Legs crossed on the floor, pale eyes locked on a few wrinkled bills spread out like fallen leaves. The boy counted them under his breath, then again, slower. It still wasn't enough.
A knock broke the silence.
"Kid?"
A pause.
"You know what day it is, right?"
Ark didn't move right away. Just stayed there, staring at the door like it might let him be.
Another knock. Louder this time.
"Don't make me stand out here."
He flinched. Pushed himself up. His legs wobbled as he crossed the room, fingers fumbling with the cheap door lock.
It stuck for a second. Then clicked open.
He pulled the door halfway.
Reeves stood there — worn-out hoodie, messy stubble, plastic bag in one hand. His eyes swept the room behind Ark, then landed on him.
"This is the third time, kid."
He didn't sound angry. Just tired.
"I can't keep letting this slide."
Ark gripped the edge of the door tighter.
"I know. I… I'll have it. Next month, I'll pay everything. Promise."
Reeves let out a breath. It wasn't quite a sigh — more like frustration pushed down and swallowed.
"You're not the only one behind, you get that?"
He paused.
"One month. That's all I can give."
Ark nodded quickly, eyes still low.
The bag rustled.
"You eating?"
Ark didn't answer.
Reeves handed him the bag anyway.
"Leftovers. Don't waste 'em."
Then he turned and walked off, mumbling something to himself on the stairs.
Ark stood frozen. One hand still on the doorknob. The other gripping the plastic bag so tight it crinkled.
He shut the door slowly. The knob slipped from his fingers.
Then he leaned his back against the wood and slid down, legs folding under him again.
The plastic bag of leftovers sat beside him on the floor, still warm.
He didn't touch it.
"When is it going to end…?"
He said it under his breath, barely loud enough to hear himself.
The room was silent. Just the faint buzz of an old ceiling light and the distant sound of a car passing outside.
It wasn't much of a place — cracked walls, a sagging mattress in the corner, a secondhand fan that didn't work half the time. But it was his. For now.
He didn't remember much about his parents. Or if they were ever in the picture to begin with. He grew up in an orphanage on the outskirts of the city — the kind of place people forgot about. Cold, quiet, a little too empty even when it was full.
When he was twelve, it shut down. No reason. One day the staff left. Then the kids. And then him.
He tried to keep going. Picked a public school that didn't care much about paperwork. Took whatever part-time jobs would let him work under the table. Found this room a year ago — cheap rent, no questions asked.
Now he was sixteen, barely getting by.
He looked at the bag of food again, but didn't move.
"Well… at least I got some food," he muttered, cracking a small, humorless smile. "Thanks, landlord."
The bag crinkled as he opened it. The smell of reheated rice and oily meat filled the room. Not great — but better than nothing.
He finished the last bite and pushed the empty container aside.
Standing up, he stretched his stiff legs and grabbed his worn backpack.
The sun was already high outside, cutting through the dusty window.
No point in wasting any more time.
Ark was halfway out the door when he heard a soft plop behind him.
He turned around.
The blue slime had somehow wriggled out from under the bed again, now sitting in the middle of the dusty floor. It gave a slow little jiggle, barely moving.
Ark squinted. "…You're awake?"
The slime didn't respond. Just blinked. Slowly.
He sighed and grabbed his bag. "I'm leaving. Don't eat the wall again."
He turned to go.
Plop.
He looked back.
The slime had followed. It wobbled after him with tiny, slow hops — more like rolling than walking — and bumped gently into his foot.
Ark stared at it for a moment. "…You want to come?"
The slime blinked once. Then nuzzled against his shoe like a lazy cat made of jelly.
Ark rubbed the back of his neck, grumbling. "You're gonna get squished, dummy…"
The slime let out a quiet blurble, then slowly tipped over on its side. Still.
He looked at the pouch on his backpack.
"…Tch. Whatever."
A minute later, the slime was curled up inside the bag's side pocket, its soft body squishing perfectly into place.
Ark gave it a cautious glance. "Don't melt anything."
The slime wiggled once, then went still.
He shut the door and stepped out into the morning light — a boy, his worn bag, and a slime quietly jiggling at his side.
The moment Ark stepped out of the building with his bag slung over one shoulder, the sun was already climbing. He rubbed his eyes and yawned.
