A certain place in Shibuya.
"It's raining again today."
"What to eat tonight, babe?"
"Tomorrow is a holiday, I can't finish my work!!"
"Dad, can you buy me that doll, please~?"
All murmurs of people echo in this so-called life, where they live one day after another, seeking joy and comfort in their own world.
"I need to find fresh blood this time. I should pick something different. Those above need something new, something fresh. This time, I'm kind of lucky that the world I came to is mature in entertainment."
The hooded man, wearing clothes like something from an ancient Chinese movie, tinkered with a compass in his hand—something that should be conspicuous, but no one seemed able to see him at all.
"Now, let's see." With the compass in hand, he walked to the nearest café, where he found his target.
What stood before him was a salaryman—nothing outstanding, seeming like a normal person. What was different were his eyes, which were empty. Not like those who had lost hope or sought death, but like someone bored with life to the extreme.
He drank his coffee at 12:00. Same brand. Same seat. Same posture.
He read the same type of magazine. Animals today. Yesterday too.
His left pinky raised slightly when holding the cup—not out of elegance, just habit.
Cheap suit. Poorly fitted. Unbranded jeans. Nothing memorable.
Black necktie slightly crooked. No attention to detail. No sense of self.
Average look. 168 cm in height. Average build.
Black hair. Black eyes. Nothing memorable.
No ambition.
No expectation.
No attachment.
There was nothing worth remembering. Not even himself
The doorbell of the café rang with an ethereal sound. The whole café trembled, the melody echoing like a salute or welcome song. The whole world seemed to rejoice, as if something was about to happen.
The hooded man entered through the door, but no one noticed anything at all.
His eyes never left the person sitting at the counter in front of him—the target of this trip.
"I am [———]. I came here for you, to join us."
The hooded man wasted no time, sitting beside the salaryman and stating his purpose.
"Who are you, and what is with that name?" the salaryman asked, appearing completely normal—no excitement, no panic, not even interest.
"Our names are not just names, but essence—same as you. A person who drifts across Japan, China, Korea, working six days a week, nine hours a day. No family, no burden."
The hooded man conjured tea out of the air and drank it.
"No need for a name. It offers no meaning. But after joining us, you will need to think carefully about your name and title, because they define who you are."
"Why me?" the salaryman asked, his face still showing no expression.
"Because it is you who were chosen by the compass, and that is sufficient. We are the [Theater of Ascension], and you will soon know what it is about."
The hooded man made a certain hand symbol and grabbed the salaryman's head. Unknown knowledge started pouring into his mind.
The salaryman smiled.
Maybe it would be his first and last time in this boring world.
Behind that smile was a feeling of desolation, not desperation—he who saw through the illusion of life.
It left him with no motivation, no drive—nothing to look forward to.
But now—
He saw a way, when something appeared before his eyes.
[New entertainer detected]
[Please select your Intern Title]
[System initialized]
[Welcome, new [———]]
and
[Sub-system activated: World's Blessing]
[The world has made a contract with the Theater of Ascension due to your existence]
[Your fortune and destiny have accumulated within the main system]
[Your status has been elevated, and you are able to have a second [Title]. The world will share this burden for you]
[She bids you farewell, her creation]
Soon, he disappeared with the hooded man—
And was never seen again.