(Day 1)

  7:45 A.M.

  I'm still sitting here, trying to make sense of everything that just happened. Nothing about this makes sense.

  Did I really just reincarnate into the world of Rainfall Disorder? But… the last thing I remember, I was at home. How did a truck hit me? Or… wait, maybe it was a stroke?

  I really don't know. My life wasn't exactly healthy—staying up all night playing Rainfall Disorder, eating junk food, and never exercising. But then again, having a stroke at 22 seems a bit much, doesn't it?

  The whole thing feels like a bad dream. Or maybe I fell into some space-time rift, but when I look in the mirror, the face staring back at me is completely unfamiliar.

  "System?" I murmur, half-expecting some kind of voice or window to pop up.

  Nothing.

  I call out again. "Status Bar?"

  Still nothing. This is… strange.

  "So I'm not a Player?" I whisper to myself. If I were, the system should have already appeared to guide me, right?

  But no, there's nothing. And then there's my appearance, so different from the main characters in the game. I look like someone you'd find in the background, an extra.

  No, not an extra, please. Not that! I think to myself.

  Rainfall Disorder is notorious for its Extra NPCs Randomized System. Basically, it randomly generates characters—names, races, stats, personalities, and appearances—just to make the game more unpredictable. And it's clear to me now: I'm an extra.

  Typical stuff.

  I walk around this "house" trying to make sense of my surroundings.

  Wait… this is it? This is my home? I live alone in a cramped flat with barely any furniture. The whole place feels empty, except for an old steel sword in the middle of the bedroom.

  My previous character must have been a swordsman… probably a poor orphan, too. How original.

  I sigh. At this point, I'm not even sure what to do with myself. I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask to be reincarnated into this world.

  I take a deep breath. "I just want to survive. I don't want to die like a pathetic loser… again."

  I rub my eyes and glance at my wristwatch. There's got to be something useful on it. The status bar should be accessible through the watch.

  After fumbling with it for a few moments, the window finally appears before my eyes.

  "First things first… let's see my name."

  [Name: Amemura Ryoshu]

  I blink. Amemura Ryoshu? That's not my real name. Why did they choose that?

  I'll figure it out later. Focus, Ryoshu. Focus.

  I scroll down to the next line.

  [Mana: (Null)]

  Sigh. I knew it.

  Players don't always get Mana, but it's one of the most crucial stats for combat. Without it, survival is going to be a pain.

  Great. That's just great.

  I skim the rest of the stats.

  [Strength (F-)

  Endurance (F-)

  Agility (F-)

  Perception (F-)]

  This is... bad. My stats are practically nonexistent. My character's weaker than the average person. But hey, at least these stats can be improved with some good old-fashioned practice. That is something.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  I continue scrolling hopelessly.

  [Charisma (Unranked)

  Regeneration (F-)

  Intelligence (F+)]

  Thank goodness for the F+ in Intelligence.

  One of the most important tips for new players: Buy passive skills to boost experience. Luckily, my Intelligence is high enough to meet that requirement.

  Then I check my account balance.

  [Account balance: 100 RC.]

  Well, at least I'm not completely broke, right?

  But still, 100 RC isn't enough to buy any useful skills. I still need at least 150 RC to buy the bare minimum.

  Black Market, then?

  The Black Market—where you can buy things that are illegal or just plain shady—seems like the only option. Not exactly where I want to be, but I'm running out of choices.

  Rainfall Disorder is vast. It's got three main paths you can take: become a hero at Spiral Academy, join the mercenaries, or be a villain. Each path has its own challenges.

  But for me, a freaking extra? It doesn't even matter.

  Let's just go to the Black Market...

  9:00 A.M.

  After what feels like forever, I arrive at a small bar called Angels' Whiskey. It's one of the main places to access the Black Market.

  I check my outfit in the mirror—just a simple hoodie, nothing too obvious. Hopefully, no one will notice me.

  I walk inside, and the eyes of everyone in the bar immediately flick to me. I can feel the weight of their gazes.

  I sit at a table, trying to remain calm. Fake it until you make it, I remind myself.

  A waiter approaches, eyes still sharp. "What would you like to drink?"

  "I'll have a glass of Joel's Madam."

  The bartender didn't immediately respond, his gaze lingering on me for a moment.

  "…"

  "Please wait a moment," he finally said, his voice steady but his eyes giving nothing away.

  So the password is still active. Fortunately, it had not changed by the time I arrived.

  The server, holding a glass bottle of wine, poured a glass and asked again.

  "Do you want to use something else?"

  Now that's easy, a plate of [Sweet and Sour Dragon Ribs], right?

  "How about a plate of [Sweet and Sour Dragon Ribs]?" I ask, trying to follow the old protocols for the Black Market.

  "Sorry, customer, we're out of stock today."

  Damn it. I panic inside. If I mess this up again, they'll kick me out.

  I have to stay calm. Think fast, think fast.

  One wrong word, and I'd be out of the bar in seconds.

  Come on, think! Say something!

  "No problem."

  Wait, no, that's not it!

  The password, the password!

  I scrambled for the right words. It has to be that one, right?

  "How about a plate of [Mapo Tofu] then?"

  My heart pounded as I waited for his response. Please let this be it.

  Please, please let this be right.

  "...Will you pay directly or use a bank account?"

  A wave of relief washes over me.

  "Cash, please."

  The server gestured with a wave, and another one swiftly appeared, bowing to me with practiced grace.

  "Then, sir, please follow me."

  I rose from my seat and followed the newly arrived waitress, her footsteps echoing softly in the corridor. We moved in silence for a while, the only sound being the faint hum of the bar behind us.

  She came to a stop in front of a door, which she opened with a quiet motion.

  "Please, step into this room," she said, her voice calm and neutral.

  Without a second thought, I stepped inside, my expression unchanged.

  "Have a wonderful trip, sir," she added, and the door closed behind me with a soft click.

  And with that, her words lingered in the air—my last clear memory before whatever was to come next.

  9:30 A.M.

  The atmosphere shifts. It's like I'm transported to a different world, the noise from the crowd overwhelming as soon as I open my eyes.

  I'm in a crowded, grimy slum, surrounded by people moving like a wave. There's no real chatter—just cold silence.

  I'm not sure what I was expecting, but this is… worse. The tension in the air is thick, like danger is lurking around every corner.

  I need to move faster.

  Weaving through the crowded marketplace, a small stall catches my eye, its display cluttered with trinkets and oddities. Amid the chaos, a sleek, dark mask stands out. Its simple yet captivating design seems appealing to me.

  "How much for this?" I ask the elderly vendor.

  "5 RC, kid," she replies without looking up.

  A fair price. I place the coins in her wrinkled palm and lift the mask. The moment I slip it on, a strange sense of comfort washes over me, like I've just hidden a part of myself from the world. At least now, I won't stand out so much.

  After that, I went as planned.

  While I was window shopping, someone suddenly grabbed my neck from behind.

  Someone grabs me from behind, a rough hand on my neck.

  A dull voice whispers in my ear, "Oh, how familiar this mask looks, right? You little rat?"

  I freeze. This is bad.

  The old man starts dragging me through the crowd, and my heart pounds in my chest.

  At least the mask is hiding my face.

  Who is this guy? And why does he look so familiar?