Chapter 3

Eight Years Prior

The electric chime made a friendly sound when I entered the store. Noise from the street outside faded away once the sliding door closed automatically. Just like on cue, the female clerk at the counter greeted me politely. I gave a lazy nod and started to browse the aisles.

The place was a sizable convenience store near the bus stop, just a few blocks away from my apartment. It was brightly lit and clean, just like many other similar places.

I grabbed a deluxe porridge since unsurprisingly I felt rather unwell. The cause was easy to find, I hadn’t been home for two days. One from overtime and the second one from a sudden monsoon rain which wrecked the bus schedule. On both occasions, I ended up sleeping rough at the office.

Ugh... cold...

I suppressed a sneeze since I didn't want to attract attention. Unnecessary human interaction was a mood breaker for me. I walked past the cold section and reached the last aisles. Out of habit, I checked my phone and it showed: Friday, 10.33 pm.

Friday night, huh?

Normally, today was a big day for office workers. But my colleagues and I were well into our fourth year. We had too much workload. So much so that we simply chose to come home early. We needed that rest before the dreaded Monday came again.

A few of my colleagues had started a family. Me, not so much. There used to be a girl that I dated, but she ended up working in another city, and naturally, the relationship fell apart.

... There had been another girl at work. However, I found out that she slept with some manager in the main office. She likely had flirted with me just to get more help with her assignments.

Ever since that mess, I hadn’t thought about starting a new one. As average joe with basic social skills, I realized I had little chance for romance. Especially when work took all my time of the day.

At the last aisle, I grabbed an egg and ham sandwich and then proceeded to the cashier.

I ended up buying several ready meals for the weekends. Nowadays I spend those time alone.

“Would you like a bag?” the female clerk asked after I gave her my card.

“Yes, please," I replied while tucking my card back into the wallet.

I went to the hot water station and poured one for my porridge. Next, I picked the far table inside the store and relaxed in my seat. Near midnight, the place was peacefully empty.

The porridge was still halfway ready. Without things to do, I checked my emails on the phone. Jackpot! Nothing about work showed up. In contrast to my inbox, my game chat app showed numerous notifications. I fired up the app and found no less than twenty private messages, dozens of tags, and marked-up discussions.

By the time I skimmed some of them, the porridge was finally ready. Carefully I tore the lid and mixed the hot content using a plastic spoon. The Deluxe portion was bigger and had more condiments. One of them, the fried scallions, gave a much-needed aroma.

Within minutes I finished half of it. However, just like any other instant food, the first few spoonfuls were usually good, but later on, they began to feel off. Either too salty, tangy or simply tasted artificial.

I drank water from a bottle and rested my back against the hard plastic seat.

Probably I need some sweet milk tea to wash this bad taste down.

As I’m contemplating which to drink, more notifications showed on the phone screen. Now the game chat app was online, messages came through as if unfiltered.

I smirked as I found this to be funny. Nobody was looking for me in real life except for work-related issues. Although I had real friends, they were busy with their own lives and we rarely chat.

Besides, men rarely text other men on weekends.

However, in the virtual world, many were looking for me. Some asked about game-related info, some about day-to-day guild management, few about some other topics in the forum.

In real life, I’m just a faceless grunt. My name means nothing, but in the gaming circle, the name Lansius commanded a presence. Hundreds of players trusted that name. Even guild leaders listen if I were to scheme things up, organize raids, or form alliances.

Far from the strongest player around, I’m probably known because I’m online every weekend. Also, showing basic courtesy and respect, plus not being an arse helped my reputation. Frankly, it wasn’t hard. There was always a lack of responsible adults in the gaming community. Helpful gamers were always in demand.

I read the chat passionately when I noticed a long-forgotten nickname showed up on my chat.

Stan69? Dang, it’s been a while!

The guy was a longtime comrade. We had spent unbelievable amounts of game time together before I quit that particular game last year.

I hope he’s not asking me to return to the game.

