Tokyo had never felt so silent.
Even during the late hours, when the city's noise softened into distant hums of traffic and flickering neon, there used to be something reassuring in its rhythm. But now, it was as if the world had gone numb. I sat alone in my dim apartment, the lights off to save electricity. The only illumination came from the cold glow of my monitor.
My stomach growled again. I ignored it.
The hunger had become a constant companion—an old friend that clung to my ribs and whispered reminders of my decline. It had been over forty-eight hours since I last ate anything solid. Tap water filled my belly just enough to quiet the worst of it, but my limbs trembled when I moved.
My name was Takumi. Forty-three. Once a logistics supervisor in a medium-sized firm. When the pandemic hit, the company folded. Like many others, I was sent home with empty promises of rehire. Two years later, the pandemic faded, but so did my chances. Every interview ended the same way:
"You're experienced, but we're looking for someone younger."
"Your skills are outdated."
"You understand, it's a competitive market."
I understood. I was no longer wanted.
With savings gone and no one to lean on, I fell into this routine of... nothing. I stared at screens, waiting for fatigue to force me into sleep, only to wake up and repeat the cycle. The fridge was empty. My wallet thinner than a napkin.
So tonight, like many nights before, I launched the only thing that gave me the illusion of control—an old RPG game I'd played during my university days.
Character creation. Something about it felt comforting.
Name: Doesn't matter.
Race: Human.
Class: Mage... no, Warrior... no.
I paused. A new class appeared I hadn't seen before.
Shadow Saint – Divine Class – Role: Unknown.
Huh. Must've been added in an update I missed. Curious, I hovered over the description.
"A being chosen by forgotten powers. Master of void and shadow. Savior or destroyer?"
My lips twitched.
"Savior, huh?"
I clicked it.
Just before the screen confirmed the selection, I murmured, more to myself than anything:
"If I get a second life... I'd rather serve the shadows than beg the light."
The monitor flickered.
My vision blurred.
The hunger hit me all at once—a sharp stab of dizziness, a plunge into freezing numbness, and then...
Nothing.
I awoke weightless.
No, not awake. Not exactly. I was... somewhere.
The darkness around me wasn't empty. It pulsed with quiet stars, a void filled with presence, as though I floated inside the breath of the universe. There was no ground, no ceiling, just infinite black and the warmth of existing without pain.
And then they appeared.
Two figures, opposing yet symmetrical.
One shone like the morning sun, wrapped in golden robes and soft radiance. Her hair shimmered like silk, and her smile promised safety. Peace. Hope.
The other stepped forward, draped in shadows that did not hide but revealed—an elegant woman of silver eyes and midnight hair. Her voice resonated like a whisper behind your ear.
"Takumi."
I blinked. "What... is this?"
The golden woman floated closer.
"You have died. But not all who die are forgotten. Your soul bears the mark of perseverance. I offer you light, and life anew."
The shadowed woman cut in, her tone soft but firm:
"You were discarded, not by fate but by people. Serve me, and I will give you strength. Not to be protected—but to protect. Not to kneel—but to stand."
The golden one smiled wider. "With me, you will heal the world. Become a symbol of hope."
The shadowed one tilted her head. "With me, you will know the world. And decide who deserves hope."
It wasn't even a question.
I turned to the shadowed woman and bowed my head.
"Then let me walk your path."
She raised her hand.
"Thamuel Lorandis. That is your new name. Remember who you were, but more importantly, remember who you must become."
A pulse of cold swept through me.
And the stars vanished.
I woke to sunlight.
Golden rays spilled through sheer curtains, brushing against fine carpets and a bed far too soft. I sat up—no, shot up. My hands were small. My body light. I scrambled to a nearby mirror.
A boy stared back at me. Blonde hair. Pale skin. Violet eyes.
I was a child. Eight years old, maybe nine.
Memories not my own flooded in. Etiquette lessons. Sword tutors. Quiet dinners with a stern father and a distant mother. The Lorandis family—minor nobility in the Kingdom of Eidalesse.
I was their only son.
"Young Master Thamuel?" a voice called from beyond the door. "Are you awake?"
I responded out of instinct, voice soft and noble. "Yes. Give me a moment."
It worked. They believed me. The soul of a dead man reborn into a noble boy.
That night, once the estate slept, I crept out of bed and into the training room. My new body was soft, untrained. I could barely lift the wooden sword. But I would change that.
I trained until my arms trembled.
When I finally collapsed onto a mat, panting, a soft hum filled the room.
A book appeared in the air. Black leather. A crescent sigil on the cover.
It landed before me, pages fluttering open.
Only I could read the words.
Shadow Saint Status Book
• Strength: 2
• Agility: 2
• Mana Pool: 25
• Shadow Points (SP): 3
Available Skill: Shadow Spy (1 SP)
I didn't hesitate.
"Unlock," I whispered, touching the page.
From under the nearest table, a ripple of shadow coalesced into a tiny, mouse-sized humanoid with no face. It bowed.
A familiar thrill pulsed through me.
A shadow that could gather information, obey silent commands, and return with what it saw and heard.
My first tool.
As I watched it vanish into the hallway, an envelope floated down before me.
It was pitch black. I opened it.
Mission: Observe the household. Uncover three secrets. Reward: +2 SP
I grinned.
This world didn't know me yet.
But it would.