don’t hate her. Speaking of which, I don’t think I’ve told you how we met, have I?

It was around a year ago, I’d been near the junkyard scavenging for parts or anything valuable to sell. I hadn’t eaten anything for almost two days, so I wasn’t shocked when I fainted. What surprised me was being able to get out alive.

When I woke up, I found myself in a small room with her sitting beside me. Naturally, I was suspicious of her and asked what she wanted in return for helping me. She said she needed nothing and had only helped me because I looked like her older brother. He is dead, by the way. Anyway, since that day on, she’s been helping me out. At some point, she started asking me to call her my older sister.

I have done so, and will continue to do so if it helps her feel any better. I may be a slum rat, but I know the meaning of gratitude.>

<It’s been getting harder to find scraps or anything valuable in the junkyard. I might have to apply for one of those manual labor jobs, but who’ll take a scrawny-looking slum rat?>

<Anna’s letting me stay at her place for as long as I need to, she’s real swell. I think I’d rather just live here.>

<Anna fell sick last week. It has possibly been the worst week of my life, not even the days I’d nearly starved to death could compare. I rushed her to the nearest clinic, but the initial tests showed no results. The prices for deeper tests were so absurd they would leave us penniless by the time she took them, let alone an actual cure.

By some miracle, some men from the Church of the New Mother took her, saying they could cure her. I’m sure it was for a publicity stunt, but I am eternally grateful they did. In less than three days, she was back to full health. She doesn’t seem willing to tell me what her sickness was, but that doesn’t matter.

I’m glad she’s fine. I haven’t had proper sleep in a week.>

Soon enough, I was at the final entry.

<I awakened, I actually awakened. The status screen suddenly popping up in front of me had been so jarring it took me a few minutes to realize what I was experiencing. I ran straight home to tell Anna about it, earning me a tight hug. We celebrated that night with expensive real food. We would be rich enough to afford that now.

The Government Agent I called said he would be coming tomorrow to verify it. I probably won’t write any new entries for a while, I have a feeling the next couple of weeks are going to be very hectic.

I almost can’t believe this is actually happening, it still feels like a dream. I’m taking both of us out of this shithole, I swear it.>

I sighed, closing the diary.

"What a cruel world."