The game was four years old, as an online game it was already ancient. Still, his nickname and avatar brought back fond memories. Just when I was about to read the message, someone passed beside me with big grocery bags.

“Hey, careful,” I warned him. But it was too late. His grocery bag hit the table and sent my half-eaten porridge to the floor. The plastic bowl made a clattering sound while splattering its content around.

It was a mess.

My knee-jerk reaction had evaded me from the splash zone. Meanwhile, the offender’s shoes weren't so lucky. The white watery gooey content landed squarely on his shoes.

Ahh, serve him well... This is just unnecessarily stupid…

I noticed the fifty-something man wore fancy clothing. Leather jacket, burgundy shirt, black jeans, and a purple beanie. His unkempt hair and mini goatee finished the bad boy look.

“Is everthing alright?" Just stand still, I’ll get the mop.” The female clerk rushed to the inner side of the shop.

She left the two of us alone.

“Boy,” the man called, “aren’t you going to clean this up?”

“Huh?” I couldn't believe what I just heard.

“My shoes, it’s dirtied by your porridge. Can’t you wipe it for me?”

What the? The nerve to ask after ruining my meal. He’s really asking me to clean his shoes?

The two of us stared at each other. After a few seconds that felt like a minute, I sighed, reached for my pocket for a tissue, and knelt. I didn’t know why, but probably to avoid further problems.

What’s one more bullying going to do? I already receive shits like this on daily basis at work.

It was gross but I cleaned his shoes. The black leather almost returned to its former gloss.

“Mm, I appreciate it, but it’s still dirty," the old man commented.

Well, what do you expect, this is just a tissue-

“How about using some polish wipes, I have it ready.”

Is he joking?

He didn't. The man actually got a polish wipe and handed it to me. The unpleasant face I made must be 100% noticeable, but this old man played dumb.

Why the smug face you ass-

I breathed out to cool myself down. After a second or two, my temper subsided. Arguing against an elderly wouldn't do me any favor. Hesitantly, I grabbed the polish wipe, tore the plastic packaging, and went down to business. At least there's no lack of motivation as I transferred my anger into the wax cloth and rubbed as if attacking it.

After a minute or two, I stood up with my back wet from sweat.

The old man simply nodded and left.

I was frustrated, but I couldn't care anymore. So I sat down and…

What the? Why is this porridge bowl still here?

I looked down and found no mess on the floor. The female clerk was at her place, she didn’t bring a mop or bucket as she had said.

What is happening?

Not even a dirty tissue was seen. This freaked me somewhat. I tucked unopened goods into my plastic bag and get ready to dash out, but something pushed me back into my chair. I froze. The old man materialized in front of me and I couldn't move a single muscle.

“You could be taught,” he said.

I was too panicked to think of an answer. I frantically tried to move my hands and legs while hoping somebody would notice and get me out of this oddity. Unable to move my eyeball, somehow I squinted at the corner where the female clerk would be. I saw her, but she too was standing still, motionless.

I realized there was no sound at all, everything was dead quiet. I couldn't even scream.

“You don’t need to scream,” the old man said ever casually.

Y- you can read minds??

“Thoughts even desires, Lansius.”

But how- Wait, how do you know that name?

Scarred, but also pissed to be put in this situation, I demanded an answer.

“Isn’t that what you prefer to be called?” he replied calmly but that only fueled me with suspicion.

This must be narcotics or some drug-

“Calm down. What you’re thinking isn’t right.”

Did I inhale something? Is this some kind of cult, because like hell I-

“It isn’t, but I see that wouldn’t trust me easily. Should I name your mother and father? Oh, that’s probably too easy. How about the names of girls that you liked at school?”

Are you making fun of me?!

“Still no? Ok then, how about your hidden love for the neighbor’s daughter? I believe she's three years your senior?”

A shocking chill was felt along my spine. I never told anyone about that. Not a soul.

“Ah, finally, I got your attention,” he said with a grin.

