Jin became a stranger in the gray city overnight.

Looking up, skyscrapers touching the clouds form ridgelines,

Flying vehicles called AVs buzz around like flies,

Acidic rain often falls in drizzles,

A massive city painted with colorful neon signs.

The so-called Lost City.

The place where Jin first opened his eyes was at the bottom of that Lost City, in the downtown area.

To quote knowledge from his hometown, it felt like a mix of 1980s American Harlem's public safety and the visuals of Kowloon Walled City in Hong Kong around that time.

A veritable lawless zone.

For Jin, who was born and raised in Vietnam where gun control is the strictest in the world, everything was too much to handle.

In fact, Jin was shot on the very first day he woke up while wandering the streets.

Three shots, no less - in the shoulder, chest, and abdomen.

The fact that he didn't die was purely because his body was tough.

First, his life path as a nomad applied a 30% bonus to his physical strength.

Second, his starting perk was fast recovery, chosen to save on potion costs.

Both were a great help, but above all, his trait was crucial.

Jin's trait, Irregular, gifted him with tenacious vitality, living up to its description of transcending the limits of species.

And so, Jin learned the laws of the street solely with his body, without any know-how.

Bruising, tearing, and breaking were commonplace, often starving for days or lying sick like a corpse repeatedly.

One year passed like that.

Jin managed to survive.

'Managed' was the accurate expression.

Even Jin didn't know he could endure this much.

Feeling newly proud of himself,

Jin decided to indulge in luxury just for today.

I should at least congratulate myself.

Who else would care for me in this sewer? With that sentiment.

And so, scraping together every last penny, he bought a slice of cake and settled in a corner of his usual pub, even sticking in a long candle and lighting it.

Then, reviving a faint melody from his hometown, he clapped his hands.

Congratulations on your first anniversary.

Congratulations on your first anniversary.

Proud Ji-i-in.

Congratulations on your first anniversary.

Woo-hoo.

Just as Jin finished the muted song and blew out the candle -

「???」━━━━━━━━━

NEO ?? ??? ????

??? ?? ???? ?????

?? ??? ?? ?? ????

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Jin's expression crumpled at the semi-transparent window that appeared before his eyes.

"Shit..."

A curse naturally slipped out.

This damn quest window popped up at every opportunity without proper hints, ruining people's moods.

Jin hated the quest window.

Beyond hate, he despised it.

He was pissed off that it was all covered in question marks while claiming to be a quest, annoyed at its sudden appearances, and above all, he found its semi-transparent appearance that didn't match anything around him horrifying, as if it was saying your struggles are just a fake life seen through a monitor.

Because it felt like everything was being denied.

"Go away. It's a good day."

Jin waved his hand in the air.

Then forced a smile.

The cake he ate afterwards with anticipation was, good lord.

Disgustingly tasteless.

Jin's eyes twitched at the sponge-like texture.

He'd been had. They charged him an expensive price claiming to use 100% animal cream, only to be backstabbed like this again.

But what could he do?

His pockets were already light.

Thinking that it's all good, Jin silently ate the cake.

Today is a meaningful day, so don't get angry. Don't get irritated.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Of course, having no money left was a problem.

Jin lived day by day, earning just enough to eat.

Saving money as an individual in Downtown was like tattooing "Please kill me" on your forehead.

Being born on the streets where the concept of credit didn't exist, Jin couldn't even get a credit card, which also contributed to his day-to-day life.

Looking back, he had many regrets.

Ah. I should have just chosen a corporation or a family.

Why did I choose to be a nomad?

If he had chosen a corporation, he might be living a life of leisure, flipping through documents with a glass of wine somewhere in those skyscrapers instead of this hellhole slum of Downtown.

A family would have been good too.

Magic, swordsmanship, spirits, and so on.

If he had become a member of the purists inheriting the legacy of the past, that too would have surely been a noble life.

But a nomad?

The streets were a jungle of survival of the fittest.

If you don't understand its nature, you'll only be hunted.

In fact, the reason Jin chose nomad as his life path was because this background setting seemed cool.

To be honest, being born male, it's a setting that inevitably makes your blood boil, isn't it?

The city's strays who equate life with a desperate struggle.

A rough journey starting from the bottom.

With keywords exuding such badass vibes,

It's naturally more appealing than being a high-nosed silver spoon from birth.

But that's only a story for those who view this world from beyond the monitor.

Reality is incomparably more cruel.

In that sense, Jin had reason to celebrate today.

For managing to survive a year.

For being alive with all limbs intact.

"Hey."

It was a cocky voice.

Jin, who had been focused on his fork, raised his head at that voice.

His naturally slanted gaze met the eyes.

As expected, an unfamiliar face.

But in Downtown, you don't show respect just because it's your first meeting.

And Jin was no exception.

"What."

Jin mumbled while chewing his bread, inconspicuously rolling his eyes.

He saw men surrounding the table at some point.

One, two, three, four, five.

None equipped with cyberware.

No, wait. They could be internal types.

While Jin was silently sizing them up, the one who first greeted opened his mouth again.

"I heard you beat the shit out of our youngest."

"Huh?"

Jin tilted his head.

His narrowed eyes belatedly found a new face.

The one hiding behind the other men, maliciously glaring.

That bruised face looked somewhat familiar.

"Oh, you?"

Jin pointed at him with his index finger.

Recalling that the pickpocket who intentionally bumped his shoulder and snatched his wallet this morning had a face just like that.

"Didn't you say you'd never show your face again if I let you off just once?"

