The smog over Backlund was thick today, a yellow-gray haze that tasted of coal smoke and the damp rot drifting from the Tussock River.
Lin Qui stood before the cracked washstand mirror, staring into purple eyes. He raised a hand and touched the cold glass, tracing the lean jawline and messy black hair in the reflection. The face was sharp and a little underfed, the look of someone from the working districts.
Still not mine.
It had been three weeks since he'd died saving a mother and daughter from a thief back on Earth. Three weeks since he'd woken up in the body of Shen Akivil, the useless younger brother of a struggling family in the Loen Kingdom.
"At least it wasn't some cult ritual," he muttered, splashing his face with cold water. They didn't heat it in the mornings. He grabbed a rough towel and dried off. "Though in this world… maybe that would've been faster."
He knew where he was.
Lord of the Mysteries, a world of Beyonders, madness, gods, and cosmic horrors. And in a year or so, a certain Klein Moretti would shoot himself in the head in Tingen then a man name Zhou Mingrui will awaken and walk the path of The Fool.
But he was here early, too early.
The calendar on the peeling wall marked the date: 1348, July 5th.
A dull pressure stirred behind his temples. It had been happening every morning lately.
He braced a hand on the basin and closed his eyes.
Darkness and fog.
Then faint golden words appeared, steady and silent.
Pathway: UnbondedSequence 9: Rising StarFormula:10 grams of Sun-patterned Crystal dust. The eye of a Light-seeking Bat. Pure water collected under starlight.
Shocked, he opened his eyes at once.
The room was unchanged. Mirror. Basin. Damp wall.
Inside his mind, the words remained.
"…You've got to be kidding me, is this my cheat."
A pathway.
Not one he recognized from the book and none of the standard twenty-two. He has no idea what this path could be. A fortune or a Disaster
That wasn't reassuring.
Unknown usually meant dangerous.
But it was still something.
The floorboards creaked as he stepped out of his room. The apartment was small and smelled faintly of damp wood and boiled cabbage, but it was better than the East Borough slums.
Toast and cheap black tea drifted in from the dining room.
"You're late, Shen," Arthur said from behind a copy of the Tussock Times.
Arthur Akivil sat straight despite the wear in his uniform cuffs. His eyes were sharp, but exhaustion showed in the dark circles beneath them.
"I hope you weren't up all night reading those adventure novels again," Arthur said, taking a sip of tea. "The gas bill isn't getting any cheaper."
"Just studying the job market, brother," Shen said, pulling out a chair. "The civil service exam is approaching, after all. I need to know what they're looking for."
Across the table, the twin sisters exchanged looks.
"Shen? A civil servant?" Elara scoffed, buttering a slice of toast. She was studying law, and she already had the skepticism of a prosecutor. "He'd likely turn the application form into a paper airplane. He's far too 'free-spirited' for the Ministry. Remember the time he tried to invent a 'self-buttering toast machine' and nearly burned the kitchen down?"
"I think he'd look dashing in a uniform," Sera added softly, blowing on her tea. She was the gentler of the two, studying literature and folklore. She looked at Shen, tilting her head. "Though, Shen, your eyes look very deep today. Did you sleep well?"
Shen froze for a second before smiling a playful, disarming grin that belonged to the original Shen. "I slept like a baby, Sera. And my eyes are just reflecting your brilliance."
Sera giggled gently. Arthur huffed, folding his newspaper with a sharp snap.
"Flattery won't pay the bills, Shen," Arthur said, his voice dropping to a serious octave. "The cost of coal has gone up again. The smog tax is increasing. And with the girls' tuition deadline next month..."
He didn't finish the sentence, but the tension in the room spiked. The silence was heavy, filled with the unspoken fear of poverty. Arthur was the pillar of this family, carrying the weight of three siblings on a low-level government salary.
Shen felt a pang of guilt. It was the residue of the original owner, mixed with his own helplessness. In the novel, ordinary people were like grass in a storm when Beyonders clashed. A stray spell, a rampaging monster, a corrupt ritual—any of these could wipe the Akivil family off the map, and no one would care.
If he wanted to protect this peace and protect them from the madness of this world and the schemes of the corrupted people, he needed power.
He needed to become a Beyonder. And unlike Klein, he couldn't wait for a chance like Nighthawk to recruit him.
"I'm going out today," Shen said, grabbing a piece of dry toast. "I heard there's a recruitment drive at the import-export company near the harbor. Manual labor, but it pays daily."
Arthur's tone softened, nodding approval. "Good. Honest work is nothing to be ashamed of. Just... be careful near the docks. The gangs have been restless lately. There are rumors of disappearances."
"I'm always careful," Shen said, standing up. He made the sign of the crimson moon on his chest, a gesture that came naturally now after three weeks of practice. "Praise the Lady."
"Praise the Lady," the family chorused.
Outside, fog clung low to the cobblestones. Gas lamps flickered weakly in the gloom.
Shen adjusted his worn coat and started walking.
However, he wasn't heading to the harbor jobs.
Bravehearts Bar was closer.
Now that he has this pathway with a formula.
He would take the gamble and trust this unknown cheat.