"Ugh..."
After sighing at the loss of his handsome appearance, he decided it was time to move on with his life, make plans, and prepare for what he'd have to face tomorrow.
"Yeah, my supervisor is going to eat me alive if I don't give him a proper explanation."
Remembering the scary face of his immediate boss from the memories of the original Satoru, a wry smile appeared on his lips. While he probably wouldn't be fired immediately due to his several years of service, it would still be hell. He'd most definitely be worked to death for the next few weeks for his supposed 'insubordination' and 'indiscipline' at the workplace.
If he were the previous Satoru Suzuki, he'd be glad not to be fired and would do the overtime with a smile. Unfortunately, he was a different man now.
Just thinking about what he'd have to endure because of a single day of absence brought a heinous and ugly feeling to his chest, weighing him down. Remembering all the things that Satoru considered regular occurrences, things 'not worth mentioning,' made him want to vomit, but he barely controlled his reaction.
Seeing the bodies of young children and women on the streets, hearing how an entire family was killed for not paying their loans on time—it was like a daily occurrence in this world, without exceptions.
In fact, from everything he had absorbed from Satoru Suzuki, he'd go as far as to say he was pretty fortunate even as a corporate slave in this society. Though he couldn't hope to afford a decent lifestyle, at least he was alive.
Stepping out of the bathroom lost in these thoughts, he found himself standing in the middle of his modest apartment.
A small hallway stretched before him, connecting various compartments of his humble abode.
In fact, looking at things from the perspective of an 'old-worlder,' where simply being alive and unharmed was a luxury, his apartment was not bad at all.
To the left was the entrance door, a massive monstrosity wrapped in metal parts. It served more as a deterrent than a security barrier—anyone determined to enter wouldn't be hindered.
A wry smile appeared on his lips at that thought, though he doubted anyone would bother with his rundown apartment if they wanted to steal anything.
Ahead, automatic motion sensors triggered the ceiling lights to flicker on, casting a sterile white glow across the hallway and beyond.
Near the entrance, the ancient air purifier rumbled to life as he moved, its familiar background noise part of his daily routine.
To his right, the hallway led into the heart of the apartment—a sparse yet functional living space.
The kitchen, a small space nestled in the corner, lacked cooking utensils save for a sink and a few hand towels. It stood out like a barren outpost.
Recalling that he hadn't eaten anything but a certain brand of packaged gravy and vitamin capsules to survive until now, he felt sorrow for Satoru and everyone who lived in this world. But his tears had already dried up; now he grimly accepted everything.
"I really can't live like this, not even a second more!"
Though he could probably survive with the experience he had as Satoru Suzuki, the part of him that was 'Rahul' revolted at the thought of touching that disgusting thing he called 'food.'
Actually eating that to survive would probably kill him instantly.
Taking a break from his dissatisfaction with radioactive garbage dressed up as food, he surveyed the rest of the place.
Opposite the kitchen were three doors lined up in the hallway, each leading to essential rooms.
The first door on the left opened to a compact toilet, its simplicity echoing the apartment's overall theme. Next to it, the bathroom door led back to where he had just come from, revealing a similarly basic setup—a shower area enclosed by worn but clean tiles.
Further down the hallway, the third door on the right marked the entrance to his bedroom.
It was the place where he had woken up as Satoru Suzuki this morning, the place where his world had been turned upside down.
Approaching the room, he noted the familiarity he felt for the space—a small, intimate retreat where he slept and indulged in his private pursuits.
Inside, a black frame about a meter wide rested on a stand, housing what appeared to be a setup for his entrance into the virtual world. A comfortable chair with a footrest stood invitingly before it, accompanied by a wheeled table bearing a remote control and various cables—a shrine to his leisure and escape from reality.
Standing before what was probably the most prized possession of Satoru Suzuki, both materially and emotionally, an unknown feeling welled up in his chest. His entire being urged him to sit down and enjoy his favorite hobby—the thing that gave meaning to his life, perhaps the only thing he was living for.
His 'Rahul' part was also curious about the chair and the virtual world, but he quickly suppressed these feelings deep within his heart.
Although he really wanted to experience all nine worlds of Yggdrasil and see everything they had to offer, the idea of entering a virtual world made entirely of zeros and ones was an exciting prospect for any science student. However, he knew time wasn't on his side.
On the wall beside the setup, a holographic calendar hung, clearly showing where he stood on the timeline. He was at most a year away from the server shutdown—based on when it happened, perhaps only a few months remained.
'Time is running out.'
He needed to quickly design and implement his plans if he wanted to achieve his goals before the server shutdown, or the consequences could be grave.
Thinking about becoming an emotionless husk of a skeleton, a cold shudder ran down his spine, and he instinctively reached out to confirm the existence of his most prized possession. Feeling it, a relieved sigh escaped his lips.
Quickly withdrawing his hand, he turned his attention to other things in the room.
The room itself was sparsely furnished, the central cluster of the virtual setup dominating the space. Apart from these essentials, the room held little else—a stark contrast to the clutter of his previous life.
Returning to the hallway, Satoru noticed a pile of work clothing, an air filtering mask, and goggles neatly stacked in the corner of his bedroom—a routine he meticulously followed, evidence of his disciplined approach to life.
As he took in the sight of his modest abode, 'Satoru' felt a strange mix of familiarity and detachment.
"This is now my reality."
It was the truth. He was now nothing more than a middle-aged Japanese man enslaved by a mega-corporation, named Satoru Suzuki. 'Rahul,' the bright Indian IIT student, was dead somewhere in Bombay in 2014, while Satoru was still alive in 2137. Dealing with this mess was now his problem.
"Ugh..."
Thinking about the heap of issues that was Satoru Suzuki's life, a slight groan was all he could muster. The groan was filled with all his frustrations and anger, which he tried to suppress. But at the end of the day, the choice was already out of his hands.
Taking a deep breath and resigning himself to his fate, he quietly resolved to do his best to escape this hellhole they called a world, with everything in its proper place.
Once again wincing at the thought of 'losing it' and becoming a worthless pile of bones, he strengthened his determination to do his best.
"What's even the point of all that power if I end up losing you?"