When he was about to break the wrist to punish those nasty hands, the guy had begged like a fly, saying:

Please let me off just once. I'll never show my face again.

So he had only smashed his nose before letting him go.

"Shut up! You son of a bitch. You're dead now, got it?"

Coming in a gang and shouting like this?

Jin sighed.

As he scraped the remaining cream on the plate and brought it to his mouth, the men watching started pulling out blades one by one.

A voice mixed with laughter came from beyond the knife tip that had quietly approached.

"If you messed up someone's face to that extent, you must have prepared some compensation, right? Bring it out. If it looks good enough, we might settle for just cutting off your arms and legs."

To which Jin replied, taking the fork out of his mouth:

"No money. Spent it all."

Then he stabbed the nearest man's thigh with the shiny fork.

"...?"

As if he hadn't calculated that a mere dining utensil would pierce through the fabric and deep into the flesh, the man's scream burst out a beat late.

"Aaargh!!"

In the meantime, Jin spun his hips and kicked the fork with only the handle sticking out.

The blade that dug in deeper touched the bone.

As a result, the bone that couldn't withstand the external force snapped, and an even louder scream filled the pub.

"You crazy bastard!"

"Kill him!"

When the companions belatedly came to their senses and shouted like that.

Jin was already up from his seat, throwing a punch.

Crack!

The fist that cut through the air smashed into the face of the man who had fallen to his knees.

A stream of blood drew a parabola following the tilted head.

Jin didn't stop.

He immediately turned and drove his knee into the stomach of another man rushing in.

With a sound of squeezing the lungs, he grabbed the tilting head from behind and slammed it on the table. Bang!

Cracks reminiscent of a meteor crater spread on the thin glass panel, and blood seeped between them.

At the same time, Jin loosened his grip on the hair he had tightly grasped.

He wanted to slam it down a few more times, but a knife was flying in right next to him.

Grab.

"...?!"

The man who hadn't expected him to grab the blade with his bare hand bulged his eyes.

But only for a moment. The man's eyes formed crescents.

If he just pulled the knife towards his body now, the fingers that met the wrong owner would fall off in droves.

So he pulled with all his might, but.

What's this? It's not budging?

"What?"

As the man was straining with bloodshot eyes at the sensation of the blade being caught as if in a rock crevice.

Jin's forehead rammed into the man's nose like a dump truck.

Blood bursting, yellow teeth flying.

At the same time, a voice from over his shoulder.

You son of a bitch!

Jin turned his body.

The blade grazed his cheek, and Jin's hand firmly grasped the opponent's neck.

He lifted it high and slammed it down roughly!

When the so-called choke slam hit the bare ground instead of a mat.

Bang!

With an unexpected gunshot, a hot sensation spread like paint from his right shoulder blade.

Jin furrowed his brow at the pain he could never get used to and turned his face.

He saw a man aiming a gun with a face twisted in rage.

"Die!"

The trigger was pulled with an enraged shout.

However, the fired bullet only shattered the innocent ceiling light.

It was because Jin, who had suddenly closed the distance, grabbed the man's wrist and forcibly lifted it.

"Wh-what kind of strength...!"

The man's face, struggling as if he couldn't believe the arm that had lost control, was inevitably met with a fist.

Jin snatched the gun from the hand of the man whose consciousness had flown away.

Then the muzzle pointing to the floor spat fire one by one towards the five fallen men.

Now there's only one left.

The pickpocket sitting on the floor trembled his chin.

The reason he hadn't run away earlier was because the fight that unfolded before his eyes ended too quickly.

"W-wait. Just a moment please."

Jin trudged towards the guy who was waving his hands while dragging his butt backwards.

"Hey."

"Yes? Y-yes yes yes."

"Do you know what day it is today?"

"Th-that..."

The pickpocket rolled his eyeballs.

What day is it today, out of the blue?

He had no idea, but if he said he didn't know, that seemed dangerous in its own way.

To the man who was hesitating, unable to open or close his mouth, Jin kindly gave the answer.

"The correct answer is it's my first anniversary."

"...? First anniversary? Do you have a l-lover?"

"You're talking nonsense."

Jin wiped his cheek with the back of his hand holding the gun.

Blood smeared down to his ear following the brushing touch.

"It's the first birthday of a loser who was crying for his mom at 30 years old. That's why I let it slide nicely today. Because it's a meaningful day."

"I-I don't understand what you're saying..."

"You don't need to."

Immediately after, a dry firing sound hit the ear.

A brass cartridge rolled on the floor, and the gun that had emptied its magazine just right stopped moving with the slide pushed back, from which a faint smell of gunpowder rose.

It was then that the pickpocket with a hole in his forehead fell face down.

Only then did Jin throw the gun that had served its purpose behind his back, then crouched down and started rummaging through the corpse.

Wait. Does this make me a pickpocket too?

No, dead people don't have ownership rights.

Do they? Whatever, even if they do, they don't here.

They might in Vietnam, but not in Downtown.

Damn slum.

Damn game.

Damn life.

After finishing his self-rationalization, he found a crumpled bundle of credits in his hand.

Jin placed more than half of it on the table as repair and cleaning costs.

If you don't want to be on bad terms with the owner, you have no choice.

That's how things worked in this field.

In fact, the owner, who had already loaded a shotgun, only quietly put down his arm after checking the bills on the table.

Jin slightly raised his hand to him before staggering out of the pub.

One step, two steps, three steps.

Leaving behind a day that was special only to himself.

The trail of blood drops following his tired footsteps eventually disappeared into the darkness of the street.