Up above, something big flew by.
He looked up and saw a wyvern soaring over the street. Two students in clean uniforms sat on its back, laughing as the wind carried them toward the school.
Ark squinted and frowned.
"Rich bastards," he mumbled.
His bag twitched.
The small blue slime popped its head out of the half-zipped pocket, wiggling as if it wanted to see too.
Ark glanced at it.
"We're walking," he said.
The slime gave a little bounce, then slowly slipped back into the bag without a sound.
Ark adjusted the strap on his shoulder and kept walking. The street was busy with other students, some riding magical pets, some chasing after them. A kid passed by dragging a tiny serpent on a leash, half asleep.
Same routine. Same noise.
As he crossed the alley, boots crunching against old stone, a voice cut in.
"Morning zombie."
Ark didn't even look up before an arm locked around his neck from the side. He grunted.
"Seriously?"
Mike laughed, pulling him into a one-armed headlock before letting go. "You're always like this in the morning. You need more sleep. Or food. Or both."
Ark straightened his jacket with a grumble. "And you need to stop sneaking up on people."
Mike stood beside him now, a head taller, with a small griffin perched on his shoulder. The creature looked young—barely the size of a cat—with sharp, curious eyes and soft feathers. It stared at Ark's satchel like it knew something was hiding inside.
"Is that…" Mike leaned in slightly. "That slime again? The one you found a while back?"
Ark gave a slow nod. "Yeah. She's still with me."
The griffin chirped once, tilting its head. The slime shifted slightly in the bag but didn't rise. Just a faint wiggle, like it was listening.
Mike glanced from the satchel to Ark. "You really kept her?"
Ark's voice was low. "Yeah."
He didn't explain it. Didn't say how he'd found her one evening behind a garbage bin—chewing through wrappers, too small to defend itself even from rats. Or how people walked past without seeing her at all.
He understood that feeling.
"She's kinda weird," Mike said, not unkindly. "But I guess… she suits you."
Ark gave a small shrug. "She's not bothering anyone."
They started walking again, past crumbling walls and broken lanterns. The street slowly widened as the Academy gates came into view up ahead. Students were already gathering—groups chatting, some on pets, some walking.
A few eyes turned toward Mike.
No one noticed Ark.
Mike didn't say anything about it. He just kept walking beside him, the griffin perched quietly, Eve nestled out of sight.
The school gates stood wide open, but no one noticed Ark walking through them.
They noticed Mike, though.
A group of students waved the moment he stepped in, their eyes drawn to the small griffin on his shoulder, its feathers catching the morning light.
"Yo, Mike!"
"Is that Peter? He's grown!"
Mike smiled, nodded back. He didn't slow down, just kept walking — and Ark, as usual, walked beside him like a shadow no one cared to see.
They reached the classroom. As soon as Mike entered, a few heads turned. Some offered greetings. Some just stared at the griffin.
Ark walked in after. No one said anything.
He sat near the back, kept his bag close. The slime inside made a faint wiggle, but no one noticed — not that they would've cared if they did.
Class started. Then it kept going. A long blur of words, chalk on the board, a clock that moved too slow.
---
By lunch, the classroom emptied out fast.
Mike waited at the door, waving Ark over. "Let's go."
They found their usual quiet spot under a half-dead tree near the wall.
The branches barely held onto their few withered leaves, but it was still better than the noisy cafeteria.
Mike dropped his bag beside him and pulled out his lunchbox with a casual ease. Ark sat down across from him, eyes scanning the cracked pavement instead of the food.
Mike popped open his lunchbox and offered a sandwich. "Here, you want some?"
Ark shook his head, voice soft. "Thanks, but I'm good."
Mike shrugged and took a bite himself, glancing sideways. "You sure? You always look like you're about to starve."
Ark forced a small smile but didn't say anything.
After a moment, Mike leaned back against the tree and asked, "Look, if you ever need help with rent or anything, just say the word. I don't want you struggling alone."
Ark's eyes flicked up, meeting Mike's for a second. Then he looked away, voice steady but quiet. "I can manage. I don't want to be a leech."
Mike gave a short laugh. "You're not a leech. You're my friend. Friends help each other."
Ark said nothing, fingers tapping the ground.
The sun shifted overhead as the school bell rang faintly in the distance.
