"It's time to clean, Mama."
He really does seem possessed.
I'm sorry, kid.
I'm sorry to the mother as well.
Seriously—I didn't mean to traumatize anyone. I just wanted to try out the magic.
"Hunny! What is wrong with you?!"
The mother sprinted toward her son, arms wide to hug him—
—but he shoved her away like she was just some background character.
Oof.
That one hit deep.
Did I just turn this poor boy into a cleaning demon?
But... why am I loving the show?
Am I turning evil?
...No. I've always been evil. Just with style now.
(At least I'm self-aware. That makes me a good kind of evil, right?)
Also, I really don't like how filthy this place is.
Like...ugh. Slums? Trash? Mud?
Disgusting.
(And before you judge me, just remember—I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth in my past life. I had golden carpets, chandeliers, and probably even diamond toilet paper. And thanks to my stepdaddy, I became a janitor until my last breath. Such a very good stepdaddy, isn't he? )
"Hey, kiddo," I said again gently. "Listen to me."
Zack's eyes glowed even brighter—like twin flashlights powered by divine janitor energy.
Even his voice sounded... majestic. Deep. Echo-y. Like the echoes inside a newly cleaned public restroom.
Powerful stuff.
"Can you repeat after me?"
The kid nodded.
People around the slums started whispering, staring at him. Some looked scared, others amazed. Some probably thought he was about to explode like a magical bomb.
"By the power vested in me…" I began with authority.
"By the power vested in me…" he repeated, his voice booming. His aura?
Top-tier anime protagonist energy unlocked.
"I summon you…" I said with drama.
"I summon you…" he echoed.
I smirked in my invisible ring form.
"BROOOOOM!!"
He shouted with perfect timing.
"BROOOOOM!!"
And then it happened.
Out of thin air—like some budget anime transformation—a golden, shimmering broom appeared.
No joke. It hovered in front of Zack like some divine sword.
The heavens themselves probably played some cleaning anthem in the background.
"♫ Sparkle and Sweep! ♫" or something.
The kid grabbed the broom like it was Excalibur itself.
His mother gasped, stumbling back in horror.
But my Number 1?
He gripped that broom like it held the meaning of life.
He was ready.
Then he marched. One step. Two. Three.
And suddenly—
"CLEAN! CLEAN! CLEAN! HAHAHAHAHA!!"
I screamed from the top of my ring lungs.
(Yes. Ring lungs. Don't question my anatomy.)
The magic word CLEAN echoed like thunder. The fairy said it would turn the wearer into a cleaning maniac—and it worked like a charm. Literally.
Zack—no, Number 1—swung the broom like a warrior of sanitation.
He furiously swept the muddy, garbage-ridden ground like he was in battle.
His energy? Unmatched.
His passion? Relentless.
His technique?
Unhinged.
Dust flew. Garbage scattered. Rats squeaked and ran.
People ducked for cover as waves of wind from the broom whooshed through the air.
I was laughing maniacally. I swear I've never felt so alive. Or, well… as alive as a ring can feel.
"Hey! Number 1!" I shouted. "Summon again! Summon a dustpan!"
Only he could hear me, of course. That's part of the fun.
Without hesitation, he slammed the broom's end to the ground like Thor's hammer.
"By the power vested in me, I summon you, Dust Pan!!"
A blinding light shone again. And just like that, the Almighty Dust Pan floated down from the heavens.
Golden. Sparkling. Fancy enough to be used by royalty.
The peasants in the slums looked like they just witnessed a miracle.
Like Moses parting the Red Sea.
But it was just Zack scooping up garbage.
He bent down and started working like a professional.
One sweep, one scoop, another sweep.
Trash? Gone.
Mud? Vanished.
Even the mold on the wall started to peel off in fear.
The slums were slowly transforming.
It was like watching one of those extreme home makeovers.
Except, you know… done by an 8-year-old possessed by janitor magic and controlled by a talking ring.
And the best part?
I was glowing.
Like, literally. I was glowing with power.
It felt amazing.
This is what victory tastes like.
"Oh my god…" someone whispered.
"A child from the heavens…" another mumbled.
"Is he cursed?"
"No… he's blessed. Look at how clean it is!!"
The mother just dropped to her knees, stunned.
I swear I saw a single tear roll down her cheek. Whether it was pride, fear, or just dust flying into her eyes—I couldn't tell.
And me?
I whispered proudly,
"Good job, Number 1. Keep sweeping."
Note: I know what you're thinking. "This ring is evil." Well, maybe. But also fabulous. And before any of you dirty-minded readers get weird about me feeling the boy's finger inside me, remember: I'm literally a ring now. Don't make it weird. Keep your brain cells scrubbed clean like Number 1's broom.
To be continued...