Walking up to find himself in that godforsaken place, that this nighmare wasn't simply a dream, a hoax, but was his reality, sobered Ken up all too soon.

The time was told by the barely upright sun, telling Ken of the night he spent in unconcinousness.

A sudden thought about others seeing the state of the 'body' caused panic to well inside his mind, but a quick check at the garbage can and he saw that the cover to the trash bin fell when he let go.

A sigh of relief was stilted inside his throat as he heard ruffling a few feet away.

His heartbeat increased as he snapped his head in the direction, seeing a rat eating some leftover skin that it had ripped away from the corpse.

With the tension dissipating, his eyes felt heavier than normal, not that he was surprised.

Proper sleep had eluded him as nightmares constantly invaded his mind, grusome scenes depicting different ways he ate the manged corpse.

Ken was tired, traumatized, and, most importantly, hungry.

"If I didn't throw up..."

He didn't finish his sentence as alarm bells rang inside his mind.

Was he seriously laminating over throwing up 'that'?

Did he regret it?

With a pounding headache that came out of nowhere, the boy planned on clutching his head, hoping to ease his storm-like thoughts, when he noticed the flaky blood that had already stained his fingers.

He forced himself to bear through the pain and stood up, using the garbage as a crutch due to the intense vertigo that struck him.

"Let’s get cleaned up first."

His clothes were smeared with blood, dirt, and whatever other liquid the 'puddle' he landed in when asleep contained.

With a plan, albeit a temporary one, the boy managed to resolve himself to leave, yet right when he was at the exit, he couldn't help himself.

His body turned around, looking at the garbage bin and taking in the sight of a now child-sized bloody handprint staining its blackish-blue frame.

With his mind tired, he quickly dismissed any thoughts about the trouble that may come and turned around.

.

.

Ken stood in front of a mirror, facing himself and looking at 'His' body.

The iconic white hair that sat around the length of his ears, the gray eyes, a spitting image of 'him' in child form, should 'his' hair have prematurely turned white.

Moving his gaze back to those listless eyes, Ken rubbed them before spashing some of the water in the sink below on his face.

He looked back up, still seeing the same appearance as before, and the sight, now that he knew what was really going on, pissed him off.

He wanted to break every mirror in the world; he wanted to punch the gods till they bled.

"What a laugh they may be having now, reincarnating myself into this world as ‘That’ kind of being."

Ken sneered at the past him for not figuring things out sooner.

‘A Ghoul, a being from the popular manga Tokyo Ghoul from my past life, they're beings that often masquerade as humans in public, but in the dark, the differences that set them apart shine.'

Drawing on his distant knowledge, Ken summarized what he knew: 'Ghouls have an extra sac-like organ, a Kakuhou, which acts as a storage ground for RC cells.’

‘Ghouls need RC cells to live, and they can’t get them from normal food, so they must resort to eating humans, cannibalizing…Heh, can’t even call it that. Ghouls aren’t even human.'

That fact, him being an entirely different species, filled Ken with a feeling of loneliness akin to the one that's been lording over him from the moment he woke up in the foreign world.

‘Ghouls can activate the RC cells from their Kakuhou to pierce through their skin, giving them the ability to manifest a Kagune.’

Ken looked at his hand for a second before placing the center of his right thumb on the knuckle of his right index finger.

Then pressing down, he shifted the bone out of place. A dull pain flooded his mind, and in response to that, his shirt was pierced through the back, leaving two blood-like tendrils on each side.

‘A Rinkaku, of course.’ He dryly thought.

Ken touched it, feeling the slick-like material; it was hard and yet soft, rough and yet smooth, deserving the name of liquid muscle.

He looked up into the mirror once again, and his left sclera changed from white to black, along with his left pupil, making the switch from grey to blood red.

Accompanied by the red lines protruding from that eye onto the sides of his face, it gave him a demonic look.

‘A Kakugan.’

Now he looked like the spitting image of the character he read about, Ken Kaneki.

A boy who was turned into a ghoul by a mad scientist after his date tried to kill him.

The story was about how Kaneki had to live with the changes of becoming a Ghoul, changing his worldview that had been shaped by his previous life while trying to preserve that sliver of humanity inside of him.

‘Though he eventually lost.’

At least, that was what Ken remembered after he finished all 143 chapters of the book.

Anguish filled his being as he felt like fate was telling him of his death. Imagine learning about your future, not on what would happen every day but as a summarization of how you would die.

You know it’s inevitable and that you can’t change it.

You can foresee yourself going through many endeavors, all to change the ending.

But your foresight can also see the ending standing tall, like a daunting mountain that will never chip, no matter how many times you swing your pickaxe at it.

Ken didn’t consider himself a good person; he was scum, a common street urchin who infested the world, stole resources, caused calamity, and meddled in others' lives, all to live a meager, unfulfilling life.

