Chapter 3: Chapter THREE: AN IMMORTAL WASTE OF SPACE
Chapter 3: AN IMMORTAL WASTE OF SPACE
He’s not yet wide awake but it’s another day, save
from this boredom.
The morning light filtered through threadbare curtains, casting pale streaks across the cramped apartnt. Dust motes danced lazily in the stagnant air, tinged with the faint sll of yesterday’s takeout and a tallic hint of lingering magic.
The stone walls, rough and cool to the touch, glistened faintly in the dim glow of a floating orb in the corner, its blue light pulsing like a heartbeat.
"Fuck you, Zero," he muttered, throat scratchy as if he’d been snoring for a century.
[Hehe, you’re awake. It seems my poetry wakes you up. You did have an affinity with literature.]
Zero’s voice crackled through the air, sharp and teasing.
Rubbing his eyes with the back of his knuckles, he squinted against the harsh glare.
"You’ve been on about my past life. I don’t even know anything about it, well, other than ani and so shit," he grumbled, propping himself up on one elbow, the bed creaking under his weight. The air slled of damp stone and old wood.
[Ah, ani, the core of an Otaku. To ease assimilation in your new life, your mories were wiped, leaving only what made your core personality. And lem tell you, you were lazy, chaotic, sociopathic, ani-loving, manga-reading, novel-reading, people-hating, with almost no social life. You were human trash—only your friends could tolerate you.]
Zero’s voice dripped with mock pity.
"Okay," Zeke said, unfazed, lips twitching into a half-smirk as he swung his legs over the bed’s edge, bare feet brushing the cold, uneven stone floor. The chill shot up his spine.
[I hate you already.] Zero’s tone was playful, like a sulking child.
"Don’t disturb . I’m going to do what a decent human does when they wake up," Zeke shot back, stretching, joints popping like old floorboards. His immortal body moved with fluid strength.
[You know you didn’t brush or bathe early in your past life, especially when you didn’t leave the house—and that was most of the ti. Ew.]
Zero’s voice shuddered dramatically.
A smirk tugged at Zeke’s mouth. "It seems I’m a changed man. You should learn you can’t sha the shaless. As an immortal, I’m as shaless as I can be. After all, you’ll die and forget my shaful acts."
He sauntered toward the bathroom door, bare feet slapping the stone with a rhythmic thud, the air growing cooler with a faint scent of mildew and soap.
[Soone has adapted.]
Zero’s voice was smug.
---
Zeke walked into the bathroom of the apartnt he’d woken in yesterday. The cramped space was lined with cracked ceramic tiles, gleaming faintly under a flickering mana-powered bulb. The sink bore rust stains, and the toothbrush—bristles worn and splayed—felt ancient.
He scrubbed vigorously, minty foam cutting through the stale taste in his mouth. The showerhead sputtered, spitting lukewarm water that slled of minerals. Zeke stood under the spray, the water tracing paths down his bronze skin, which glowed faintly under the bulb’s light. The rough, unscented soap scraped his skin, suds swirling down the drain with a soft gurgle. His silver-streaked hair clung to his shoulders like wet ink.
Erging naked, water dripping from his hair and pooling on the cold tiles, he noticed a full-length mirror, its edges chipped.
I haven’t checked my appearance in this world. I don’t even know how I looked before, he thought, locking eyes with his reflection, his tallic grey gaze narrowing as if sizing up a stranger.
The man looking back was tall—6’2
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