Chapter 5: Moving On

I took Dr. Melinda’s words to heart that I should move on. My attempts to recover my past had been frustrating, so I decided to focus on building a new life. For example, I took up my old hobby—playing fighting games. It was something I remembered enjoying, a small piece of my past that felt familiar and comforting.

Every Sunday, I would spare time to visit the local arcade. It was a bit of a throwback to a simpler time, filled with the sounds of clinking coins, electronic beeps, and the cheers of other players. The arcade was a small, dimly lit place with neon lights flickering in the corners and the smell of popcorn and soda lingering in the air.

The fighting games section was my favorite. Rows of machines stood against the wall, each one featuring different characters and combat styles. I gravitated towards the classics, games I vaguely remembered playing before my memory loss. Street Fighter, Tekken, Mortal Kombat—these were my old companions.

I spent hours hunched over the controls, fingers flying across the buttons as I executed combos and special moves. The rush of adrenaline and the satisfaction of winning a match brought a sense of normalcy, a temporary escape from the complexities of my life. It was a routine I cherished, a way to unwind and lose myself in the moment.

One particular Sunday, I found myself engaged in a fierce match against a seasoned player. He was a tall, lanky guy with a mop of messy hair and a grin that screamed confidence. He went by the name "Raven" in the arcade community, and he was known for his aggressive playstyle.

"Ready for another beating?" Raven teased, his fingers already poised over the buttons.

"We'll see about that," I replied, smirking. I was determined to give him a run for his money.

The match began, and the intensity of the game quickly drew a small crowd. We traded blows, our characters dancing across the screen in a flurry of punches and kicks. I focused on every move, my mind sharp and alert, blocking out everything else.

Out of habit, I used my power— I discarded my emotions and began moving my character like a machine. I inwardly scolded myself for the act, so I forcibly shut down my power and purely played with my skills.

Raven was good, but I held my ground, countering his attacks and finding openings to strike back. The match dragged on, each round more intense than the last. The crowd around us grew, cheering and gasping with every combo.

"Come on, you can do it!" someone shouted from the sidelines.

I felt a surge of determination, my fingers moving even faster. In the final round, I executed a perfect combo, depleting Raven's health bar and securing my victory. The crowd erupted in applause, and Raven chuckled, shaking his head.

"Not bad, not bad at all," he said, extending his hand. "You’ve got skills."

"Thanks," I replied, shaking his hand. "You’re not too shabby yourself."

We chatted for a while, exchanging tips and tricks about the game. Raven was a regular at the arcade, and he introduced me to a few other players. It felt good to be part of a community, even if it was just a small group of fighting game enthusiasts.

To be honest, I didn’t like being an ‘extra’ since coming to this world. When I first arrived, I hoped for a golden cheat, something that would make me invincible in this world of superheroes and villains. I expected some hidden power, a mysterious past, or a secret mentor to guide me. But none of that happened. Eventually, I despaired, feeling lost and powerless. However, I eventually rose up stronger than before, learning to adapt and make the best of my situation.

Looking back, I realized how foolish I had been to expect such things. Now, I felt like I could live with my circumstances. I didn’t know when it began, but I found myself liking the idea of being a nobody. Losing memories of my past life from another world must have changed me more than I thought.

“Hey, do you want to play air hockey?” Raven asked, his eyes twinkling with excitement.

“Sure,” I replied, matching his grin.

We made our way to the air hockey table, the smooth surface gleaming under the neon lights. Raven and I had become good friends over the past few weeks I’ve been frequenting the arcade, often challenging each other to various games. It was a welcome distraction from the complexities of my life and a way to feel normal.

We each took our positions, gripping the paddles and eyeing the puck that lay in the center. Raven served first, hitting the puck with a swift, practiced motion. The game began in earnest, the puck gliding back and forth at lightning speed.

Raven scored the first goal, pumping his fist in triumph. “Gotcha!” he exclaimed, his competitive spirit shining through.

“Nice shot,” I admitted, resetting the puck. “But don’t get too comfortable.”

The game continued, each of us scoring points and exchanging playful banter. The crowd around us cheered and laughed, adding to the lively atmosphere. It was easy to lose track of time in the arcade, the hours slipping by as we immersed ourselves in the games.

By the time the match ended, Raven had won by a single point. We were both breathless and laughing, the intensity of the game leaving us exhilarated.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

“That was close,” I said, wiping sweat from my forehead. “You’ve gotten better.”

“You too,” Raven replied, clapping me on the back. “Let’s grab a drink. My treat.”

Raven eagerly scanned the menu as we approached the concession stand, his eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. “Zorange, please!” he exclaimed, pointing to the orange-colored carbonated drink that seemed to be his favorite.

It didn’t remind me of anything but I reckoned similar drinks existed in my past life.

I chuckled at his excitement. “I can do some pineapple juice,” I said, nodding to the brightly colored bottle behind the counter. “I need the vitamin C to stay healthy.”

Raven turned to the counter and added, “Also some snacks, please!”

The cheerful young woman quickly prepared our orders with a bright smile. She handed Raven his Zorange and a bag of mixed snacks and passed me my pineapple juice. We thanked her and made our way to a nearby table.

We settled into our seats, the buzz of the arcade around us providing familiar, comforting background noise. Raven took a long sip of his Zorange, his expression turning slightly serious.

"Hey, real talk," he began, looking at me intently. "What do you do for a living?"

I took a moment, gathering my thoughts. "I own a hotdog cart," I replied. "I’m saving money to buy a small truck, maybe make a hotdog truck. But recently, I’ve been thinking about switching to an ice cream truck. I love ice cream, but it doesn’t really satiate hunger, so I should probably stick with hotdogs."