"Class starts soon," Mike said, standing up and stretching.
Ark stood too, slinging his backpack over one shoulder.
---
The rest of the day passed like usual.
Dust in the sunlight, tired eyes, the low drone of teachers trying their best.
Ark sat in the second row, barely keeping his head up. Beside him, Mike passed him a doodle of Peter wearing glasses and failing a test. Ark didn't smile, but he tapped the edge of the paper with his finger. That was enough for Mike.
The bell finally rang.
Chairs scraped. Voices rose. Someone shouted for their missing book.
Ark stood up and slung his satchel over his shoulder. The little blue slime inside shifted slightly, but didn't wake.
Mike joined him by the door, Peter already roosting on his shoulder like a sleepy bird.
"You off to work again?" Mike asked, trying to sound casual.
Ark nodded. "Yeah."
They stepped outside. The sky was a mellow orange now, shadows stretching long across the stone path.
"You'll be okay?" Mike asked.
"I always am," Ark replied.
They stopped near the gates. Mike hesitated, then gave Ark a solid pat on the shoulder — nothing dramatic. Just enough.
"Alright. See you tomorrow, zombie."
"See you, rich kid."
Ark turned and headed toward the town.
---
Ark walked alone, hands in his pockets, as the sky dimmed to a deep grey. Streetlights flickered on one by one, casting long shadows on the cracked sidewalk. His part-time job wasn't far — just a few more blocks through the quieter side of town.
The streets were mostly empty. Just the occasional car passing by. Just the sound of his own footsteps.
He turned down a side street he always used — narrower, older. That's when he noticed something strange up ahead.
Two people stood by the wall of a small alley. A man and a woman. At first, he thought they were just arguing. But then he saw the man shove her, hard.
"Let go of me," the woman snapped. Her voice shook, caught between anger and fear.
Ark slowed down.
The man—taller, wiry, with a hood pulled low—had a grip on her arm. His body leaned forward, too close.
"I just want to talk," he said.
The woman yanked her arm back. "You've been following me since the station. I said no."
Before Ark could decide whether to turn around or cross the street, the woman broke free. She ran—fast—heading straight down the sidewalk. Her eyes flicked to Ark, just for a moment, but she didn't stop. She brushed past him, breath catching, one hand gripping her bag.
The man chased after her.
Ark stepped forward, instinct tightening in his chest. He didn't think. He just moved—to block the man's path, to slow him down.
"Hey—"
The man was already moving when Ark stepped in front of him.
"Move!" he barked, trying to shove Ark out of the way.
Ark pushed back, not really thinking—just reacting.
That's when it happened.
The man had the knife in his hand, and in the tangle of arms and movement, the blade slipped forward—straight into Ark's side.
Both of them froze.
There was a moment of silence.
The man looked down, saw the knife buried partway into Ark, and his face went pale. His hand shook as he pulled it back.
"I—I didn't mean to," he mumbled, backing up a step, then another.
Then he turned and ran.
Ark stayed standing, barely. One hand clutched his side. His fingers came away wet.
Ark staggered backward, his hand pressing against his side.
Wet.
Warm.
When he looked down, his fingers were stained deep red. Blood. His blood.
He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
Everything started to feel far away — the sounds, the street, even his own heartbeat. His knees gave out, and he dropped to the ground, his shoulder slamming against the concrete.
His vision swam. He blinked slowly.
The sky above him blurred.
His chest rose once.
Then again.
Then… slower.
The cold started to settle in.
His arm twitched, reaching for nothing.
And then — everything faded.
Darkness swallowed him whole. His body crumpled to the ground without a sound.
Minutes passed in silence.
From his half-open backpack, a small blue slime slowly oozed out.
It made a soft, wet sound as it plopped onto the ground. It didn't seem to understand what had happened. It didn't cry out. It didn't panic.
It just looked at him.
A faint golden light slipped out from Ark's chest.
The slime twitched.
The light hovered for a moment, then drifted into the slime's body.
Its blue color began to change. Slowly. Bit by bit. A soft flush of pink spread through it like a ripple.
The slime inched forward. It pressed against Ark's arm.
There was no sound. Only the faint glow where they touched.
Somewhere deep inside Ark, something stirred.
[Skill: Present Form – Activating]