♪♫ In our headlights, staring, bleak, beer cans, deer’s eyes
On the asphalt underneath, our crushed plans, and my lies
Lonely street signs, powerlines, they keep on flashing, flashing by ♪
[Snooze / Stop]
*tap*
[Alarm stopped. Good morning!]
Mmm-ahh. *cough*
I groaned and turned to my side. My single-bed apartment was neatly dark with red curtains covering the window. The faint light peeping through was enough to tell me it was morning, but really nothing more. I grabbed my phone from the bedside desk and looked at the date.
Ugh. Another day of work? I really sold my soul for money, didn’t I?
[New journal entry: December 13, 2021]
– Hola Hugo. You started a new day, but it’s just going to be a repeat of the one before, and the one before, and the one before. You’ve been living like this for who knows how long? When do you stop earning money, Hugo? When do you start living?
– I fear I might die before I get to live.
– That might really be a good thing…
[Entry saved.]
----------------------------------------
My name is Hugo. I’ll be 27 tomorrow. I’ve been living the life of a corporate slave for the past ten years. If I said I didn’t know why I chose this life, I would be lying. I know very well how things turned this way. It was my decision after all.
I used to have a family, but not anymore. It’s not a story I like remembering too often. I was always distant from them, perhaps because that’s how I was raised. But somewhere along the way, I stopped caring about anything– even myself. If I had a roof over my head, food to eat, and novels to read, I couldn’t ask for anything more. But that’s not a life my family approved of.
Don’t misunderstand me. I wasn’t one of those NEETs you’ve heard of in different stories. I started working freelance very early on and earned enough for my needs. At some point, I got into this habit of just saving as much money as I could. I thought I could spend it on something, get somewhere in life. But I was entirely clueless. So, I just kept working and saving my money.
Unfortunately, money doesn’t go unnoticed when you’re not spending it visibly. My family thought I was loaded, and you could say that I was, relatively speaking. But it wasn’t any amount to bicker over. I didn’t hit any jackpot. I was just saving for a long time.
We got into some fights about my habit of saving too much. I wasn’t even contributing much to the family. In hindsight, I can understand why they’d be upset with me. I was glad they didn’t kick me out of the house when I was earning enough to get by and save on the side. But I guess somewhere along the line, they felt that I owed them something. I never felt that way.
It feels wrong to me that I must repay their kindness with money. Maybe I am wrong, I couldn’t tell you otherwise. But that’s what I’ve always felt, even now. I guess I was being selfish, at least because I was never bothered about their expectations. But that was not a thought I had at the time. I had no reason to think otherwise either since most of my savings were stolen from me.
On the day that happened, I was randomly going through my excel file where I calculated my savings and all the gigs that I was doing to make that money. I didn’t like banks because of their fees and tiring procedures. Plus, I never felt like I should get an account since my earnings never seemed too great to me. Clearly, I was wrong, and I realized that when I found my locker broken with the money missing in its entirety.
The suspicion kept pouring in and I was unable to immediately make sense of that situation. Would you really doubt your loving family? But the bickering came to mind, and I just couldn’t let go of that thought. I ended up saying just the right amount of the wrong things.
Once I accused my parents and siblings, the situation in the house became a living hell for me. They behaved like they knew nothing of it, but it’s not like anything else in the house went missing. I ended up leaving that place with a bare minimum of my stuff without telling any of them. The next morning, I was already in another city with the bit of money I had in my mobile wallet.
That’s when I found the job where I’m working now. Without a roof over my head someone else paid for, it wasn’t enough to earn through small-time freelancing gigs. I was upset with my family, but they never contacted me after I left home. A year later, they couldn’t anymore either– they’d all died from an accident.
I’ve felt guilty years down the line. I often pondered how I’d still be in their debt even if I assumed that they only took the money that was spent on my upbringing. I was a kid drunk in his fantasies, so I couldn’t do anything for them when I had the opportunity. Or at least that’s what I told myself so I could come to terms with everything that had happened. They never once contacted me, and I had moved on already. It’s just… I never got over it. They were still family.
Since then, I’ve only been Hugo. I couldn’t carry the weight of that family name. I’ve never tried to have a family again. I’ve dated a few times, but my lifestyle wasn’t very suited for romance. What girl would want to stay with me when I valued my work more than I valued them? It’s not like I really loved my job or anything either. I just found solace in being busy all the time, and at some point, I’d conditioned myself into finding happiness in that kind of life.
I’m good at my job, and I received promotions when they’re due. But the pressure of work has never decreased. About 6 years after I started this job, I found myself devoid of the energy I once had. There was no joy in working anymore. More importantly, being busy couldn’t sustain my grieving soul any longer.
But I continued, and I persisted, and that led me to become a model salaryman, a corporate slave. It’s been ten years in this job, nine since that accident.
If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
----------------------------------------
I talk to myself a lot. Maybe it’s because I don’t have anyone that I can share my burden with. Talking to myself has helped me keep my sanity at times, so it has become a habit of sorts. Sometimes I’ll space out in public and not notice what people are saying to me. That led me to the next situation…
A pregnant woman at the bus stop has been talking to me for quite a while. I was certain of that because I was supposed to board the bus half an hour ago. I spaced out for too long this time… but… how do I get out of this conversation?
“Do you understand what I mean?” the lady continued, “Why is it my fault? I didn’t ask for any of this. He is the one to blame. I thought maybe he wouldn’t hit me anymore if we had a baby. Maybe he would turn for the better.”
