Jolting, Cheek saw it was still nighttime. The crimson moon shone in the sky.

To others it may have been a beautiful sight.

To him, it only served to remind of what he had seen a few days prior.

Blood.

He couldn’t get that scene out of his head. One where a blond woman was laying on the ground, bleeding out.

And the answer he gave the man who killed her.

He knew it wasn’t his fault, she and that cloaked man had been chasing him. He thought he had already accepted this as his reality, what a foolish thought.

He didn’t regret what he told Venithan. Here, he could accomplish much more.

It’s not like he had any attachments, anyway. He hadn’t seen his father since he was eight, his mother was dead to him, the only people who he truly cared about were his grandparents. Yet, even that didn’t mean much, for they had already left the world.

Still, he thought that maybe things could have been better. Perhaps he could have been born a noble, that would certainly have made things easier.

‘It doesn’t matter, I’ll just have to do whatever I can with whatever I can get.’

Things weren’t so bad, he had gotten someone else to care about. He also had a house and food in his stomach.

Truthfully, his situation could have been worse, he could have been transmigrated in a worse part of the slums. He could have been a soldier, forced to fight in a war.

Yet even then, nothing could have prepared him for what he had seen that day.

It was a wake up call, the world slapping him with a healthy dose of negativity. He was grateful it had done so now and not later, too.

When all is said and done, he was never someone truly exceptional, but he knew that. Which is why he asked for an opportunity.

He hated stories where reality bent backwards to give the protagonist what he wanted. Or one where immediate power was handed to them on a silver plater, only for them to be incredibly dumb about it.

Cheek felt that such a thing would have been empty, devoid of any purpose.

What was the point of power if you couldn’t show anything for it?

He wasn’t saying he wanted to suffer, not at all. He was saying that he preferred to put sweat and tears into what he wanted, then to have it handed to him. It was much more satisfying, he loved the feeling of looking at everything he had built.

He had built plenty of things before, yet they were all met with catastrophe, all without exception.

In this world, he would build his power so that something like this wouldn’t happen again. So that he wouldn’t feel helpless ever again.

And all of that, well that was in the far future, the question was, would he regret it?

A future filled with roses and flowers, it wasn’t so easy, was it? Especially not in this world…

Laying on his hammock, he watched time pass by. He felt strangely alien, even with Cheek’s memories, this world was filled with far too many… Mysteries.

——————————————————————————————————————————

Putting on his mangled boots, Cheek looked at his foot once more, it had healed far too fast. It made him uneasy, owing Martin just didn’t seem like a good idea to him.

He wasn’t obeying him because he was grateful he had saved him.

No, any gratefulness he had vanished the moment he spoke of his sister.

This was an opportunity, and it was also something he could not refuse. It wasn’t him who was being held at gunpoint, and that was the problem.

Sliding his boot on, he rid himself of his negative mood. It would do him no good.

Today, he needed to be sharp and cautious.

He’d already spoken to Elisia about it, he wasn’t happy about that but there was no choice.

‘It wasn’t like she wasn’t suspecting something anyway.’

Finishing up, he didn’t dilly-dally and left.

The sun should be rising soon, he couldn’t afford to be late.

——————————————————————————————————————————

Walking in the slums wasn’t risk-free, especially at night. Gangs were inevitably going to clash, not every night, of course. It was just that people didn’t want to take the risk, why bet your life unnecessarily?

This time, Cheek didn’t really have a choice, the alternative was much worse.

Adjusting his signature cloak, he swiftly made his way towards the nearest alley.

Moving from one to the other in a vigilant manner. He continued on, judging time by looking at the stars wasn’t his forte.

‘Going to bed may not have been the best idea, what if I passed dawn?’

He knew it was unrealistic to ask himself not to sleep, he was just complaining inwardly.

He was actually pretty confident in his internal clock.

Ears picking up on something, he quickly dashed behind the closest object he could find. Attentively listening, he affirmed that it wasn’t a fight, it was too quiet.

Waiting for a bit, he moved the moment the sounds had completely faded. It was not the time for curiosity.

Going a bit slower, he made sure his steps were as silent as he could make them.

Moving across a few more buildings, he let out a breath, he was at the entrance of the middle-class neighbourhood where Martin lived.

“Entrance” was a big word, it was only a separation from run down and broken buildings to nicer ones.

That man’s house was on the very edge, he just needed to make it to the front door.

