I slept on this morally ambiguous decision twice, before finally deciding to go through with it. My final argument had been the fact that there were no losers in this situation, and that Cain could go and join the main cast later on, once I’d settle in more in this world.
With that decision made, the preparations phase began.
I spent a few evenings ignoring Etienne’s messages, and looking into the biolab that held Cain. They had been mentioned in the book by name, but, unsurprisingly, typing ‘Statos Inc’ into Google didn’t yield any results. I had to take a deeper dive. After searching many combinations of key words, on different browsers, and social media, I finally found what I was looking for.
His name was Alonzo Rossi, and, bless the five lords, he was an S-rank idiot. His whole page was dedicated to writing blogs about his life. He never mentioned his job, but he wore a blue lab uniform in several of his pictures, with the ‘Statos Inc’ logo printed on it. This was actually how I had found him, by doing image-searches of his logo which I had manipulated in a drawing software to warp around at different angles.
As I continued my research, I realised that my victory was short-lived. Although Alonzo was an idiot, he wasn’t as stupid as I first thought. He never posted any locations, or any kind of personal information. Every picture was taken either during a hike, at touristic sights in large cities like Geneva, or in unidentifiable rooms.
Well, that was actually already a clue, since he seemed to come to Geneva quite often. Which meant he either lived nearby or had a reason to go there this often.
After a few more hours of stalking, which quickly turned into an all-nighter, I managed to find his LinkedIn profile. There, he mostly shared posts about his work on cellular mitosis, which didn’t help me much. But I did find a personal blog entry about a hike that had impacted him a lot. Apparently, there was a several-century old oak tree somewhere within walking distance of his home, and he had braved the Wild Land it was in to go and see it. He went on and on about how this whole experience helped him grow as a person, and allowed for him to discover a new side of his humanity.
I had to listen to this bullshit, having put the post through a text to voice app, while I was looking up locations of Wild Lands around Geneva. Thankfully that tree seemed to be somewhat of a local cryptid, as not every hiker seemed to be able to find it. There was more lore about how the branches of the tree would point towards one’s destiny, but I had stopped reading at that point.
I circled the presumed location of that tree on a printed-out map of the area, and went back to my research.
It took a few more days, but I had managed to work out the routine of this ‘distracted’ Statos Inc employee. He worked three days in a row, Monday-Wednesday. Then had a day off, then worked one more day, then had the weekend off. Although, he would work on Thursdays on occasion, he mostly spent those days sight-seeing in Geneva. On those days, he’d always have lunch in some very basic touristy restaurant, and would never return to the same place twice. Then, he’d go on a walk through town, and if the weather was nice enough, he’d take a boat tour on the lake.
On the weekends, he liked to hike or stay in.
Hence, my best plan of action was to fly down there on Wednesday, and lurk around the main boat renting port.
Of course, I needed an excuse to sit there all day, in a way that wouldn’t arouse suspicion. Thankfully the original Laura had left around just the right tools. She seemed to have been a fair bit into painting, and owned a stupid amount of art supplies. I had, of course, put those away, but pretending to be an artist seemed to be the perfect way to hide in plain sight. Plus, I hoped my array of passive skills would help in the matter.
Speaking of skills, in the hours I didn’t spend stalking my new friend Alozo, I tried to look up online what my skills did. Just like the first few times I had tried doing that after waking up in this world, my search didn’t yield any reliable or accessible information. There were of course plenty of YouTube videos demonstrating the effects of various skills, but their comment sections and rating ratios indicated they weren’t to be trusted.
The one helpful YouTube channel I did manage to find was a foraging/upcycling type blog that was run by a hunter and his husband. I knew their content was trustworthy because they didn’t focus on demonstrating skills in a flashy way, but rather used them as tools in their daily lives. Thus, I learned that ‘Blacktrack’ allows you to faster memorise the layout of unfamiliar land, and retrace your steps to the millimetre when you wanted to return home.
There was also a consensus online that ‘Metamorph’ allowed users to shape-shift, but all those demonstrating the skill had it at least at mid-level, if not high-level. I, on the other hand, only every got the same System message when I tried using it:
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Metamorph
Conditions not met.
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Phase two of my plan involved using my father’s money to buy a teleportation item, and procuring myself some sort of weapon.
