The morning light filtered through the curtains of Adonis's small apartment, illuminating the quiet space. He had woken up earlier than usual, feeling the weight of anticipation in his chest. Today was the day the first article would be published. After preparing a simple breakfast of bread, eggs, and tea, he sat down at his table, unfolded the morning newspaper, and scanned the pages.
His eyes quickly found what he was looking for.
There it was—the article he had written. It was printed prominently on one of the inner pages, with no name attached to it. Just as he had instructed. The language was slightly modified, softened in certain areas, but the message was clear: the people of the lower districts were being oppressed, and the city's wealthy elite were tightening their grip. The call for rebellion was subtle but present, the words chosen to stir frustration without directly inciting violence.
Adonis smirked as he folded the paper and set it aside. The people were talking. The streets outside were already buzzing with murmurs of the article. As he finished his breakfast, he could hear snippets of conversation drifting up from the open windows below. The citizens didn't know who had written the article, and that anonymity made it all the more powerful. It could have come from any of them, from someone just like them.
After gathering his things, Adonis left his apartment and made his way through the busy streets. As he walked, he overheard more conversations about the article. A few shopkeepers spoke in hushed tones about the growing divide between the rich and poor. Some workers outside a factory whispered about the corruption in the Council. The seed had been planted, and it was beginning to take root.
The walk to the Council building felt longer than usual, his mind preoccupied with the growing momentum of his plan. Upon reaching the building, however, he was greeted by a surprise.
One of the Elders of the Council was waiting for him near the entrance.
The Elder, a stern-faced woman with graying hair, looked at Adonis with a piercing gaze. "Adonis," she called, her voice carrying a weight of authority. "Have you read this morning's paper?"
Adonis tensed but kept his composure, offering a calm nod. "I have, Elder. Quite the piece, isn't it?"
The Elder's eyes narrowed slightly. "Indeed. It seems someone has taken it upon themselves to stir the people with dangerous ideas. Thoughts of rebellion, injustice... It's something we'll need to keep a close eye on."
Adonis felt a flicker of nervousness but maintained his façade. "Do you believe it will cause any real unrest?"
The Elder paused, her gaze steady. "It's hard to say. But if this article is just the beginning, we could have a serious problem on our hands. I trust you'll keep your ear to the ground and report anything unusual?"
Adonis gave a slight bow, feigning concern. "Of course, Elder. I'll keep watch for any signs of trouble."
The Elder seemed satisfied with his response, and after a few more exchanged pleasantries, she dismissed him. Adonis walked away, his heart racing slightly from the encounter. He had been nervous, but not afraid. His plan was working, and even the Council was starting to feel the ripples.
The rest of the morning was spent completing small tasks and missions assigned to him by the Council, nothing too complex. It helped maintain his cover as a loyal member of their ranks. By lunchtime, he had finished his tasks and decided it was time to take the next step in his personal plan.
After a quick meal, Adonis made his way to a shop hidden in the city's back alleys. From the original Adonis's memories, he knew this place well. It was an arms dealer, a discreet one that dealt in both legal and illegal weapons.
The small, dimly lit shop was run by a gruff man with a scar across his face. "Looking for something in particular?" the dealer asked, his voice low and gravelly.
Adonis nodded, slipping into the role of the original Adonis seamlessly. "A pistol. Something reliable. And ammunition."
The dealer smirked. "I've got just the thing." He disappeared behind a counter and returned with a sleek, silver pistol. "This one's solid. Won't jam on you in a tight spot. And here—" he placed a box of bullets on the counter, "enough rounds to keep you busy."
Adonis inspected the weapon carefully, then nodded his approval. "I'll take it."
The deal was made quickly. The cost was high—1200 credits—but Adonis didn't hesitate. He needed this weapon for what was to come. After securing the pistol and its ammunition, he left the shop and returned to his apartment, the weight of the gun pressing lightly against his side as he walked.
Once back in his apartment, Adonis placed the pistol on the table and sat down. His eyes lingered on the weapon for a moment, thoughts swirling in his mind. His finances were now secure, his escape route planned, and the city's unrest was beginning to grow.
He had ten days until the uprising he was carefully orchestrating would reach its peak. Ten days to ensure everything was in place. His plan, though dangerous, was moving forward, and he needed to stay focused. One misstep, and the Council could turn its attention to him.
Adonis leaned back in his chair, the weight of the coming days settling over him. He had started this for survival, but as each day passed, he realized just how deeply he was entangled in the political and social threads of this world. His past life as Haruki, the mundane days of Earth, felt more distant now. This world, with its chains of fate and power, had become his reality.
He reached for the pistol again, running his fingers along its cool surface. He needed to prepare, not just physically but mentally. His future—his survival—depended on it. With the weapon now in his possession, Adonis felt a sense of control. If things went wrong, at least he wouldn't be defenseless.
As the sun dipped below the horizon and night settled over the city, Adonis allowed himself a moment of rest. Tomorrow, the second article would be published, and the tension in the city would rise another notch. The false uprising was set to explode, and when it did, Adonis would be long gone, a ghost in the wind, moving toward the capital and the next phase of his life.
But tonight, he would sleep with one eye open and the pistol within reach.
The storm was coming, and Adonis intended to be ready.