‘It’s gone well enough so far…’

Not wasting a moment more, he made his way to the right, lunging the buildings. It shouldn’t be more than five blocks off.

Feeling his vision brighten up, he saw that the sun was starting to peek over the horizon.

‘…’

Blankly staring at it, he fastened his pace and quickly arrived at his destination.

It was a French-style medieval house. One could see wooden pillars running through it. The walls were beige and the roof blue. All in all, a very common sight in the Kingdom of David.

Jumping the small fence leading to the backyard, an uncommon thing to have in the middle-class.

He didn’t bother to knock, he felt Martin would prefer this over him being “polite.” Plus, he didn’t know why Martin wanted him here, it was best to stay discreet.

Sighing, Cheek sat down on the grass, he could barely see the sun.

In the first place, Martin’s backyard was quite isolated, tall buildings surrounded it from all sides.

‘Hmm?’

Stiffening, Cheek felt someone watching him.

Snapping his head towards the source, he saw an unknown man.

He had long brown hair tied in a ponytail and a huge scar going down the left side of his face. He was quite tall too, at least a whole head more than him, and he was 5’8.

Wearing a sleeveless shirt, his bulging muscles were on full display.

Cheek couldn’t see any weapons on him, yet the man’s presence unnerved him. The man’s presence didn’t make him feel like he was prey. No, unlike Martin, this man didn’t give off a dangerous feeling, despite his imposing appearance, Cheek felt like he was in the presence of a street magician, those that could pull tricks without you without your notice.

It was jarring.

‘Never judge a book by its cover, I guess.’

Keeping his pace, the man continued to make his way towards Cheek.

… and sat down right next to him.

Not bothering to start a conversation, Cheek amusedly listened at the sounds of the man shifting uncomfortably.

He was enjoying this too much for his own good.

“Ah, um, you’re the kid Martin got to help, right?”

Turning his head, Cheek gave the man a flat look.

“Cheek.”

He spoke, introducing himself, much to the confusion of his companion.

“Yeah? Same here!”

Upon seeing Cheek’s “are you serious?” look, the man froze.

“…oh. That’s your name, isn’t it?”

“*Cough* Well my name’s Dexter, but you can call me Bester! Cuz I’m the bester!”

Turning his head away, Cheek couldn’t bear to look at this man any longer, he felt physical pain at each word that came out of Dexter’s mouth.

…it was like he was made to be cringe.

At that moment, Cheek made a very serious decision.

‘Keep interactions with Dexter to a minimum!’

He was already going to do that, but it seemed necessary to remind himself of it.

While musing, Cheek didn’t miss Martin slumping in despair.

“Dexter… what did you say about jokes! Don’t do them! Why is that so hard?”

And so, silence finally fell… for the next fifteen minutes.

*Creaak*

Opening his eyes, Cheek turn his head towards the house. He could see Martin walking out of it and into his backyard.

The sun could already be seen on the horizon, the day was starting.

“*Grunt* Both of you are here, good.

“Today, we are going to make preparations.”

“Huh? Preparations for what? Martin! You didn’t tell me shit!”

Exclaiming in indignation, Dexter was lost.

He hadn’t been told about this! He knew Martin wanted his help and that there would be another helper, but he hadn’t known about these “preparations”!

Cheek simply sent Martin a questioning glance, he’d rather not talk if he didn’t have to.

Cheek honestly wasn’t sure what to do, he couldn’t defy Martin, and although he had some freedom, he was practically a slave.

‘Another reason to become a Beyonder…’ He thought, not knowing that his wish would come true, yet not as he would have expected.

“We’re gonna be scouting a vault.”

And like a pause button had been pressed, both Dexter and Cheek froze.

“A vault!? Do you know the type of people who can afford a vault?” Dexter spoke, his voice becoming incredibly low towards the end.

“Fucking nobles! That or fucking criminal lords! Do you want to get us all killed!?”

Giving Dexter a deep stare, one could easily tell Martin was not amused.

“Dexter…” He started, voice dark “…the only reason I keep you alive is that, despite that voice of yours… You are useful.”

“Do not make me replace you.”

Flinching, Dexter held his head low, his expression pale.

“Any else?”

Cheek shook his head, even if there were something, he wouldn’t voice it.

“Good, you lot, are going to follow me for the day. I’m going to show you the ropes on what I want you to do for me.”