A small child, no older than five, stood in front of an old building. Its paint had faded to a dull gray, and the roof sagged where makeshift repairs had patched it over the years.
Inside, children's laughter spilled through the windows, punctuated by the scolding voices of adults trying to restore order.
But for the child standing outside, all those sounds felt distant, as if they entered one ear and left through the other.
"What's a child like you doing here?"
A voice spoke behind him.
The child turned. A middle-aged man stood there, a bag of food tucked against his chest with his left hand, small toys clutched in his right.
The man studied the child's face—blank, his eyes distant.
"Where are your parents, young one?"
However, the child showed no response and simply stared at him silently, as if observing something within him.
The middle-aged man, receiving no response, hesitated. He waited a moment longer, then decided to ignore the child for now, thinking he might be waiting for someone, and entered the building.
The child simply watched as the middle-aged man entered the building.
Mario was floating above, looking at his vaguely familiar surroundings. His eyes showed confusion as he did not understand what was happening.
'Where am I?... And why am I floating?'
Then his eyes fell toward the lonely child below. He observed him carefully, his brows furrowing in confusion.
He looked at the child's face carefully—more specifically, his emerald green eyes. He found them familiar, though they appeared somewhat cold and indifferent.
But then the middle-aged man came and spoke to the child. Mario's eyes widened in realization as he recognized him immediately.
"Director?" he muttered unconsciously, his voice tinged with surprise.
Though the man was younger and had more black hair than the director did now, he wouldn't mistake him for anyone else.
'I see… I'm in a dream,' he thought in realization, then tried to move only to find that he couldn't—as if he were stuck in place.
Eventually, he could only give up and continue watching from above.
The child outside heard the sound of children getting excited after the middle-aged man entered, then a woman's voice complaining and the children protesting.
After an hour of standing and looking at the building, the middle-aged man walked out again. His eyes showed surprise as he noticed the child.
The child was still there.
The man approached. "Why are you still here?"
The child only turned to him but remained unresponsive.
Despite receiving no response, the man continued to ask.
"Do you have parents?" the man asked. "Did anyone leave you here?"
At first, he expected to receive the same look and no clear answer, but to his surprise, the child's expression changed briefly before he shook his head slightly.
"Then why are you here?" the middle-aged man asked again.
But he received no answer again.
He hesitated slightly before asking, "...Do you want to come inside?"
The child, after a few moments of silence, nodded.
"Follow me inside," he gestured to the child before walking back inside.
The child followed him.
Inside, a man named Carlo looked up as the director returned—with a child following behind.
"Director… who's that?"
The director glanced back at the silent boy. "I don't know. He might be mute. He'll stay here until someone comes for him."
Mario continued to watch as the dream continued.
He saw how the child remained silent and expressionless no matter whether adults or children talked to him.
All the children were curious and tried to interact with him, but he remained silent, and only observed their faces.
Eventually, he was left alone by the other children.
From above, Mario watched the director quietly observe the child, noticing how the others left him alone.
A few weeks passed.
The director was the only one who stayed, speaking softly, telling stories, and teaching him to read—his presence alone was enough to keep the child company.
Other adults showed kindness, but he answered only the director—sometimes with a nod, sometimes a shake.
Mario exhaled quietly, watching the child read alone in the small room, only leaving when the director called.
At night, the child would always look out the window, watching the stars in the night sky.
Time passed.
Mario watched everything from the past two years, though he didn't truly feel the passage of time, as it simply moved forward.
He couldn't help but mutter, "Is this truly a dream?..."
'It feels too real…'
Suddenly, the child, watching the night sky, shifted his eyes slightly in Mario's direction.
Shhhhhh~
Mario didn't notice anything until he heard the faint sound of flowing water. Then his surroundings changed, and he found himself in a small room.
In front of him was an open box containing old but clean books. His hands, without his control, took out one of them.
He sat down on the floor beside the box, head lowered, and read the book in his hands.
—
Feeling the heat on his face, his eyes fluttered open. The light stabbed at them, and he raised his hand instinctively to shield them. Slowly, he pushed himself upright on the bed.
He yawned and stretched his arms upward.
For a moment he remained silent, but slowly the dream resurfaced in his mind—clear and vivid.
"What… was that?" he muttered.
At first, he thought it was a dream, but after the long two years—he thought differently.
He didn't remember how he ended up at the orphanage, but the dream was far too realistic and vivid to be a simple one.
Growl~
Feeling a pang in his stomach, he shook his head slightly and set the matter at the back of his mind.
He took out two pills from the bottle and turned off the battery lamp before walking outside and locking the door.
