I groaned, the sound dragging itself out of my throat like it had somewhere better to be. For a few seconds, I stayed exactly where I was—half-facedown on the floor, one arm folded under me at an angle that probably qualified as a workplace hazard.
I didn't move, didn't think, didn't even fully commit to breathing.
Mornings were a scam. Not the aesthetic kind people liked to pretend existed—soft light, quiet streets, whatever fantasy they sold in ads. No, this was the real version. The kind that hit you like your body had rebooted wrong and nobody bothered to fix the bugs.
"…I'm dead," I muttered into the floor.
"You wish."
The reply came too instantly. My eye twitched.
I pushed myself up slowly, like gravity had decided to increase my subscription fee overnight. My joints cracked in protest, and my brain loaded in late, struggling to keep up with basic functions like standing upright.
The mirror caught me mid-recovery, and I paused.
Yeah… no. My reflection would walk out at this sight.
My hair looked like it had been rendered in low settings and then corrupted halfway through. Strands pointed in directions that suggested intent, not accident. My shirt wasn't helping either—crooked buttons, uneven tuck, one sleeve flipped inside-out.
I stared at it for a moment, genuinely trying to figure out what went wrong.
"…How?"
"You did it yourself," The Unknown said. "There is no deeper mystery."
"Ves, that explains nothing."
"It explains everything."
I clicked my tongue, tugging at the sleeve with half-hearted effort before abandoning the idea entirely. Fixing it would require energy, and it happened to be scarce this morning.
"Why didn't you wake me up earlier?" I snapped instead, reaching for my bag.
It slipped straight out of my hand and hit the floor.
I looked at it, it looked back, and we both understood this was not going to be a productive morning.
I ignored it and hopped on one leg, trying to force my foot into my shoe. It resisted like it had a personal vendetta.
"Get in—get in—why are you fighting me?!"
"Because even your belongings lack faith in your decision-making."
"Shut up—"
"Also," he added, voice smooth with unnecessary patience, "please refrain from calling me 'Ves.' It lacks dignity."
"You lack dignity."
"I possess more than you, currently."
There was a brief pause while I tried, and failed, to argue with that.
"I didn't wake you earlier," he continued, almost pleasantly, "because observing your suffering remains one of the few consistent joys available to me."
I froze mid-motion, one foot half inside my shoe, my balance hanging by a thread.
"…You're actually the worst."
"And yet," he said, completely unbothered, "I remain your most reliable companion."
I forced my foot down harder than necessary, nearly losing my balance again.
"…Don't say that like it's deep."
"It is deep."
"No, it's creepy."
"Depth and discomfort often coexist."
"Ves, that's not—"
I let out a sharp exhale through my nose, finally getting my shoe on. I didn't even bother tying it properly. Then I shoved my arm through the stubborn sleeve again. This time it worked, though the shirt still looked like it had given up halfway through existing.
I didn't care.
Didn't have time to care.
Didn't have time for anything except—
"Crap—!"
By the time I stumbled out the door, I looked like I'd lost a fight with both time and basic coordination (which I actually did). My tie hung loose like it had already accepted defeat. My bag was barely closed, threatening to eject its contents with every step like it was trying to escape me.
The door slid shut behind me with a soft mechanical click, the lock sealing automatically with a faint blue glow along the frame. The hallway lights adjusted as I passed, sensors tracking movement with quiet efficiency, like the building cared more about functioning properly than I did.
I was already running.
"I'm late—again—!"
The moment I stepped outside, the air hit differently.
It was cold, but not the honest kind. It seemed processed. Every breath felt too clean like I was inhaling a brand new car rather than the atmosphere. I coughed, the dry air scratching my throat, and kept moving.
The city was a machine in mid-operation. Above, sleek carriers ghosted along the rails with a muffled whine. On the asphalt, cars adjusted their trajectories with silent, mathematical precision. Even the people were part of the circuit, their paths subtly corrected by embedded light-strips that pulsed in the pavement to prevent a collision before it could even begin.
Everything worked.
That was the problem.
The road curved where it always did—but the sidewalk beside it wasn't concrete anymore. It had been replaced with smooth, dark panels that faintly lit up under people's steps, like the ground was tracking them. The old convenience store on the corner was gone too. In its place stood a glass structure that shifted color depending on the angle you looked at it, its signage flickering between languages I didn't even recognize.
I slowed down without meaning to.
*…Wait.*
The buildings ahead stretched higher than I remembered. Their shapes didn't follow the usual straight lines anymore. Some leaned slightly, like they had grown instead of being built. Others had sections that hovered just a few inches off the main structure, connected by thin strands of light instead of anything solid.
A bus passed by me.
No—I can't call that sophisticated invention a bus.