The former served as an alternative to airplane flights, as the item could be activated within a certain radius of a pre-installed gate. Airplane flights were somewhat dangerous, as the planes, which on a sidenote where much smaller than those in my old world, had to often fly over vast Wild Lands. They were of course equipped with defence mechanisms, but those who could use teleportation items did so, especially for long journeys.
The item came in the form of three small yellow gems, each only a few centimetres in diameter, and irregular in shape. To use it, the user had to crush it in their hands, and think of a destination.
I needed one gem to get to Geneva, and two for the return.
Thankfully there was a train station not far from my house which was equipped with a gate, so the distance I’d have to cover by foot was minimal. Geneva also had several gates, one at its main airport, and a few at its large train stations. I had them all marked on a printed-out map. The exact gate we’d take would depend on the location of the lab.
“Now, where was it?” I wondered out loud as I rampaged through my flat.
Laura owned a sword. A medium length straight-blade katana, which I was pretty sure was illegal to store in an apartment, so I had put it somewhere where it wouldn’t be found. Issue was, I couldn’t remember where.
My backpack and the pile of stuff that needed to go into it for the journey, all of which currently laid on the floor by my bed, didn’t make the search any easier.
“Oh, fuck it.” I decided.
Memoire
I kneeled by the bed, and pulled out an old carboard box from under it. The box had previously held a wooden easel, which now served as a jacket rack.
I put a bundle of fabric, in which the sword was well-hidden, into the box, before taping it shut, and shoving it back under the bed.
I then put my shoes in a neat row around it, completely hiding the box.
MP - 1
“Right.” I said, as I dove under the bed to get the sword out.
I had never used a sword before, but having it on my person did give me an added sense of safety. Thankfully there were no security checks at the teleportation gate, as there was no way to harm other passengers during the voyage, since there were no other passengers, or voyage. The teleportation happened instantly, and most places didn’t even bother with identity checks, as once someone had crossed the gate, they were no longer that country’s problem.
The blade was a little longer than my forearm. Its handle was beautifully wrapped in crimson cord, and its scabbard was made out of a monolithic piece of dark wood. The wood had red veins running through it, and I wasn’t sure if that was part of the original design, or if the wood had cracked with time and exposure, and the cracks had been filled with resin.
The weapon felt old, especially in contrast to the leather ‘holster’ it came with. But I couldn’t complain, as the holster fit my hips perfectly, and made the sword easy to reach.
Before putting it with the rest of my stuff, I decided to check if the blade itself was still fine. It had been the first time I’d found it, but I preferred to be safe rather than sorry.
I slowly slid the blade out of its scabbard. Its surface was smooth, without a single nick or scratch. It wasn’t made of metal though, but some kind of white, stone-like material that was cold to the touch, but very well-balanced. For a second, I didn’t recognise the pair of green eyes staring back at me form the reflection in the blade. Then I tilted it on its side, changing the angle and making the reflection disappear.
“I won’t use to kill anyone.” I suddenly spoke, as if pledging to the blade. “Only to defend myself or the kid. And even then, I will only maim and injure.”
I slid the katana back into its wooden housing before adding:
“Not that I have the skill to decide that anyway, but I will try.”
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Phase three, and perhaps the hardest phase of my plan was telling everyone at work I would be taking a few days off for ‘family reasons’.
Surprisingly enough, Manon posed the least resistance, as she simply looked at me with disdain before approving my requested leave. She seemed to think my grandma was dying because I could not afford hospital bills, or something of the sort, and hence did not put up much resistance.
Etienne did not let go of the issue as easily.
“Where are you going?” He asked for the hundredth time that day.
It was Tuesday afternoon. I was due to leave for Geneva that evening, with a hotel booked and all (might as well enjoy the trip, since my father was paying for it), and was too tired to put up with his misplaced worry. The past ten days had been exhausting, with very little sleep and a lot of stalking, so I unintentionally snapped at him:
“The kitchen Etienne! Literally downstairs. I need to get more almond milk. I won’t die, but if you insist, you can come with me and leave the counter unattended.”
He looked away, upset, and didn’t answer.
I immediately felt bad, but there was nothing I could do. If I explained to him where I was going, he’d ask even more questions, and might even insist on going with me. I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to bother him, or put him in any danger. Afterall, I couldn’t die but he could.
With a sour expression, I swore to myself to make it up to him when I’d get back.