Raven’s eyes lit up with amusement. "Oh, we have a businessman here!"

He pulled open his snack's plastic wrapper wider, gesturing for me to take some. It was a nice gesture, showing his willingness to share. The snack looked like small prawn chips. I took a handful and stuffed them into my mouth. They were a bit spicy, but not overwhelmingly so.

I could tell Raven was younger than me, but his casual way of speaking put me at ease. I didn’t mind at all. "You greedy fucker," Raven said, laughing.

"Hah! I’ll have to tell you," I retorted with a grin. "I plan to own several mobile food stand trucks. Once I’m rich, I’d treat you to this same snack. I’m generous, aren’t I?"

Raven rolled his eyes playfully. "That’s a stupid dream. How much do you make a day anyway?"

I leaned back in my chair, thinking for a moment. "Two thousand credits on a bad day, three thousand on a good day, and six thousand on a very good day. And I’m telling you, there are more ‘very good days’ than bad days. That’s telling a lot, right?"

Raven whistled, clearly impressed. "Wow, that’s actually pretty good. I might have underestimated you."

I smiled, feeling a sense of pride in my work. "Yeah, it’s not bad. It’s honest work, and it gives me something to strive for."

Raven leaned back in his chair, smirking slightly as he took another sip of his Zorange. "Yeah, but it’s still chump change, nothing big."

I raised an eyebrow, taken aback by his bluntness. "Excuse me?"

Raven leaned in closer, his expression turning contemplatively as if he was imparting me great wisdom. "Listen here, my dear friend… If you want to raise a business, then you need more capital. Kane City isn’t really forgiving for aspiring businessmen."

I nodded slowly, understanding what he meant. Since my transmigration to this world, I have been struggling tooth and nail to get by. It had been over seven months, and every step forward felt like pushing against a strong current. I recalled the early days when I would get into trouble on a weekly basis from vagrants and two-bit thugs while trying to establish my hotdog cart.

There were days when I barely made enough to cover my costs, and nights when I questioned if this world would ever give me a break. I remembered the fear and uncertainty that came with each altercation, the constant vigilance required to protect my meager earnings. It had been a harsh introduction to the reality of life in Kane City.

Now, I had some stability in life… my efforts have accumulated over time, and now I could breathe so much easier. Still, it galled me how preposterous Raven just dismissed my hard work.

Raven's words stung because they were true. I needed more than just determination and good food to succeed here. Capital was essential, and without it, my dreams of expanding my business would remain just that—dreams.

"You're right," I admitted, my voice subdued. "It hasn’t been easy. I’ve had to fight for every bit of success."

Raven’s expression softened slightly. "I get it, man. This city chews up people like us and spits us out if we’re not careful. But you’ve got potential. You’ve got the drive. You just need to find a way to get that capital."

I appreciated his encouragement, even if his initial words had been harsh. It was a reality check, a reminder that I couldn’t afford to get complacent. "I’ll figure it out," I said, determination hardening in my voice. "I’ve come this far, haven’t I?"

Raven leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “There is a part-time job I know, and we are short of one guy, so—”

“Is it legal?” I interrupted, raising an eyebrow.

Raven laughed, waving off my concern. “Of course, it is legal. It pays good dough, ten thousand credits per delivery. Very generous, eh? I know it sounds suspicious, but hear me out.”

A courier job that would pay 10K per delivery? Of course, it was suspicious! With this kind of work, you’d earn 70K credits a week if you delivered even just once a day… It was crazy. It sounded too good to be true!

I leaned back in my chair, skepticism etched across my face. “Ten thousand credits per delivery? That’s insane. What’s the catch?”

Raven’s grin widened. “No catch, just a bit of risk. The job involves delivering packages to various locations around the city. The packages are time-sensitive, and you need to be quick and discreet.”

No matter how you spun the story, it sounded like this was a part of a criminal scheme.

The offer was tempting. Ten thousand credits per delivery could significantly boost my savings and bring me closer to my goal of owning a food truck. But the risk? Was it worth it?

I frowned, still unsure. “Why me? Why do you need someone else?”

Raven shrugged. “The usual guy bailed, and we need someone reliable. You’ve got the skills, and you’re trustworthy. Plus, you could use the extra cash, right?”

He had a point. The money would be a game-changer for me. But the risks were real, and the offer was undeniably shady. I had to think this through carefully.

“What exactly are the packages?” I asked the obvious.

Raven’s expression turned into a haughty smile. “There is no package.”

"What?" I asked, my confusion evident.

"The ‘package’ itself is empty, so there isn’t much risk to it, really," Raven explained with a confident tone. "Do you understand? In fact, there is no risk at all! I told you, it isn’t illegal! It is free money. As your good friend, I am sharing the blessings! This is a rare opportunity since the slots usually get filled up quickly."

I frowned, the whole thing sounding too good to be true. "I am flattered you thought of me, but no."

Raven blinked, taken aback. "What?"

"I refuse," I repeated, my voice firm.

Raven’s face darkened, and for a moment, I saw a flash of anger in his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, but then he closed it, shaking his head instead. He must have known why I declined. Simply put, I’ve seen through him— there was no free lunch in this world— while I wasn’t exactly a believer in that saying, there was wisdom in listening to it.

This generous offer of Raven just reeked of suspicion, thus I had to decline. Free lunch existed in this world, the kind that mom would bring to me, but Raven wasn’t my mom.

That day, my friendship with Raven ended.