It moved too quietly, gliding more than rolling, its surface reflecting the street like liquid metal. The doors slid open without a sound, and the people inside didn't even look up as it stopped.
"…Okay." I stared.
Nobody else reacted, not one person. They walked past it like this had always been normal.
A digital billboard above the street flickered, then stabilized—displaying a rotating diagram of something that looked like a human body… except parts of it were labeled with symbols instead of words. The text shifted again before I could read it properly.
My chest tightened.
"…Something's off."
"You don't say," The Unknown replied immediately.
I didn't even look at him. "No, I mean it. This isn't just—something feels—"
"Let me explain for the thousandth time," he cut in, voice laced with amusement. "The buildings changed, the vehicles changed, the technology jumped forward by about twenty to thirty decades. And you're only now noticing something's off."
I stopped walking.
"…Okay, when you put it like that, you make me look dumb."
"You are dumb."
I pushed forward, slipping into the flow of pedestrians. My movements were messy, but practiced—adjusting my steps, shifting my shoulders, narrowly avoiding collisions like someone who had turned running late into a daily skill.
Up ahead, a man stepped out without looking, coffee in hand. I reacted on instinct, twisting to the side—
Our shoulders clipped.
The cup tilted, liquid rising dangerously close to the edge.
"Watch it—!" the man snapped.
"Sorry!" I shot back, already moving past him.
As I pushed through the morning crowd, barely keeping my balance while trying not to trip over my own untied shoe, something bright flickered across my vision. At first, I ignored it. Kurokawa City was basically a competition of "who can install the biggest, loudest screen," so glowing billboards weren't exactly rare. But then another one lit up, and another, and another.
I slowed down without meaning to.
Every screen I passed—storefront displays, bus stop panels, even the massive billboard hanging over the intersection ahead—shifted at the same time. The usual ads and looping promotions vanished, replaced by something clean, minimal… official in a way that immediately felt odd.
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Global Notice: Classification System for 'Awakened Individuals' Established.
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I blinked mid-step, nearly walking straight into someone before swerving past them.
"…Awakened?" I muttered, my breath uneven from running.
"You're seeing it correctly," The Unknown replied.
"I didn't ask."
I frowned, but my eyes were already dragging back to the nearest screen like it owed me money. The display shifted again, smooth and deliberate, like whatever system was controlling it had no interest in being questioned.
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New Classification System Announced: F, E, D, C, B, A, S… SS… and Z Rank.
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My eyes narrowed slightly. "…Z?"
"What kind of ranking goes from S to SS and then just jumps to Z?" I muttered, half to myself.
"The kind that implies something beyond measurable limits," The Unknown replied smoothly.
I snorted. "…Or the kind that ran out of alphabets."
"That too."
More screens updated as I stood there, frozen in the middle of a very inconvenienced sidewalk. Footage began playing now—grainy clips of people doing things that definitely didn't obey the laws of physics. A man lifting a car like it weighed nothing. Someone vanishing mid-step and reappearing several meters away. A flash of something that looked suspiciously like lightning… but wrong.
The crowd around me started to shift.
"—they said it's already happening overseas—"
"—there's footage—actual footage—"
"—no way that's real—"
"—they're calling them 'Awakened'—"
My heartbeat picked up slightly. I stared at the screens for a long moment.
Then I laughed.
It was the kind of expression that made nearby pedestrians subtly step half a meter away without knowing why. Too wide, too certain, like it didn't belong on someone who still had homework and overdue rent in the same reality.
"…If there's ranks," I said between breaths, still smiling like I'd just been handed a cheat code, "then this world is already structured."
"You are smiling in a concerning way," The Unknown said.
I didn't even look away from the screen. "That's because this is perfect."
"…I have a bad feeling about this."
My grin widened slightly.
"Good," I said. "Because I don't."
I took a step forward, slipping back into the flow of the crowd like nothing in the world had just been rewritten on a global scale.
"If there are ranks, then I just need to climb them." My voice was calm now, almost casual, but there was something sharp under it—like ambition finally finding a shape it liked. "Doesn't matter if it's F or Z or whatever they decide to call it. Everything has a top."
"And I'm going to sit on it."
The Unknown went quiet for a moment. "…You are aware you currently cannot even pay your rent."
I clicked my tongue. "Temporary problem."
"…Until then, the landlord will remain a regular visitor."
I finally smirked properly. "Let him come."
"…I am watching a future villain develop in real time," The Unknown muttered.
I lifted my gaze toward the massive screen one last time, where the rankings still burned across the city like prophecy. And my grin didn't fade.
"If this world is ranking people," I said softly, almost to myself, "then I just need to make sure I'm at the very top."
"…And if you fail?"
I started walking again with an even wider grin.
"Fail..? Never heard of it."