David stared at the two thick batches of documents on his desk.

"I chose this life, why am I complaining?"

His eyes peered over the first document.

'Drought relief protocol.'

"Just great, another one of those."

There had to be more to life.

'Following Act 1263, signed by Chairman Nathaniel Yzog to accomplish and restore water solvency to Coldwater County and Cherryville County…'

There had to be more to life than a mundane government job.

'The estimated total cost of the relief protocol stands at 532,072 USD…'

There had to be more to life than money, failed relationships, and a decaying family. No. He had fucked up, and that would be all his life would ever amount to.

David's hands shook, handling the document.

He had missed many chances. He would never get them back.

He could have moved into the countryside back when Rebecca asked him after graduation. Gods, he loved that woman…

He could have skipped work to attend his mother's funeral. She was a horrible parent, but the only family he had.

Now, he was all alone.

He had chosen his studies and stupid dreams of city life over the woman he loved, and work over his mother.

"Davis?"

Someone nudged his back, causing him to awaken from his introspective trance. A tall man with a robust build and stern, thick eyebrows. This was one of his colleagues, John. From all of their encounters, David found that the best way to summarize that man was laziness. He loathed lazy people. John searched for every chance, every opportunity to shirk his responsibility and engage in meaningless activities.

David thought he was likely going to ask him to cover up his shift because "his mother had to be driven to the hospital" for the 20th time this month.

"Have you heard?" John winked at him.

"No, I haven't."

"You didn't even hear what I have to say!"

"Then say it and leave. Can't you see I'm busy?"

John giggled and waved his hands before starting his tirade, "This year's Returnees will be here this afternoon."

At the mention of "Returnees", David grimaced.

"You may not know this, but as public servants, we are entitled to a day off to welcome them."

"Why would I do that?"

"Well, you know, you can form connections with these future stars, meet a fair lady or two, or just escape work…hahaha…"

John laughed as if he expected David to laugh along with him. Instead, his throaty laughter echoed awkwardly throughout the floor. The man soon realized this and stopped laughing.

"You know what, David, I'll come back to you later, Vanessa's here."

'Please don't.'

David returned to examining his documents. However, his brain drifted off at every hint of concentration, thinking about John's earlier declaration.

There was more to life. He just wasn't lucky enough.

Beyond the dimensional barriers of their universe, the Otherworld awaited Earthlings every year. Every year, a thousand Earthlings would teleport to Gomorrah, the Upside-Down Tower, and train in the arts of magic and physique for seven weeks.

The Otherworld greeted the Earthlings with the hordes of monsters and creatures that caused calamity to the natives.

There was greater destiny. It was greater than jobs, family, money, or friends. Saving the Otherworld.

Once, David wanted to be one of these lucky few.

Now, he was not and soon-to-be thirty, his weakening physique making any chance at selection impossible.

"Today's weather is quite gloomy, isn't it?" David stamped the document in his hands and put on his coat before leaving the office.

…

Greyhound Square was a spacious plaza within Clearlake City. Named after the first person to leave for the Otherworld, Paul Greyhound, it acted as the return point for a hundred Returnees every year.

David now stood within the edge of this plaza, leaning on an old, rusty gas lantern.

A few hundred people, all government workers, police officers, or authorized journalists mingled in the square, waiting for the same event to take place.

Right before David started to grow impatient, he, along with everyone else, noticed an anomaly in the air at the center of the square.

Scary black ripples appeared and then disappeared. They started as small, thin ruptures within the fabric of space, but they grew larger over time. Every time a ripple closed; a burst of wind came alongside it.

Unaware, a strong gust of wind struck David and sent his top hat flying.

Just as he was about to turn around and retrieve it, a strong hand nudged his shoulders.

"Your hat."

"Thank you…"

The man who handed him his hat was clad in very concealing clothes. A tall black coat, a black mask over his face, black sunglasses, and a black top hat. It was very suspicious attire, if not for the fact that everyone here ran through identity checks before entry.

Nonetheless, certain aspects of the man felt off.

"Thank you," David thanked him properly and crawled away.

The man did not even look at him, instead focusing on the center of the square. He was right to do so, as a crowd of newcomers stood on the square.

They wore strange but recognizable clothing: draping robes, full-body armor, leather skin armor, or white church robes.

The Returnees.

The spectators offered them a round of loud applause.

David did not, and neither did the man a few steps away from him.

'They don't deserve applause or celebration.'

The Returnees were the ultimate cowards. They gained power, and prominence, as men and women within the Otherworld. Then, instead of doing their best to help the war efforts and dying gloriously on the battlefield, they fled back to Earth when the duration of their contract ended.

On Earth, they were met with celebration and instant stardom.

A nearby journalist interviewed one of the returnees, an eagle-eyed man, "Why, sir, have you decided to return to Earth?"

The eagle-eyed man smiled at the large camera in front of his face and replied with fabricated bittersweetness, "After seeing the pains of the Otherworld, I realized my homeworld also had problems that needed solving. I could not bear to stay in there and benefit when I knew thousands here did not have the luck, strength, charisma, and power that I have to change this world."

"Thank you for your honors in serving justice and righteousness," The journalist flattered the returnee.

David clicked his tongue.

They all gave the same reasons.

"In reality, you're all just animals who couldn't stand the responsibility that came with your power and escaped."

In another corner of the plaza, David saw his colleague John conversing with an armored woman, likely showering her with praise, hoping to leech some benefits and connections from this place.

This pattern continued, as forced laughter and bragging flooded his ears.

David turned around.

There was not much he could do here.

He had an afternoon off, and then he would return to his job and lonely home.

Entertaining such thoughts, David paced towards the streets of Clearlake City. "Taxi!"

A cab parked in front of him, and he got into the taxi.

He wasn't the only one, as a person followed behind him and sat next to him in the backseats.

David glanced at the man for a second. It was the masked man. He closed the door, and David said to the taxi driver, "St. John's Boulevard, Universitas Avenue, please."

The driver nodded and began driving.

'Why didn't he ask the other man?'

David leaned to examine the man, but his faint reflection on the black sunglasses caused him to turn back, and instead peer out of the window.

Clearlake City was gray and gloomy in the winter, and the empty afternoon streets offered no scene to look at.

Soon, rows of identical apartment blocks lined the streets, and the car slowed down until it halted.

"2 dollars and 50 cents, please."

David paid the taxi driver and left the car.

Behind him, the other client also followed. However, he did not pay a single cent, and the taxi driver did not notice.

David rubbed his forehead.

It was strange, but nothing unusual that they both lived on St. John's Boulevard. It was, after all, the cheapest residential block in the city. The man's appearance just rubbed David the wrong way.

"Have a good evening."

"You too."

David detected the usual rubber smell of the neighborhood as he walked away, expecting to part ways with the man.

Instead, the sound of footsteps hitting puddles of water behind him told David he was wrong.

He turned around, and in a semblance of politeness, he asked, "Mister, do you live nearby?"

"Not really."

"Huh."

David pretended to be calm. However, his shaky hands betrayed him, and perused his deep pockets, in search of any object he could use to defend himself.

"Do not be afraid."

David paused.

"I can get you to the Otherworld."