If even that guy, someone who was as bright as the sun and who attracted various people to help him, failed to control the monster, then what chance did he have?

It probably sounded so naive, using a piece of fiction to dictate his future, but that piece of fiction became his reality.

And in the midst of his brooding, Ken felt the pangs of hunger, symbolizing his new reality.

The weight of all this nearly crushed his tiny shoulders.

So, to distract himself, Ken disabled his Kagune, something he instinctively knew how to do, and walked out of the bathroom, ignoring how his dislocated joints miraculously healed themselves.

Cubicles were all around, with various people inside as well as a counter clerk who was smoking his day away.

Ken had come to a cyber cafe, a place where various people from all walks of life came, which would draw suspicion away from him.

He had dropped some money on the counter, took the key to his booth, and bolted to the bathroom.

Luckily, the blood had been easily whipped off on some grass, letting him use his spit to make sure his hand was mostly red-free before coming in.

Getting into his booth, Ken sat on the chair and looked around, noting the soundproofing of the area.

After confirming there was no camera inside the booth, Ken emptied his pockets.

A phone, broken beyond repair, a wallet filled with Ken's remaining change, and some papers were revealed.

‘Why were these taped to the doctor's body, and how did they remain with him all this time?’

Ken remembered how, in his delirious state, he found these: the phone, wallet, and paper, all taped to the doctor's stomach while hidden behind a rather bulky jacket and shirt.

He remembered how originally the head, majority of his torso, and two shoulders were already stumps, having already been severed, leaving his entire lower section in a separate pile.

Ken counted how much money was left in the wallet, and multiple banknotes were seen, adding up to 70,000 yen ($500 USD).

‘Enough to last for a while with me not needing to cover any of the three basic needs, and also enough to buy some info.’

Ken didn’t know what his future plans would be, but he did know that his special 'food' requirements would be an inevitable issue.

Still, he was doing this to take his mind off such things, so Ken opened the paper, trying to drown himself in anything but his problems.

Reading the text, a few lines of text could be seen with Ken's name at the top.

The document written on a rough piece of lined paper displayed words saying that his height was shorter for his age, his weight was under the expected amount, and his muscles were smaller than normal.

Perhaps the most surprising thing was an entire section dedicated to his scars.

Pictures of his scar tissues, of bruises that had barely healed, and one overall showing his size.

At the end is a note reading, ‘Please understand my position and launch an investigation immediately.’

‘He did this for me?’

Ken was unfamiliar with someone being genuine; living with assholes makes you unaccustomed to kindness.

He flipped over the paper, seeing in huge letters, “Notes to say to the boss."

‘Doc died over me? No way, who’d be willing to kill to protect this information from getting out...that shitty old man?’

Ken considered it for a second before instantly dismissing the idea. ‘He’s a drunkard bastard; how could he deal with Doc so easily, not to mention he’s a coward?'

Ken looked at the phone and had an idea.

If the Doc died because of him, then there may be some evidence on the phone.

He grabbed the USB cord the store kindly provided and connected the computer to the phone.

Using the self-taught computer skills he picked up in his last life, living near someone who slept most of the day and left their windows unlocked allowed him to pick up a few more things than just knowledge from books.

Before accepting to show files, he messed with the settings of the computer, putting it in a state where all records of what he’d done would be deleted once he logged out.

‘Guess paying that boy back by buying him more of his so-called 'sacred' text was worth it after all.’

Then, while transferring files from the phone to the computer, Ken saw normal things—pictures of his wife.

Pictures of other women who Ken assumed he was cheating with due to the promiscuous positions they were in, as well as the timestamp being after a photo of his wedding but before one of his new-born babies, etc.

‘Even pieces of shits have a heart, huh?’

Then, once he navigated down the list, Ken saw a file captioned Home Camera.

"Gatcha." Opening it, Ken found what he was looking for.

24-hour footage of the Doc's home, all automatically saved to the files on his phone.

The mysterious part was that the last video inside the house only lasted 7 hours with the outside footage only being a few hours later than that.

Playing from Thursday, Ken sped forward and eventually stopped on one of the many inside cameras showing the doctor writing the note he just read on his work desk.

Then, once satisfied and after many throwaways, the doctor went on a video call with a man the doctor called his boss.

They conversed, mainly the doctor telling the boss about him and the boss presenting other possible reasons, all shot down by the doctor.

The meeting ends with the boss tiredly saying he’ll do something about it before hanging up.

The doctor's mutterings could be heard about how he didn’t trust his boss and questioning what was happening.

And after he achieved an enlightened expression, the doctor packed what he needed—his phone, a few pairs of clothes, money, and valuables—before putting them next to the chair.

He then went to the couch after locking the door and slept in his office, Pariona seeming to be getting to him as he wanted to be ready to leave at a moment's notice.

