A young man, no more than thirty, sat at a modest desk. In his left hand, he held a bottle of aged rum, and in his right, his cell phone, which displayed two messages from different recipients.
One was from his landlord, an elderly man with more wrinkles than gray hairs on his prominent bald head. It read: "Eviction tomorrow for non-payment."
The other message, from an unknown number, simply said: "Come pick up your father's body tomorrow."
Unbelievable, he thought. How had his life ended up like this? He didn't even know, as he took the last sip of his rum.
"Seriously, how come I hate stockbrokers?" he muttered to himself, almost deliriously. "Seriously, I'm unbelievable."
Despite everything that had happened to him, he felt more happy than sad. After all, that very morning he had gained the power to use energy in this chaotic world. His Sunqu Magic had awakened.
Playing with his hands and concentrating some of that chaotic, almost repulsive energy, he formed a book. As far as he understood, each user of Sunqu Magic was different; in short, each possessed a distinct power.
Before he knew it, he had fallen asleep, possibly from the rum or perhaps from overusing his Sunqu Magic that day. The truth was, who knew? Nothing mattered anymore. After all, in this world, being able to use energy was everything.
*Sounds of a wall being torn down*
A loud crash jolted him awake, along with the blinding light that streamed through the hole in his bedroom wall. It was a heroine from the association who had just burst into his room; a bit rude, on second thought.
--Hello, I'm Flora, rank 45 heroine, and I've come to find you. You're probably wondering why they sent me, the beautiful and magnificent one, aren't you?-- the woman with almost dark green hair continued.
"What an annoying woman. Not only did she wake me up, but besides breaking through the wall and smelling of earth and plants, she was yelling like crazy. She's irritating," he thought to himself.
-No, not really- he said, like a vampire, pulling the covers up to shield himself from the sunlight.
Without realizing it, a vine was already starting to lift not only him, but the entire bed as well. The woman, ignoring his wishes, swept him into her arms and headed toward the Hero Association in that city.
But he wasn't going to let that happen. He certainly couldn't compete against a seasoned hero, but the Association itself hadn't called him a prodigy the day before; his skill was unbelievable in this world.
The next instant, a book and a quill appeared in his hands. Without hesitation, ambient energy flowed through his Sunqu Magic, reaching his hands, and then he wrote: Teleportation.
--Annoying-- the woman said, feeling the weight on the vines lessen considerably. Sensing the energy forming within her, she had at least a hunch about what had happened.
The teleportation took him to his old house, or rather, his parents' house, in a neighborhood where money was worth about as much as a pair of designer shoes. He saw a man in a suit knocking on the door. "Unexpected and convenient," he thought.
--I take it you work at the funeral home, sir-- he said, slowly approaching the man in the doorway.
--If that's true…-- Before he could finish the sentence, the man jumped. For two reasons: the guy who had just spoken to him from behind looked more dead than alive, and his nose was bleeding, so he tried to offer him a handkerchief.
Remembering that he had been drinking the day before and, thanks to the heroin, hadn't had time to tidy himself up, he tried to understand the man in front of him, only to realize that even he had a nosebleed.
How curious, he thought. For someone who had never used the world's energy, much less understood the desire that emanated from his Sunqu Magic, being able to stand after using such energy was unusual, which only reaffirmed what the Hero Association had already told him.
"It's incredible, maybe it's the adrenaline, but the truth is, even in this state, I don't feel tired, maybe a little fatigued," he thought to himself, before realizing that the funeral home employee was already feeling uncomfortable with his prolonged silence.
--I'm sorry, it's because of my father's death. I still feel a little... you know, exhausted-- It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the truth either. Oh well, it didn't matter.
--Yes, well, that's why I came, actually-- he said, taking out some papers for him to sign. --Everything's almost ready. You just have to sign, and if you want, you can stop by the cemetery before the burial.--
--Efficient and repulsive-- he thought. No, wait a minute, he wasn't thinking; he was thinking about something else entirely.
A tear began to slowly slide down his back, but without letting it startle him, he continued signing the papers.
"Is this how I should react to his death? Knowing him, it should." Another jolt. Something, without a doubt, was trying to tell him something.
Just as he finished signing, he felt his body collapse.
--Well, I'm leaving-- said the funeral director, not caring what happened next, and left as quickly as he had arrived.
His steps felt heavy, as if he were walking in wet shoes; he couldn't focus his eyes on the door in front of him as he approached, and sweat dripped from his chest.
"Ugh, seriously, even dead you're a problem, Dad," he muttered, unable to walk any further, and collapsed on the threshold of his father's house.