A full day had passed since Casper was reborn into this world. Sometimes he convinced himself it was just a long dream… one he'd wake up from sooner or later.
But he never woke up.
Everything around him was disturbingly real, too tangible for any sane mind to doubt it.
He sat on the rickety wooden bed, staring at the cracked ceiling, listening to the steady drip of water from the corner of the room.
The room they'd given him was little more than a cell, with rusted windows and a thin blanket that is not suitable for a mild winter. He reached into his pocket and found nothing but a worn scrap of paper and a small key.
He sighed, muttering sarcastically:
"So… a former serial killer, broke, homeless, heartless… seems I was brought back to life just to live as a beggar. How poetic."
He stood up slowly and walked to the small window, barely letting any light through.
Outside, a dirt road stretched ahead. People passed in gray clothes, their faces were dull and lifeless.
"Even their expressions are dead… am I the only living one here? Or the only corpse that still walks?"
A cold smile touched his lips, one of those smiles that comes before danger. He sat on the wooden chair, his fingers interlocked beneath his chin.
"Maybe I should start over… thieves live better than killers, don't they? At least no one punishes a thief, unless he fails."
He chuckled quietly, tilting his head, the dim light flickering against his eyes.
"But who said I'll fail?"
He went silent for a while, staring at his hands. The old scars were gone. His skin was smooth, unblemished like a child's. But his soul… hadn't changed.
"Maybe I wasn't reborn to be cleansed… but to finish what I started."
Casper lay down on the creaky bed, one arm behind his head, eyes fixed on the decaying ceiling. Suddenly, a faint blue glow emerged from nowhere, the system window materialized in front of him:
[⚠︎ System Warning]
User has not activated magical energy.
Remaining time: 24 hours
Failure to activate will result in: Automatic death.
He stared at the words in silence for several seconds, then let out a short mad laugh.
Raising his hand toward the screen as if to touch it, he said with a cold amused tone:
"Perfect… a new world, a new body, and a system that wants me dead in a day."
He turned his head to the side, his eyes glinting oddly.
"Activate magic energy, huh? Sounds awfully familiar…"
He closed his eyes for a moment and began to remember.
"Yes… that old game. I used to play it every night. A hell filled with blood… and the same damn system. If you didn't kill someone before the timer ended, your head will be exploded."
He laughed again… this time louder and more hysterical:
"So the same rule applies here… life in exchange for blood."
He sat up on the bed, speaking louder, his voice is echoing faintly in the small room:
"Is this a test? Or are you, system, trying to see how insane I really am? Because I assure you—"
A grin crept across his face.
"—I passed every test long ago."
He extended his hand into the air, his fingers slicing through the light as if he's tearing a digital curtain.
"Magic energy, blood, limited time… all that's missing now is the first victim."
Then he whispered with a half-smile, and half-closed eyes:
"And I'll find one before the day ends."
At that moment, the door creaked open sharply, and a young soldier entered, holding a metal tray. He placed it on the table without looking at Casper.
He said coldly:
"Your meal, newcomer."
Casper lifted his head slowly, staring at the plate. A sour smell of meat filled the air, twisted chunks that didn't look like they came from any normal creature.
He asked mockingly:
"This is… food?"
The soldier shrugged.
"Monster entrails. Soldier rations. Don't like it? Then starve."
Casper was silent for a few seconds, then took a rusty fork, cut off a small piece, and put it in his mouth. He chewed slowly… then froze. His face stiffened before he spat the bite violently onto the floor.
He looked up at the soldier with a cold eyes, something dark lurking underneath.
"Are you… mocking me?"
The soldier stepped back. Casper stood up, moving with unnerving calm. His voice came out soft:
"You know… I have a bad habit. When I'm served food I don't like… I find a new meal."
He took one step closer. The soldier's hand instinctively went to his knife, but Casper was faster. In a blink, his fingers slipped into the man's pocket and pulled the weapon free. He held the blade up, twirling it between his fingers like a toy.
Casper smiled faintly, his voice was low and calm:
"Maybe… I'll start with you."
The soldier froze. Casper moved closer until only air separated them, his gray eyes reflecting in the soldier's trembling ones.
"Listen carefully,"
He whispered.
"You're going to bring me real food. Cooked meat. Soft bread. Something that makes me forget I'm in this filthy hole."
He rotated the knife slowly along his own palm, the edge scraping skin without drawing pain.
"And if you don't…"
He leaned close, his voice dropping to a whisper by the soldier's ear:
"I'll give this blade back to you… through a different route."
Then he slid the knife back towards the man's belt with a light jab, just enough to remind him.
He sat down again and said quietly:
"Now go. And do as I said."
The soldier backed out on shaking legs, closing the door slowly behind him. Casper stared again at the miserable meal, then spat on it once more. He sat there in total silence, until nearly an hour passed.
He heard footsteps returning down the corridor. The door opened again, and the same soldier entered carrying another tray.
The soldier said while trying to sound casual:
"Here… I brought what you asked for."
Casper looked up at him, then at the tray. A blackened piece of meat reeking of rot. Stale bread, hard as stone. A dead fly beside it.
He remained silent for a long moment, then gave a reassuring, almost gentle smile.
"Oh… wonderful. Looks better than before. Didn't think you'd try so hard."
The soldier hesitated, uncertain whether to stay or flee. Casper chuckled softly, slicing off a piece of the rotten meat, putting it in his mouth, and chewing slowly.
Then he murmured quietly:
"You know… it's not bad. It has something… nostalgic. Smells like old blood."
The soldier stiffened. Casper set the meat down and stood up slowly, step by step.
He stopped right before him, his eyes gleaming unnaturally, his smile is fading into silence.
In a smooth and cold voice, he said:
"But there's one problem… I don't like being deceived."
In a flash, he lunged. The stolen knife appeared in his hand as if he's conjured from nowhere. He stabbed the soldier in the stomach first, then the chest, then the throat. Each thrust was deeper than the last, each one accompanied by a quiet, broken laugh.
The soldier screamed:
"I'm sorry! I—I couldn't give you clean food… the commander… he forbade it—!"
Blood splattered across the wall, the bed, and Casper's face. He breathed slowly, as though savoring every passing second. Then the system window appeared again, glowing dark crimson before him:
[⚠︎ System Alert]
Killing Instinct Level: 100%
Maximum Reached.
Casper looked at the message and smiled, raising his blood-soaked hand before driving the knife down one last time, until the body went limp.
When he was sure the man was dead, Casper stood amidst the blood, breathing deeply as though he's emerging from a sacred ritual. He looked at the chaos around him, then dragged a chair and sat in the middle of it, idly spinning the knife between his fingers, laughing softly in that sick, distant tone.
"Good food isn't about ingredients… it's about who purifies it first."
After a moment, he stood and walked towards the small kitchen, lighting the old stove. The hiss of gas and the spark of flame mingled with his low chuckle.
As he turned something over in the pan, he muttered mockingly:
"Look now, soldier… you finally made me a meal worth tasting."
The air filled with a sharp smell… half smoke, half blood. He sat near the stove, watching the flame with calm, lifeless eyes, and whispered:
"This world thinks it can tame me… but it forgets… hunger always wins."
When he finished, he lifted a piece from the pan and bit into it slowly. He chewed in silence with closed eyes, as if the taste was awakening an old memory.
Then he opened them again and said quietly, with a dry voice:
"Better than any restaurant in my previous life."
He set the piece down, smiled faintly, and licked the dry blood from his fingers. In the reflection of the flickering flame, his face showed the calm satisfaction of a man who knew he was beginning to enjoy the madness.