He muttered about how he was intending on leaving the next day before closing his eyes.

The clip ends a few hours later, and when Ken goes to Friday, as the clips always start at the end, he only saw a burned-down house.

So rewinding to the beginning, he sees that, from a camera in the kitchen, at 4 a.m. the house was broken into.

The intruders made their way quietly to the room the doctor was in before one of them used his quirk to unlock the door.

Once inside, facing the defenseless man, a plethora of rounds were shot at the doctor consecutively, though no sounds were heard.

Then the convulsing of the body under the red-stained covers finished.

With the weird soundproofing they had finally gone, Ken heard what they said for the first time.

"Boss, it’s all finished; yes, he’s turned into a corpse. We’ve found some goods we’ll deliver soon.”

'Is this the same boss of the hospital, and if so, did he organize the doctor's murder?’

After all, who else would spend so much money on this powerful group of killers to kill a doctor?

Ken turned back to the screen, paying attention to the assassin's words after he finished the call.

“Dying by your boss's hands. Hey A, aren’t you supposed to deal with the body?"

“Common, you know how much it takes out of me to get rid of an entire body; besides, if we burn up the place and make it look like a robbery, no one will ever know that he was murdered.”

The other one grumbled, but with "A" saying he owed him one and the third one being oddly quiet, they moved things around, messing up the place so that it looked like an armed robbery instead of an assassination.

“Y-You guys, go ahead; I’m going to sweep the place one last time.”

"Geez, you're such a baby; fine, but get out before we have to deal with another corpse.”

Leaving the other two to walk away, the third one left for the second floor, avoiding the kitchen, which was now on fire.

The third one, with a telekinetic quirk, made strained grunts but severed the doctor's arm and grabbed it, placing it in the spot the body was supposed to be in.

Ken saw the assassin move the doctor's body outside the room, and a few minutes later, the inside footage ended with the burning of the camera.

So Ken turned to the outside camera, where, after rewinding, he saw the Assassin place the doctor's one-armed body down, hidden by some tall stocks of grass.

The man left, and after Ken skipped through some more footage, he saw the man coming back a few hours later.

“Dying by fire, well, since you're already dead, I guess burning by fire’s a bit too good for you. You're the one who healed that hero when he was on the verge of death, and because of you, he ended up coming back for revenge and giving me this scar!”

Ken saw him lift up his shirt, and a large scar ran from his pelvis until his neck could be seen.

“Nah, I’ll drag you to the 'that' district, where all sorts of people live. I’m sure your body’ll end up in a worse state than by fire. Maybe it’ll be eaten by a rat, pissed on by a drunk, or raped by some desperate bastard.”

With a laugh, he telekinetically lifted the corpse before leaving himself, and a few hours later, the fire spread till it got to the outside camera too.

Once everything went static, Ken went over what he'd just seen.

'The killer had a vengeance, and so he dragged the doctor's body here; somehow, in the process, perhaps by him or someone else, the body was cut into sections and stuffed into a dumpster. I then came along, tore it up, and recovered the materials that were tapped onto his body.’

Ken went back to Thursday, looking at the scene of the frantic doctor packing everything.

It seemed he skipped through this scene too fast, as when slowed down, he saw that the doctor tapped the items Ken found on his body onto himself.

‘Did he do it for insurance? Maybe, as a diversion, if he ever needed to throw the bag away, he’d have his most valuables with him.’

Ken shook his head and dropped the topic of finding out what the dead man wanted; instead, he focused on the Assassins.

'A planned killing, orchestrated by the boss of the doctor. My dad may be somehow involved. The hirer may be a lazy individual since the incompetence of the killers allowed me to get this information, and I doubt professionals would be this stupid.’

Then again, Ken did know that sometimes rage and anger blinded people and that even the most composed could be drawn to do stupid things on the spur of the moment.

Ken was reminded of the story when a hired killer kept hiring someone else until the last guy got them all turned in.

‘What a mess, but I’ll eventually find the killer, Doc.’

That was all Ken could do; he treated it as his way to atone for eating the Doc's body.

‘Back to my problems, though.’

Ken felt himself starving for the moment, putting his hand on his stomach, and remembering some information he reckoned he had about a week before the hunger pains would change in nature warping his mind to the point that he would attack anyone he saw.

Ken didn’t know what he would do in a week from now, and he didn't want to.

The future wouldn’t be something he wanted to happen anyways, so like his other problems before he simply ignored it.

Picking himself up and walking out of the place Ken navigated his way to the park.

The time wasn’t even 8, and with a shitty rest the previous night, Ken, perched up on a bench basking under the warming sun thankful that the winds aren’t high, fell asleep.

His final thoughts were a sarcastic reply to his cruel situation, ‘What a great early birthday present.’