Chapter 1
May 6th, 2026, Osaka
Inside a cramped, run-down apartment on the outskirts of Osaka, the room was filled with trash, roaches crawling with brown wings everywhere.
Except for the bed, the floor and surfaces were littered with instant noodle boxes, empty cans, and sticky white substances smeared across every surface. The mattress itself was soaked in a mixture of spilled coffee, soda, and other unidentifiable liquids. There were even disgusting white fluids.
Inside, a fat man, his body sticky and grimy, hair disheveled and unkempt, and his face half-hidden by a scruffy beard, was completely naked, engrossed in hentai. One hand worked relentlessly, jerking off, while his legs were sticky from the accumulated fluids. With every motion, his arousal intensified, his sticky white ejaculate gradually piling up on the bed. It was a scene so grotesque that it resembled a lust-crazed pig.
Outside the apartment building, black vehicles rumbled in, their engines growling like beasts beneath the structure. The headlights pierced through the darkness, illuminating the windows and streets. A group of thugs wielding bent metal rods, PVC pipes, steel tubes, and covered in full-body tattoos from dragons to phoenixes, stormed up the floors, dozens of them charging past bewildered neighbors toward the apartment door. They kicked the door violently, pounding it repeatedly until it finally splintered and crashed down onto the street, a deafening crash echoing through the alley.
Immediately, an overwhelming stench hit them—the sickly mix of unwashed bodies, chemical fumes, and the rotting scent of spoiled food. The interior of the apartment was a garbage heap, with roaches and rats scuttling around, fat and bloated like miniature pigs. In front of them, the fat man was still indulging in hentai, naked, his layers of belly fat sagging grotesquely like a pregnant sow. The lead thugs gagged violently, their faces twisting in disgust, while those following behind covered their noses, overwhelmed by the acidic stench.
Inside, the fat man hastily grabbed a sheet to cover his massive body. A loud crack reverberated through the room as his buttocks hit the laptop, shattering the screen and splitting the device in two. Outside, the gang members trembled, half-covering their mouths, their voices shaking.
Thug 1
> Pay the rent, or get the hell out of here.
His voice quivered with barely controlled anger as he grabbed the door, struggling against the stench. The revulsion in their eyes was palpable—if the room were any more disgusting, they might have collapsed on the spot. Another thug leaned against the wall, retching continuously, voice trembling with a mix of fury and disgust.
Thug 2
> Why don't we just teach him a lesson the hard way…
The first thug smacked the second one across the head, gasping and gritting his teeth, irritated by the stupid suggestion. His voice quavered, weakened from the stench and nausea.
Thug 1
> How long do you want to spend in jail, huh? We're here for the money, not for prison!
Suddenly, the apartment door behind them opened. The gang gagged again as the fat man appeared, wearing a dirty old T-shirt that hadn't been washed in years, a backpack slung over his shoulder. He silently handed a freshly taken key from the bathroom to the gang members, using some foul brownish substance. The stench made them vomit once more before he turned and descended the stairs.
Outside, the streets of Osaka sprawled under his feet. He walked like a street wanderer past office buildings illuminated by neon lights—the very places that had ruined his life, exploited him so thoroughly that he no longer wanted to leave the apartment or engage with the world. Passing a 7-Eleven, he ignored his hunger, having less than 20 yen in his pocket. Suddenly, his eyes fell on a strange banner on a nearby building: "Touch a rock, get 1000 USD." His face twisted in suspicion.
"What is this? Another scam?"
With nothing left to lose, he entered. Inside was an empty lobby, designed in a soft Eastern European style. A robotic voice echoed from the speakers, sounding like an AI:
AI
> Place a stone in the room, and our staff will take the stone inside for you.
He stepped deeper into the building, the lights casting sharp shadows across the lobby. Around him stood twenty people of varying heights, dressed in yellow hazmat suits with black gas masks, surrounding stones of every color—blue, red, purple, yellow. He approached a pure black stone. It was unremarkable except for its deep black color, unlike the others, which were numbered up to 7,500. This stone was marked 139. It had clearly been abandoned for a long time, like him—ignored, unwanted, and unloved by the world.
He stared at the stone, then approached a small desk, signed his name and wrote the number 139, without reading any further contracts. He stepped into a room identical to dozens around him: one chair, one table, a camera.
Sitting down, he silently observed as a hazmat worker approached with a large clamp, picked up the stone, and carefully placed it on the table before leaving. The AI voice spoke again.
AI
> Stone number 139, please touch the stone.
He slowly reached out. The moment his hand touched the stone, it shook violently. His body trembled as if shrinking, heat burning across his skin. His skin turned pale, foam forming at the corners of his mouth. The room filled with sedatives, and he collapsed unconscious.
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[To be continued]
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