The next day, Ivan woke up and dressed up like usual, the ruminations of the previous night already forgotten.
He was a little practical by nature, specially after his father's death a few years ago, and thus the boy didn't believe in things like mysterious systems coming to life and giving him a new beginning.
The day he had took up the job of a janitor, he had decided to free himself of the joys of a child and live like a responsible adult.
The boy quickly changed into a white shirt and black pants, the staple school uniform they had as he looked himself in the mirror, almost feeling as if he had gained a few pounds of leaned muscle.
He thought he looked a little different. Stronger, maybe, while his arms and even his shoulder looked a bit more defined.
"Must be all that sweeping and hauling," he muttered to himself with a dry chuckle. The thought didn't stay long. Work was work, and there was no use daydreaming.
He slung his bag over his shoulder, only to collide head-on with another figure in the hall.
The two of them stumbled, falling face flat omto the floor.
"Tch—watch where you're going!" his sister groaned, scrambling to her feet.
Ivan blinked at her, then sighed and offered his hand. "You're the one running around like a maniac."
She ignored his scolding, dusted off her skirt, and darted past him. "I'm late already, don't slow me down!"
Before she disappeared through the door, Ivan reached out and ruffled her hair.
She swatted his hand away, frowning in annoyance, but she didn't look back.
For a moment, his smile faded.
His sister was only a few months younger, but since their father's death, she hadn't grown tougher. Instead, she had broken. She lived in denial, sometimes acting like their father was still alive, sometimes whispering to herself as though he'd walk in the door any second.
The doctors had called it "a phase," told their mother to give her time. But years had passed, and the bubble had only grown thicker.
Ivan hated it.
And yet, it was one more reason he worked as a janitor. To keep her in school, to give her a chance at normal life, even if he had to live as a shadow to protect it.
Fortunately, she had no idea about his job. Their departments were on different campuses, miles apart.
For now, she could believe her brother was just another student. For now, he could continue carrying the weight alone.
The day at school dragged the way it always did.
Teachers talked on about things such as modern science and AI while explaining the importance of technology in this new age world while Ivan just stared at the whiteboard in front of him blankly.
When the final bell rang, Ivan felt his chest loosen. Another useless day, survived.
He quickly stepped out, hoping to make it home before his janitor duties pulled him into another long evening.
But fate, as usual, had other plans.
"Oi, look who it is."
The voice came from behind. Mocking, sharp.
Ivan froze.
He knew that voice too well.
Stanley.
The towering boy walked out from the corner with his usual pack of shadows at his back. His smirk was already cruel, steps heavy with confidence.
"Well, if it isn't the janitor-boy," Stanley drawled, cracking his fists. "Going home so soon? Didn't you forget to scrub my shoes, boy?"
Ivan's jaw clenched. He quickened his pace, hoping to pass without incident.
He didn't want trouble.
He never wanted trouble.
But the group spread out, blocking the narrow path that he had decided to take.
They were currently at the abandoned alley behind the school which used to be a shortcut for Ivan's way back home.
Stanley stepped closer, his eyes glinting with something dark.
"Running away again? Tsk. That's all you ever do. Run and clean."
Ivan's chest tightened. He could feel the old, familiar frustration swelling between his lungs.
But he swallowed it. He had to. Trouble meant suspension. Suspension meant expulsion. And expulsion meant his sister losing her place in school.
He couldn't risk that.
But then one of Stanley's lackeys leaned in with a snicker.
"Hey, Stan. Did you hear? His little sister still talks like their dead dad's alive. Real psycho, huh? I heard she's pretty smashable with those curves and matured body tho—"
The words hit Ivan like a knife.
The laughter that followed cut even deeper.
"Man, no wonder he's such a loser. His whole family's so broken."
"Bet Mommy cries herself to sleep every night. Raising two freaks." Stanley laughed out loud, followed by the laughs of his lackeys.
Ivan stopped walking.
Slowly, very slowly, he turned to face them. His blue eyes, usually dull with exhaustion, now burned with something else. His voice came out low, almost calm.
"You could have said anything about me. Anything. You could've called me trash. A failure...even a janitor."
He took a step forward towards the group of 7 boys, his fists trembling at his sides.
"But you shouldn't have dragged my family into this."
The smile on Stanley's face widened. He had gotten what he wanted. The weak dog had finally bared its teeth, the tall boy thought.
"Oh? Look at that. Janitor-boy thinks he's scary."
Rage blurred Ivan's vision. Without thinking, without planning, he jumped at them. His fist swung wide, fueled not by strength but by fury.
The punch connected, startling Stanley for a moment, but only for a moment.
Then the retaliation began.
Stanley's fist was like a hammer against Ivan's jaw. Another boy slammed him into the wall. A knee drove into his gut, stealing his breath.
"Pathetic," Stanley growled, slamming him down. Blow after blow rained down, until Ivan's vision swam in red and black.
He coughed, tasting his own blood, but his mind screamed louder than his broken body.
He wanted to fight. He wanted to tear them apart. But his arms wouldn't move anymore. His legs refused to listen to him.
Through the blur, he saw Stanley's shadow looming over him, heard the cruel laughter echoing in his ears.
And in that moment, a bitter truth settled over him.
This was how his story would end.
Not as someone successful.
Not as someone remembered.
But as nothing more than a broken janitor, beaten to death in the dirt by boys who would forget about him tomorrow.
His lips twisted into a bloody smile, his last thought bitter and sharp.
"So this…is all I was meant to be?"
Darkness swelled inside him as he soon lost consciousness.
***
That night, in the empty alley behind Stigma High, Ivan Odinson's dead body lay rotting.
And far away, in a world untouched by modern lights and technology, something ancient stirred.
[System Re-initializing…]
[Host Transfer To Another World In Progress.]
***