A mild heat bathed him. His eyes narrowed unconsciously from the light as he hurriedly proceeded to the southern part of the city.
He passed by the convenience store and bought bread and water.
Mario ate half the bread while walking and swallowed one of the nutrition pills with water.
He sealed the other half of the bread in its wrapper, planning to eat it later at lunch with the other nutrition pill.
After half an hour, a familiar scent of the sea entered his nose as he reached the southern part of the city.
He turned onto a different road away from the seafood market and headed toward the private warehouse where he worked.
"Good morning, Mario," one of the guards greeted him.
Mario put on his usual mask and greeted the guard back with the same smile he always wore in front of others. "Good morning to you too, sir."
A stronger fishy scent hit him the moment he entered, but he was already used to it.
He checked in with the timekeeper first, then sought out one of the fish loaders and asked politely, "Could you please help with the basin?"
His thin frame made the heavy containers impossible to manage alone.
With the help of the loader, they placed two basins of fish at his spot.
After that, he sat down, took out the knife at his side, and carefully unsheathed it before taking a fish from the basin and proceeding to clean it.
Time passed as Mario gutted and cleaned fish.
Suddenly, while he was working, he felt a familiar cooling sensation.
It appeared in his brain before descending and spreading to his limbs—especially his hands.
His brows furrowed at the sensation, briefly confused as to why it felt familiar.
However, before he could think about it deeply, a transparent panel appeared in front of him.
[Proficiency]
[Skill: Fish Cleaning — 0 Tier, Beginner 3/100]
[Unique Skill: Simulation (?)]
That's when it hit him.
'Right, I turned eighteen earlier…'
Because he was distracted by the strange dream earlier, he hadn't immediately remembered that he'd turned eighteen.
However, contrary to his expectations, he didn't feel much. He felt neither excited nor expectant at the prospect of the panel.
Instead, he felt nothing—empty.
He didn't dwell on his feelings as his eyes fell on something he hadn't known about.
[Unique Skill: Simulation (?)]
'Unique skill?...' His brows furrowed again, but remembering he was in the middle of work, he decided not to pay attention to it for now and continued cleaning fish.
Time passed, and break time came.
Every worker stopped what they were doing and headed toward the open space, holding their lunch boxes.
However, Mario didn't follow them. He first washed his hands and ate the other half of his bread with the pill before walking away and heading toward the owner's office.
He knocked on the door and waited for a few moments.
"Enter," a voice said from inside.
Mario entered and lightly closed the door behind him so as not to disturb the old man in front of him.
The old man lifted his head from the stack of papers and looked at Mario. A smile crept onto his face.
"Oh, it's you, Little Mario. What is it?"
Mario put on his usual mask and returned the smile, polite and practiced.
"Sir, I was hoping to take tomorrow off. I'd like to visit Director Mario—it's been about six months."
The old man paused, then nodded, his expression softening.
"Six months already, huh?" He chuckled. "Of course. Last time we talked, he was worried I might be working you too hard."
Mario let out a small, embarrassed laugh.
"I'll be sure to tell him you've been treating me well, sir."
"Good," the man said, amused. Then he waved a hand. "Before you go tomorrow, stop by here in the morning. I have something I want you to pass along to him. And tell him I'll have to decline drinks—business will keep me busy for the next couple of months."
"I understand, sir," Mario replied. "I'll let him know. Thank you."
The old man nodded, already turning back to his papers. After that, Mario quietly took his leave and returned to work.
He returned to his spot and spent the rest of the time working.
Time passed.
Mario finally finished his quota for the day and lined up behind other workers to receive his day's salary.
When it was his turn, he received twenty copper coins and walked out of the warehouse.
Before returning home, he passed by the convenience store. He bought charcoal and a bottle of nutrition pills.
After reaching his home, he immediately cooked himself food, as he couldn't suppress the hunger anymore.
***
Mario exhaled after eating and didn't immediately wash his dirty dishes, letting them sit on the table.
For a few minutes he remained silently seated before he called up the panel in his mind. His eyes paused at the unique skill.
"What is this?" Confused, his index finger hovered over the transparent panel before pressing (?).
[Simulation: Allows the user to perform a simulation once a month and receive the memories from the simulation. The simulated version of the user has no awareness of the unique skill or the memories from the simulation. To use the skill, simply say "start simulation."
(Note: The user might experience certain side effects from the simulation memories; however, there is also a benefit. Please find out for yourself.)]
The description felt strangely personal, as if it were speaking directly to him. Mario dismissed the thought and said in a low voice, "Start simulation."
After a few moments, something appeared in front of him.
[Simulation starting…]