Chapter 7
When looking down below…
There’s a steep slope with a packed staircase that feels dangerous—one wrong step and it’s boom—big trouble time!
Old walls covered in haphazard graffiti…
And a chaotic mess of cigarette butts and trash!
When looking up above…
The uncomfortable and dirty sights of the ground I saw just moments ago were nowhere to be found.
Instead, there were stars all gathered together, hand in hand, singing la la la…
And a warm moon illuminating the darkness, just hanging there like it owns the place.
I lived in the hillside slum.
===============================================================
Poor folks don’t have many games to play.
They can hop along the lines drawn in parking lots like frogs…
Or kick around a soccer ball so worn out that it’s practically squishy.
And if even that’s a no-go? Well, they just look up at the sky and hope for the best!
Since I was a frail little thing, I couldn’t join the other kids, and at home, entertainment options weren’t exactly booming either.
The science textbook handed out by the social worker was so ragged it might as well have been a war veteran. When that ran out of steam, I hit the newspapers. Sure, half the words went over my head like whoosh, but I read them endlessly.
So I gazed up at the sky. Dreaming with starry eyes.
The dark night sky was my personal canvas. With my imagination, I could paint whatever I wanted without forking over a single won!
What if I had been born rich?
What if I could have rained Choco Pies like Taemin in my class during the class president election?
What if I stumbled upon a magic lamp lying around, just waiting for some luck?
All those childhood fantasies wrapped up like a poorly made burrito—uncomplete and messy.
Scenes of turning into a rich person.
Scenes of throwing chicken instead of Choco Pies during elections.
Scenes of finding a magic lamp right on top of a cat’s food bowl while wandering through the slums.
In every scene, I couldn’t imagine what came next. In my wildest dreams, I was the lucky one but just stood there, clueless, and gave up.
Someone once said, “Imitation is the mother of creation.” Just like how someone who has never seen a dinosaur can’t picture one, I—having never known happiness—couldn’t begin to imagine it.
All I could do was vaguely sketch a smiling face.
===============================================================
Why on earth do people hate each other? I once found myself pondering this back in middle school.
I didn’t really mean to philosophize, mind you.
I was just curious as I got beaten up by my so-called “friends” on the daily.
Sometimes they decked me for being broke, sometimes for not having school supplies, and sometimes just for not having a mom around. They’d whip up excuses every punch, though we all knew it was just a load of hooey.
So it was only natural to wonder about the real reason.
Why were they so bent on bullying a quiet kid like me?
If their cruelty was completely baseless, then why was there this strange ability in people to hate others without reason?
From that point onward, villains started invading my thoughts.
Monsters that would snatch away my shoes and toss them straight into the bushes. Monsters that would poke me in the back with thumbtacks during class like a sneaky ninja. Monsters that would pilfer the supplies I scraped together and flush them down the toilet.
In those imagined scenarios where I was chased by monsters and facing doom, I would either strike it rich, rain chicken, or find a magic lamp just lying around.
Yet, even then, there were no happy endings. Even if I managed to send a monster packing, they’d come back like a recurring side character you just can’t shake off. Reality had me down, and so did my moonlit dreams.
Then, one day, it hurt so much it was like ow-wee!
I thought, maybe I’m sick? But nope.
Sure, my body was adorned with bruises, although at this point, those were more like fashion statements than anything else.
The real pain was in my heart.
Like a cavity that only starts acting up when the bacteria dig all the way to the nerve. Something precious in my heart got chipped away, and eventually, they hit the mother lode of emotions.
I cried, frightened and heartbroken.
If that precious part of my heart was worn down, I wouldn’t be myself anymore. And when that moment hit, all the pent-up anger? Kaboom! It would explode! I’d shout curses, grab something sharp, and charge at those ‘friends’ who tormented me.
I wasn’t exactly worried about becoming a criminal.
What scared me was losing my humanity.
As always, the first time is the toughest. The second is a piece of cake, and by the third? You’re a pro. The moment I become the guy who lashes out in anger, I’d turn into a monster straight out of my imagination.
No, I’d be even worse than those monsters.
They could go to school, with no lack of anything. Both their parents were alive, and they had friends to hang out with. Meanwhile, I had none of these.
If I even lost my humanity, I’d be left with nothing but a lesson—harsh and empty.
I had to keep my heart safe. I wanted to protect my precious heart at all costs.
I really, truly tried to keep it together.
===============================================================
When you look closely, you learn a lot.