At this point, she began sobbing and I started getting stares from random people passing by. “If I knew he would just leave me, why would I do so much?” she said as she continued sobbing. I guess this scene could easily be misleading. If I wasn’t convinced before that I had to leave, I just got convinced.
“Lady”, I called out to her for the first time in the conversation, “I’m sorry for your ruined marriage, and I know you meant well, but your unborn child doesn’t owe you anything.” She flinched a little as she turned towards me with a surprised look on her face, and I continued, “You never had the courage to stand up for yourself, and you hoped a child would do that for you? You’re the parent. When you give birth to a child, do so with the capability of giving that child a happy and welcoming environment. It’s good that your husband left you because he might’ve started hitting the kid instead.”
And I looked her in the eye with a cold stare, “Your kid doesn’t owe you anything. You made the conscious decision to have a child. Your kid never consented to this life. The least you can do is not bring a child into this world just to torture yourself and that child.”
She seemed oddly convinced as I finished saying that. “Thank you…” she told me as she stood up, “I was conceited, wasn’t I? I only cared about myself, not my child. But… I don’t think I’m strong enough to give him a good life. The least I can do…”
She didn’t look at me as she said this, but I could tell she was hiding her tears. Whatever, I thought, It’s not my responsibility. If she aborted the child, it would be the best for her and her kid. Rather a child isn’t born than being born in an unwelcoming world.
I could see a few buses in the distance, but none of them were supposed to stop at this place. A deep sigh left me as I realized what a mess my day at work was going to be. I hope they won’t punish me and reduce my salary for the month.
As I wondered about the excuses I could give my boss, I saw the woman walking away faster in the corner of my eye. I paced after her, why exactly, I’m not sure. I just felt that I needed to. She wasn’t stopping either, even after I called out to her a few times. She was heading towards the main road, and I ran after her as fast as I could.
The woman ran with a vigor I never would’ve expected from someone pregnant with a child. I could feel the adrenaline kicking in, with no sense of fear remaining. I wasn’t thinking anymore, I was just reacting. It was a weird sensation, running after her like that. Did I think my life would amount to something by doing this? Nah. If I were thinking, I never would’ve started running after her. But it was too late to think about anything at that point.
I grabbed her clothes by the neck and pulled her back, but the momentum ended up pushing me in front of a speeding bus instead. I tried to see if she were safe.
*thwap*
???
I was knocked out by the bus she was trying to jump in front of. I couldn’t see her anymore, and not for the lack of trying. My chest was in violent pain all over, and the dizzy feeling in my head was no solace to the situation. My consciousness was fading, but it wasn’t like any death I’d ever dreamed about. The pain was numbing soon after, and I could no longer make sense of anything around me. It was all fading.
At that moment, I had a thought. Am I dying? Ah. I couldn’t get to live. It’s all right. It’s all right. Meaningless things should end quickly.
----------------------------------------
I was in a hospital bed when I woke up. The first thing I thought of was that accident, and the second thing was my job. Given the kind of job I had, I was sure they’d give me a hard time. These corporate bosses don’t care if you’re alive. They won’t fire you straight away when you’re in an accident, but they’ll make the environment toxic enough that you’ll think about quitting the job yourself. Just thinking about all that made me feel sick.
“Dylan… are you okay?” a woman in her mid-twenties said to me very softly. I was still lying down so I didn’t notice her before this. With her hair tied in a ponytail, she looked at me with endearing blue eyes. As I kept looking at her anxious face, my heart began to throb uncontrollably, and I felt like a thousand needles were going in and out of my eyes.
I shut my eyes trying to escape the pain, but it wasn’t getting any better. She held on to me trying to calm me down, but the warmth of her hands felt more like torture. Yet I couldn’t tell her to take her hands away– I was in too much pain. After another half a minute or so, the pain subsided gradually. I began remembering a life different from my own, yet still vividly mine.
“Mom?”, I asked with a hint of uncertainty. “Are you okay, dear? How’s your head?” She replied. Huh? Did something happen with… “my head?”
As I touched my head again, it was indeed bandaged. I was in excruciating pain just moments before, so I didn’t notice it then. And my hands… were that of a child. I looked at her again and assured her, “I’m okay now.” She looked greatly relieved at my response.
“Oh, you had your father and I worried. Do you need anything, anything you want to eat? Just tell me, okay?” While the offer was nice, it was still bizarre what was happening right in front of me. It wasn’t something I could easily come to terms with. “Could I get some water?”, I asked of her meekly. “Wow, did a ghost possess your body? Why are you being so polite? Just wait, I’ll get some water right away.”
Haha. She hit the nail on the head and based on these memories, I did too. My head, not the nail’s. Memories of a child named Dylan were overlapping with my own. I couldn’t make sense of everything right away, but I was certain of one thing– I wasn’t a ghost taking over Dylan’s body. The memories of this body seemed like my own. I wasn’t Hugo with the memories of Dylan, and I wasn’t Dylan with the memories of Hugo. I am Dylan… and Hugo.
And I could see some blue boxes in front of me with weird text on them… Why didn’t I notice this before? Was it even there just a moment ago?
Memories regained. Conditions met.
Skill: “Immortal Journal” unlocked.
Skill: “Foreboding” unlocked.
Title: “Reincarnate” obtained.
Title: “Awakened” obtained.
Congratulations! You have awakened the Obligation System.