I slumped onto the couch, regretting that I had been misunderstood by a powerful Grimlock medic. The chances of running into her again were slim, but I still hoped she hadn't taken offense. After all, with her Grim cypher, building a powerful tree-type grim deck would pose no challenge at all. If I did happen to meet her again, I would much rather have her remain neutral than become hostile toward me.
Soon, I heard another knock at the door. This time, I didn't rush to answer. As I was about to check the peephole, a male voice called out, "Housekeeping."
Only then did I open the door. The staff set down the food and a change of clothes before leaving without delay. After devouring the meal, I changed into the Grimway Station's standard staff coveralls, unsure of when I would be summoned to meet the so-called city's leaders.
With my hunger satisfied, I logged in to my Grim Web card to register with the authorities and update my documents to claim F.O.E's benefits available to Grimlocks.
A grim deck consisted of fifty-four cards, with two slots permanently reserved for the Cypher card and the Grim Web card—much like default apps on a smartphone. The Grim Web card was among the four most important cards in a deck, ranking just below the Cypher card and Gioncore card in significance.
If this were an RPG, the Cypher card would function as my status panel, while the Grim Web card served as a multipurpose hub for messaging, social networking, G-commerce, and payments. It allowed me to connect to the Grimlock Community across both worlds, except within Grimlores. There, it automatically shifted to a localized network, ensuring party members remained connected while raiding together.
That left the remaining fifty slots for Grimlocks to purge, seal, fuse, and upgrade Grimmons using their Grim prowess, creating Grim cards to build their own Grim deck.
Within three minutes of updating my status from regular citizen to Grimlock, my phone exploded with notifications. Dozens of online loan platforms congratulated me, informing me that my credit limit had been increased and my interest rates had been "revised"—both on future loans and the ones I already owed.
This was understandable, considering Grimlock's earning potential was far higher than that of an average citizen—especially an orphan barely in his late teens. Knowing how much debt Crayon's parents had taken on just to build their Grim Decks, none of these financial "perks" attracted me. I understood that using debt to build one's deck was a bottomless pit—once you fell into it, only your corpse would ever reach the bottom.
Ignoring those messages, I began testing the various functions of the Grim Web card. That quickly led me to this world's social media, where the top ten trending searches and posts were all about me. The entire world was buzzing with curiosity over someone becoming a Grimlock outside Grimmyth.
Unable to track me down, the media turned to the accounts of those who had witnessed my contract ceremony. Eventually, they dug up the handicapped Asian girl who had sold me a grilled corn cob and potato—items later accepted by Grimmyth as my tribute—and forced her out of hiding to recount the event.
The girl, however, proved to be a true capitalist. She only opened her mouth to promote the sale of her ten-page G-book she posted on Grim Web, priced at one G-coin, detailing her point of view of my contract ceremony outside Grimmyth. The G-book was an G-book posted on Grim Web and not the internet.
The internet on this Earth had become a relic of the past once Grim-tech devices capable of accessing the Grim Web were invented, allowing even ordinary citizens to connect to it. However, they didn't have access to advanced functions of the Grim Web, like trading and auctioning grim cards.
Eventually, eyewitnesses at my contract ceremony helped Grimlock journalists uncover my identity. Not long after, news outlets leaked my name as the fortunate individual who had become a Grimlock outside Grimmyth.
From there, everything spiraled out of control. They dug into my past, trampling over any notion of privacy. Every detail of Crayon's life was laid bare for the world to see. Some argued that I was unworthy, while others turned their ire toward the Zenith Guild and Crayon's brother, convinced that Grimmyth wouldn't go out of its way to blindly favor someone undeserving. Yet on one point, everyone was united—they wanted to hear my firsthand account of the contract ceremony outside Grimmyth.
So, ignoring all the fuss over whether I was deserving of this miracle or not, I began drafting a detailed G-book of my contract ceremony using my Grim Web card. It accounted for the events that led to my contract ceremony outside Grimmyth, along with my own reflections, and laid out a convincing case for what I believed had led to my being contracted by Grimmyth on Earth.
It was more of a documentary than a simple account. I intended to share it with the leaders first and later post it on Grim Web copying the handicap asian girl's strategy. After all, the entire world was curious about how I had become a Grimlock outside the Grimmyth, and I would be a fool not to capitalize on that curiosity.
By the time I was done with editing my G-book, the sound of synchronized footsteps echoed outside the door. A woman in formal attire entered with two guards and gestured for me to follow her.
"Right this way."
She led me into a conference room filled with the Skyox city's leaders holding influential ranks in the Federation of Earth's administration. A few wore uniforms heavy with medals, while others were draped in lavish robes embroidered with enigmatic symbols. A long conference table stretched between us, forming a clear dividing line.
From Crayon's memories, I recognized everyone present: City Commander Dia Laos, Deputy City Commander Col .D Blade, Deputy Grimgate Commander Mark Payne, Chief Research Director Harrison Hawthorne, Chief Medical Director Ethan Scott, and Chief Grim-tech Director Margaret Mitchell.
As Grimlocks entrusted with the city's governance, protection, and law enforcement—along with its medical, academic, and technological advancement—each wielded a Grim Deck of heroic rank or above. Thanks to their prowess—on this Earth, they were practically celebrities. Kids grew up dreaming of becoming someone like them. Their faces, accomplishments, and exploits were impossible not to know.