This goes for people too. Some parts are highly complex, while others are simple enough to fit into a diagram. I studied people, categorizing them by understanding which behaviors worked for whom.
Surprisingly, people don’t appreciate unconditional loyalty as much as you think. Sometimes, you have to take a step back to remind them you’re useful. People are more invested in things they fear losing than what they already have.
People really stress about social perception. You must wield others’ gazes as your weapon. Even the toughest bad boy gets shaken up under the scrutiny of a mob’s eyes.
So for those who hated me…
It’s far more effective to make a bunch of unknowns despise them instead of me joining in on the hating.
I lived my life calculating everything instead of following my heart.
I smiled through sorrow, and cried tears of joy. I balanced pleasing those around me while getting them to act in my favor. “The real me” tucked away inside was suffocating, but suffocation still felt better than getting smacked around.
And so I lived my mechanical college life.
I joined a club that seemed like a fun place to make friends.
Heck, I even got a girlfriend to build social standing. Not exactly my type, but I could see it would be worse to reject her confession.
She would absolutely create a whirlwind of nasty rumors about how daring I was to turn her down.
Then one day, like any other…
“Hey, want to try this thing called TRPG? I saw it on YouTube and pretty sure I can do it better than them.”
That’s what my girlfriend said. I wasn’t really into it, but I didn’t say no.
She told me to whip up a character.
With no background or anything, she just said, “It’s fantasy, figure it out!” So I got home, spread out a piece of paper, and sighed.
What the heck kind of character do you want me to create? Fantasy can mean so many things, and if I make one, do I actually need to play it? What even is an Attack of Opportunity? Help!
After banging my head against it, suddenly an idea hit me, and I started scribbling. I wrote down four syllables: Barbarian.
My first TRPG character, the Barbarian, was filled with my wishes.
What if… I wasn’t a frail little weakling, but a bundle of courage?
What if I could smash the heads of all the rude people I ran into?
Wasn’t that a fun thought?
Back then, I might have wanted to rewrite my unhappy childhood story. Reflecting on it now, that’s not exactly the most admirable attitude. Just to clarify, characters and players need to be kept separate.
All things considered, when a sloppy GM meets a sloppy player, you can all but predict the session’s future.
My character, the Barbarian, would split enemies in half as soon as they appeared. Even when NPCs asked for dialogue, or seemed to share tragic backstories, I’d just roll the dice and let fate decide!
The GM threw in way too many suspiciously powerful NPCs. Why on earth was the Imperial Prince or the Northern Duke popping up while we were just trying to investigate a mine in some backwater village?
There was nothing my weak character could do. Those handsome hunks were handling the continent’s threats, and I was left to clean up the crumbs.
And then, boom.
It was inevitable.
My first TRPG may have been a mess, but oddly enough, it felt good.
Maybe I preferred following my heart over my head.
Or perhaps…
I thought that through this TRPG game, I might manage to complete the story I could never create beneath the hillside slum’s night sky.
That’s why.
That’s why I started to love TRPG.
I wanted to find a story in this little theater happening on paper.
A super thrilling and dazzling story that could repay all my life’s misfortunes.
===============================================================
“……What do you think that story should be like?”
“First off, it should have romance. Sessions are way more fun with a little love sprinkled on top.”
“And then?”
“Adversity and hardship are always essential. After all, the protagonist has to overcome challenges and grow!”
“Anything else?”
“It’s gotta have humor. Humor can catch two birds with one stone. It’s funny by itself, and pair it with a bit of tragedy? Chef’s kiss! It really brings flavor.”
“If I’m getting this right, the GM is the game operator, and the player is the one who… enjoys the game… Which one do you want to be?”
“I want to be the GM. Because the thirsty one has to dig the well.”
“So that’s why you created a world.”
“Yup.”
“Alright, I’ll help you. I’m also… looking for a story of my own. You’ll create a world for me too, right? Since you’ve gobbled up so much grant money, you’ve got to have a conscience or something…”
“I get it, I get it.”
Under the brilliant moon above the hillside slum railing…
The Tower Master and I made a pinky promise.
My site has received a lot of DMCA notices, lol. From now on, I will update the MTL on https://darkmtl.com/.
The site is fast and lightweight because there are no ads yet. However, the theme is different from Cybor-TL, so take some time to familiarize yourself.
Support me by donating at least $10, and you'll have the right to request any novel from Novelpia (excluding 19+ content) using a newly developed tool.