Who are you, how could you know all that? Are you holy or something-

“I’m not divine. Some faiths may classify beings like me as a demigod or angels, but truthfully, I am just a formless being. I am old though, trillions of eons won’t even describe my age.”

… But then why are you here? I’m just a human. I hope you don’t ask me to start a religion or something.

The man erupted into laughter. “I have no such ability nor desire for it.”

Then why?

“Attachment. I am indebted to you. A universe ago, we were once brothers. Many times father and son. Unfortunately, you never ascend to the higher realm.”

If we are somehow related then you should know better. I’m too lazy to bother with that kind of stuff.

He chuckled. “I’m glad that you’re still the same. Quick to anger, but overall decent. Probably that's why you're endlessly reborn as a human. However, this time you won’t be so lucky.”

Why's that?

“In three years' time, you’ll die. This time, alone, in pain, and with deep regret.”

…For real? How?

“Some kind of malady, but worse.”

I see... If this is a warning, then I should be able to avoid-

“No, you can’t. Not even I could meddle with fate.”

That confused me. I expected his goal was to make me do something in return for "salvation". The usual cult trap was like that.

So, you can't save me?

“It’s just the way it is. What little merit you accumulated finally ran out.”

Then what will happen to me, hell?

“I’m not all-knowing, but it’s usually spiraling from one lower realm into another. Hell is at the bottom, but don’t fret, heaven or hell doesn’t last forever, but very close to eternity from a human standpoint.”

Still annoyed at this bizarre encounter, but fearful of his power that paralyzed the space around me, I decided to consider whatever he was suggesting.

Is there no way out?

“That’s why I’m here. I could give just a little nudge. Just enough so you could start anew. You won’t remember this life, but nothing is perfect.”

I suddenly gasped. I could feel the air moving through my nostrils again. As I breathed, the sounds were starting to register in my ears. The humming from the various coolers in the store, the air conditioner, and the muffled noise from outside. I felt relieved hearing them back.

My hands and limbs were back. It was so good to feel my hands and my limbs move freely. There was no sign of drug effect, no hazy, or funny feeling. Feeling secure, I dared to look for the old man, but he was gone.

For him to leave like that after all that.

[Our conversation is not over, Lansius.]

“Ekkk...!” I jumped from my seat. That reaction warranted some attention.

“Are you okay? Do you need any-” The female clerk gave a questioning look.

“I- I’m fine thank you," I replied and then I quickly dumped my leftover into the bin and headed out.

Outside, the bus stop was less crowded than before, but I paid little attention. Hurriedly, I walked toward my apartment. “Can you still talk to me?” I asked as inaudibly as I could.

[Of course. If you don’t mind, I’m just going to take a little bit more of your time.]

It seemed our position was now reversed. He was in my mind while I spoke to him verbally. “Go ahead," I replied. As I'm not tied against my will, this time I put slightly more trust in him.

[Lansius, you are my last attachment. This is my sole reason to help you. Seek a bag of books in your apartment.]

“Bag of books got it.”

[Study them well and in three years, we'll meet again for the last time.]

I picked up my pace. Once at the gate, I tapped the key card and went inside. Even inside the elevator, I still couldn't shake this odd feeling. Never have I experienced something like this in my life.

Demigods, past life, what am I getting myself into?

I exited the elevator and reached my room. Quickly I opened the door and flipped the light switch on. There, just like the old man said, there was a bag of books on top of my coffee table. The bag looked expensive, made from recycled materials. It had a logo from a big renowned bookshop. I grabbed it and hurriedly emptied its content on the table.

I looked and went limped as I read the titles: The Art of Renaissance Warfare, Commentaries of the Gallic War by Julius Caesar, Sun Tzu: The Art of War.

“This cannot be happening…” I protested but there was no response. The old man was gone. It seemed his last words were final. Still hoping for something else, I looked at the other books.

Cimbrian Wars & Marius Reform, Condottieri 1200-1500, Armies of feudal Europe 1066-1300...

There’s no hiding it. The common theme was clear: Wars.

I lost my composure and sat lifelessly on the floor.

***