He sat on a rusted bench outside the Central Transport Hub, gazing up at the towering skyline of Neo-Luminara, where mirrored skyscrapers jutted arrogantly into the clouds.
From a distance, the city was breathtaking, an architectural marvel that promised dreams and opportunities.
But up close? It was a labyrinth of systems and social hierarchies that filtered people like sedint. And Billy? He had slipped through the cracks.
Pulling out his phone, he scrolled through it with mounting frustration: no ssages, not from Sophia, not from Margaret, not even Liz.
Just one unread system notification reminding him that Room 24’s bill was due in three days. If he didn’t pay by then, he’d be out,literally.
---
The next morning, Billy swallowed his pride and stepped into YoruMart, a discount gastore chain notorious for chewing through workers like gum before spitting them out.
The manager, a short, stocky man with an alarming amount of gel in his hair, barely glanced at Billy’s resu.
"You ever worked floor logistics before?" he asked, chewing sothing that slled suspiciously like raw onion.
"No, but I’m..."
"Any back problems? Allergies to plastic fus?"
"Nope."
"Willing to lift heavy stock, clean spills, and clock in before sunrise?"
Billy hesitated for a mont. "Yes."
"Can you start tomorrow?"
"...Yes."
"Great," the man replied curtly as he signed a digital form without so much as a handshake.
"Orientation starts at 4:00 AM. Don’t be late. Uniform costs 23 unicreds. Bring your own gloves, and don’t complain; I hate complainers."
---
Day One at YoruMart felt surreal under flickering fluorescent lights as Billy donned a shapeless green vest over a synthetic poly-blend shirt that clung to sweat before it even ford.
Assigned to Section K-Dry Goods and Stackables he spent six grueling hours moving crates, unpacking inventory, restocking shelves, and trailing behind a floor scrubber that left more streaks than shine.
No one addressed him by na; just nods and grunts accompanied gestures toward another task.
He hurt in places he didn’t know had muscles; his fingers blistered and his back throbbed painfully.
But the worst ache wasn’t physical,it was the feeling of being unseen.
In the Osborn halls where he’d once road freely, even his shadow held weight.
Here? He could’ve vanished without anyone noticing.
Yet he kept moving forward, counting hours like a prisoner etching lines into a wall, and when the shift bell rang at last, he didn’t collapse; instead, he exhaled deeply and made his way toward the staff room.
---
Kaia, a part-ti staffer in the sa section, offered Billy half of her lunch bar and a bottle of water.
She looked about twenty, maybe twenty-one, with shaved sides, a nose ring, and inked stars adorning her collarbone.
"First day?" she asked with a casual smile.
Billy nodded, feeling the weight of his new reality.
"You held up alright," she said between bites. "Most people either puke or walk out after their first stack rotation."
"I’ve had worse," he replied, forcing a tired smile.
She raised an eyebrow playfully. "That sounds like a lie, but I respect it."
They shared a mont of silence as they chewed on their food.
"You’ve got that ’I-used-to-be-sobody’ look," Kaia added eventually.
He blinked in confusion. "What?"
"You know,..the vibe that says you didn’t expect to end up here. Like this isn’t real yet."
A hollow chuckle escaped him. "Maybe."
"You’ll learn quick," she said matter-of-factly. "Real is what keeps you fed."
---
As the days rolled by, Billy fell into an exhausting routine: Up at 3:00 AM, trudging through misty streets to clock in by 3:55 AM and stack shelves.
Sort stock,scrub floors,lunch break, if he was lucky then stack more before clocking out and walking ho again. Rinse and repeat.
Neo-Luminara didn’t slow down for anyone not even for him.
But slowly, he began to adapt to this relentless world around him. His body adjusted to the grind; he learned when to sneak away for quick breaks and stopped expecting recognition from others.
Instead, he started paying attention really listening to the people around him: their silences, coping chanisms, and unspoken stories.
Kaia beca his quiet anchor; she didn’t pry or judge but introduced him to others who were navigating their own struggles: Rek, a delivery guy who once painted graffiti art; Marnie, a single mom from the slumps saving up to send her daughter to a safer school.
They all carried their ghosts but they also had grit.
For the first ti in his life, Billy felt like he truly earned his place in that room,not because of his na or bloodline, but simply because he showed up every single day and refused to quit.
---
Two weeks into this grind, the manager called him into the back office.
"You clock in early," she noted sharply. "You don’t whine or slack off."
"Thanks?" Billy replied cautiously.
"Want extra shifts?"
"Yes!" He barely contained his excitent.
"Night haul trash run,it’s nasty work but pays double. You want it?"
"Yes!" The word ca out almost too eagerly.
"Good the sign here."
Billy signed without hesitation,this was his chance!
---
That night, as he dragged refuse bins the size of hovercars across a shadowy loading dock, his muscles scread in protest.
His hands bled through thin gloves, and a sharp tal edge bit into his thigh. But did he stop? Absolutely not.
He kept moving forward. One step at a ti.
Tomorrow, he’d pay Room 24’s bill and maybe even treat himself to a proper al!
But for now, it was all about persistence: one hour, one job, one task at a ti.
Because if the Osborn na was going to an anything to him in this city, it wasn’t going to be a chain that held him back.
No way! It would be the foundation he rebuilt from the ground up, on his terms.
And you know what? He was ready to make it happen, his way.
-------
Osborn Family Estate-Inside Arthur’s study room,a huge screen split into multiple fras showing the images and videos of Billy working hard in the supermarket.
"Interesting seem like my little brother really doesn’t want a silver platter well then let’s make this more interesting let’s see how long you can continue to endure ".
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