Chapter 9: Shadows of Responsibility
CANDIDATE NAME: ROOK
Status: Reincarnated
Path: Knowledge
Class: Thaumaturge Escamoteur
Grade of Class: Ordinary
Class Description: You are a genius jester whose tools are deception and illusions.
Skills:
Misdirection (Passive): Attention naturally drifts away from you when desired. Success depends on the surrounding noise and distractions. Ineffective in quiet, focused environments.
Sleight of Hand (Active): Your fingers move quicker than eyes can follow. Useful for theft, planting objects, or subtle tricks. Works best when unnoticed.
Attribute: (1 out of 5)
Attribute's name. The Fool
Attribute's description: You are a fool who is mocked by fate "
Attribute's effect. : You have a Fool's luck
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Luke sat on the edge of a damp crate, staring blankly at his status screen.
The longer he looked, the heavier his chest felt.
His so-called skills? Sleight of Hand. Misdirection.
They were more like tricks that belonged on a street corner than useful skills that he could utilize.
Especially not in a world of vagrants, gangs, and killers.
And then there was his grand attribute: The Fool.
Luke let out a long, tired sigh.
"Really?" he muttered to himself. "A clown build? That's my big reincarnation gift?"
The lack of combat techniques burned at him. Sure, the Knowledge Path sounded nice at the start, but if he'd known it determined his whole class… well, he never would've picked it.
Not that he'd had much of a choice. The truth was, nobody from his world really understood this place. The government only had half-baked theories, about terraces shaped by imagination, nightmare beasts born from fear. All wrong.
The reality? This world looked almost normal. Too normal. The streets, the shadows, even the people. The only difference was the chaos, gangs carving up turf, poverty gnawing at everyone's bones, and strange powers cropping up in the worst places.
"Honestly who even came up with the World of Imagination theory?" silently pondered Luke.
Now he began to understand why most people never returned from this world.
Luke at this moment rubbed his forehead, as another mystery popped up in his mind.
Does everyone have a class? Or is that just for us otherworlders? Another question with no answer.
Closing the system panel, he let out another sigh and dragged a hand down his face. Shadows crept across the walls, stretched thin by the flickering candle. Now and then he swore he saw faces in them, staring back at him.
"Reincarnation, gangsters, vagrants, and now a little sister …" His whisper sounded dry even to his own ears. "I've got way too much on my plate."
A soft sound made him glance sideways. Rin was curled up a few feet away, knees hugged to her chest, fast asleep. Even in rest, her face stayed tense, brows pinched like she was bracing for another blow. She'd argued hard to go rescue Melissa immediately. Luke had to scrape together every excuse he could, gangs prowling the tunnels, enemies waiting in the dark, the danger of moving without Nick. In the end, he convinced her to wait till morning. Barely.
Watching her like this tugged at him in a way he didn't understand.
"She's not my sister," he muttered. "Not really. So why the hell do I feel like this?" He pressed a hand to his chest. "Is this… Rook's feelings bleeding through?"
The thought gave him a headache. Dead or not, Rook still lingered in this body, his emotions spilling into Luke's decisions. And that meant Rin had become his burden too.
Luke looked away from her, fixing his eyes on the crates. She twitched in her sleep, shoulders jerking at phantom sounds. He couldn't blame her. This alcove didn't exactly scream safe.
The space was cramped, messy, and damp, lit by a single candle that stank of tallow. Crates and old blankets made up their furniture.
Luke leaned forward, elbows on his knees. Okay, think. What's next?
The vagrant mess. That was the heart of it.
From Rin's stories and what he'd seen, the sewers weren't just home to vagrants, and they were carved into territories, each ruled by someone infamous.
Meg in the north.
Gloria in the south.
Anthestan in the west.
Doro in the east.
Each name carried weight and authority. These four figures were the individuals who possessed enough power to triumph over the rest of the vagrants here.
And here in the south, there was Gloria, who kept every vagrant in check and disliked immoral behaviors Naturally in a chaotic society like this, this made the fearless vagrant woman be disliked by the strong of this people, and be adored by the weak.
This made Gloria the weakest powerhouse of the sewers.
And given that chaos was spreading in Gloria's territory like a wildfire. Someone likely the other leaders, had made a move against her, and if Rin was right, that shift was exactly why enemies were crawling out of the dark. Gloria's fall meant the siblings had lost the one shield keeping the wolves away.
Apparently Luke and Nick also seemed to have lots of enemies in the sewers. And it was only because of Gloria's protection did they survive comfortably here.
Luke clenched his jaw. Honestly what the hell did Rook do to earn this much hate?
He rubbed his face again, the weight of it all pressing down. He didn't want to get involved in sewer politics. Didn't want to play in some bloody tug-of-war between monsters and outcasts. But reality didn't care what he wanted.
He'd pissed off one of the city's gangs. The streets were closed to him. The sewers were all he had left. And if the vagrants tore each other apart down here, he'd have nowhere to hide.
Luke leaned back, staring into the shadows. "Damn it… I really don't have a choice, do I?"
His words hung in the damp air. The candle hissed, struggling against the sewer's draft. Rin stirred, blinking awake like she'd been listening in her sleep. Her dark eyes locked on him, sharp even through her exhaustion.
"You're talking to yourself again," she muttered. Her voice was scratchy but steady. "That's never a good sign."
Luke gave her a weak smile. "Yeah, well, talking to myself is safer than talking to everyone else in this dump."
She just gave a low chuckle and seemingly tried to go back to sleep.
That was when they heard the sound of footsteps.
They came slowly, but loud enough.
Luke's senses went on high alert as he went to grab a rusted pipe that layed not so far away from him.
A moment later a familiar figure entered the dimly lit alcove.
A dark-haired boy with a pale expression. He was covered in bruises and blood.
Luke instantly recognized him as one of the figures from Rook's memories. The person he had always trusted.
At the same time, Rin's soft voice echoed in the silence.
"Nick"