Hajime stood with arms folded as the customization panel hovered beside the massive, boxy vehicle now officially registered under his ID. His new truck—no longer just a vehicle, but a dimensional asset—stood idle like a tamed beast, waiting.
"You sure this is all you want?" Omi asked, squinting at the minimal additions Hajime had requested.
The truck's dashboard now bore a small, bobbleheaded hobgoblin figure with gleaming red eyes and oversized fangs. Every vibration from the engine made its absurdly large head wobble furiously. Next to it was a squishy, smiling slime pillow resting like an oversized marshmallow on the passenger seat.
Hajime shrugged. "I don't need much. Just some company."
"Company, he says," Omi muttered with a snort.
The customization finalized with a hiss of mist. A clean beep followed as the fueling unit locked into place beside the truck. Hajime approached with the shimmering blue vial of Dimensional Fuel, the ethereal substance glowing like captured starlight. He poured it carefully into the tank.
The truck shivered.
Omi flinched. "Whoa. It... liked that."
Before she could comment further, the manager approached, holding out what looked like an ordinary smartphone.
"Standard ITA-issue phone," he explained. "Functions like a normal one. Text, camera, maps, you name it. But if you've got Dimensional Energy, you'll see extra features. Notifications. Mission directives. Target markings. That sort of thing."
Hajime took the phone. The screen flickered subtly as he held it—like it was acknowledging him.
"Any questions?" the manager asked.
"Too many," Hajime muttered. "But they'll keep."
The manager didn't move away yet. Instead, he leaned slightly on the truck, checking something on his own device.
"Actually," he said, "you're up for your first official run. Pharmaceutical client. Simple pickup and delivery, but you're to meet the rep at the airport compound. Shouldn't take long."
Hajime blinked. "Why am I doing a delivery? Shouldn't I be doing... I don't know. Something driver-y? Or at least something where I don't have to pretend to be one?"
The manager laughed. "What do you think puts food on the table, man? Dimensional Energy?" He shook his head. "Gotta keep up appearances. Clients pay the bills."
He clapped Hajime's shoulder and walked off. "Don't be late. That cargo's got timers."
Hajime climbed into the truck and turned the key. The engine roared to life, smooth and powerful. He pressed the horn—long and loud.
Rin appeared just outside the warehouse bay, sliding his phone into his pocket with a relaxed grin.
"Ready?" he asked, opening the door and climbing in.
"Was that a personal call?" Hajime asked.
"Just tying up loose ends," Rin said casually, though his eyes briefly flicked toward a pair of dark sedans in the distance before he climbed in. The glance was subtle—barely noticeable—but Hajime caught it.
Behind them, the manager observed. "This ought to be interesting," he said under his breath, chuckling.
Omi, seeing the hobgoblin bobblehead shake maniacally as a junior driver accidentally poured a bucket of oil into the wrong tank, burst into laughter.
"You're laughing at the truck?" the manager asked, deadpan.
"Of course! What else?"
The manager gave her a look, shook his head, and walked away.
The pharmaceutical company's front office was tucked between hangars at the edge of the airport compound. After showing their credentials and getting a short briefing from a logistics coordinator—an older woman in a white coat who handed them loading manifests—the two drivers headed for the assigned freight area.
Inside the cab, the tension began to settle.
"You nervous?" Rin asked lightly.
"...A little," Hajime admitted.
"Don't be. Just stay sharp, and stay quiet. These missions get observed more than you think."
Hajime raised an eyebrow. "Observed?"
Rin didn't answer directly. "The instructors watch everything. Even how you blink."
Silence fell again.
But Hajime had noticed it—cars in the distance keeping pace for too long. Two black sedans, low profile. Too clean for airport traffic.
He tapped Analyze.
[Two individuals detected. Intent: Hostile Observation. Role: External Agents. Affiliation: Unknown. Probability of interference: 78%]
He frowned, adjusted the rearview mirror casually. His foot hovered near the brakes but didn't press.
"Trouble?" Rin asked without looking.
"No. Just... traffic."
They pulled into the airfield's cargo zone, where a solitary man in his mid-30s waved at them near a large crate beside a mobile crane.
"You the ITA guys?" the man asked, double-checking a digital slate.
"Yup," Hajime confirmed. "You're the operator?"
The man nodded. "Sucks I'm doing this on my own. All the others went home for the weekend. Still, who needs company when your love life's a joke, right?" He laughed bitterly as he secured the crate.
Hajime blinked. Then his phone buzzed.
Notification: Target Identified.
He opened it. The screen turned a muted blue.
Name: Daichi Hoshino. Age: 35. Status: Chosen.
Requesting Entity: Goddess Euphelia, Domain of Compassion.
Reason: Soul in emotional stagnation. Eligible for transfer to World 7-Romancia (Gender Imbalance Type).
He didn't scroll further.
"Oh. One of those worlds," Hajime muttered.
Rin peered at him. "That the one?"
Hajime didn't answer. He just stared at an entirely different person, pretending to focus elsewhere. "Let's just get this done."
He tipped the operator before climbing back into the truck. Rin followed but lingered, muttering something under his breath.
As Hajime sat with hands on the wheel, he could feel his heart begin to race. His fingers curled tightly. He'd only seen death from the sidelines so far—but this would be his first.
He's not going to die. Just transferred, Hajime told himself. That's how it works here. That's what they said.
Even so, he exhaled slowly, bracing himself. Don't hesitate.
At the far end of the hangar road, the two black cars pulled up. Three men stepped out—two bald, both in black suits, and a third holding a briefcase.
"Time to make contact," Rin whispered, seemingly to no one. "Do it before he gets away."
The men nodded, entering an old van nearby. It pulled into the road ahead, blocking Hajime's exit.
Hajime squinted. The Analyze skill triggered again—
[Intent: Sabotage. Hidden Goal: Force Collision. Secondary Goal: Capture Subject.]
"Kids," he muttered, putting the truck in reverse.
Rin tensed. "You're going the wrong—"
But the truck shot backward. Hajime twisted the wheel and floored the gas.
Outside, the operator barely turned in time before the truck rammed into him at full speed. The impact flared with blue light—and he vanished.
"...What the hell!?" Rin shouted.
Hajime didn't wait. With another flick, he used his skills illusion and stealth . The interface shifted. In a shimmer of blue flame, the entire vehicle folded into itself, reappearing moments later as a beat-up pickup truck.
A traffic morph.
The crates were gone—stored in the truck's inventory.
Within seconds, he was gone from the airport and cruising in traffic.
In a shadowed room, multiple scans flickered to life.
"He's gone," one voice hissed.
"He changed form," another muttered. "Where did he learn that?!"
In the now-transformed truck, Hajime sighed and pulled out his phone.
"HQ," he whispered. "Reporting completion. En route."
A chime echoed in his ears.
Level Up.
He stared at the notification.
"What sort of messed up game am I even in?"
End of Chapter 3.