Like every morning, I wake up to the sight of a simple meal waiting for me on the table: an egg, a small chunk of cheese, and a slice of bread. In the slum I live in, this is a rare luxury—a meal that others would trade hours of grueling labor for. My sister must have left it for me before heading out. She's already gone, out working like always, though I still don't know exactly what she does to bring this food home.
I rise and glance into the cracked mirror propped up against the wall. My reflection greets me: a handsome face, sharp features, and striking white hair that almost glows against the dim, artificial light that buzzes weakly above me. It's a rarity here, where most people look worn down, their faces hardened by years of struggle. Even the best-looking people in the slums barely reach "ordinary." My sister and I stand out, and that makes me uneasy.
The slums are crammed into the lowest levels of what I've come to understand is a colossal, city-spanning tower. From here, sunlight is a distant memory—or maybe just a dream. The sky is nothing more than layers upon layers of metal, and the air is thick with the smell of rust, oil, and human despair. Filthy runoff drips endlessly from the upper levels, and every surface feels damp, slick with grime. The dim light comes from flickering panels embedded in the walls and ceiling, a far cry from anything resembling daylight.
It's been a week since I woke up in this world—a week of confusion, piecing together bits of knowledge like shards of broken glass. I don't belong here, not in the way others do. There's a faint sense of displacement, like a blurry dream I can't quite remember. But I've learned enough to understand the rules of this place, and they're brutal.
In this world, the rich don't just have wealth; they live in the heavens above, basking in sunlight and luxury. They have power embedded in their very DNA. They pay scientists to manipulate their children before they're born, engineering perfection into their genes. Beauty, intelligence, strength—everything about them is crafted to an absurd degree. Even the son of a middle-class merchant could outrun Usain Bolt or lift weights that would shatter Eddie Hall's records.
And then there's me. I seem... average. Too average. Aside from my good looks—which feel more like a curse than a blessing in a place like this—I've noticed no enhancements, no remarkable traits that would make me stand out in a world where power is everything. I don't know why I'm here, or why my sister and I are different, but the questions gnaw at me constantly.
I pick up the strange smartphone sitting on the table—a sleek, futuristic device that seems out of place in this rundown shack. It's been my lifeline this past week, my only way to gather scraps of information about the world I've been thrust into. Unfortunately, I don't have access to this world's equivalent of the internet; the device only holds preloaded books and documents, along with a few tools I'm still figuring out how to use. Everything I know so far has come from those files or from the vague hints my sister has let slip.
From what I've gathered, this tower isn't just a city; it's a world unto itself. The higher you go, the better life becomes. The air is cleaner, the people stronger, more beautiful, and infinitely richer. Up there, they have sunlight, green parks, and endless opportunities—things that don't even seem real to someone like me. Down here, in the dark, we're barely human. The unimproved, like me, are treated as little more than vermin.
It's not just money or status that separates us—it's biology. People here aren't born equal. The rich have had their genes perfected before birth, while people like me are left to scrape by with nothing. Strength, intelligence, beauty, even supernatural powers—it's all engineered into them, creating a hierarchy so rigid it feels unshakable.
My main goal now is simple: survive. Learn as much as I can, gather every scrap of knowledge, and figure out how to climb this tower, both figuratively and literally. I don't know how I'll do it yet, but I need to find a way to rise. One day, I want to become rich enough to change our lives—to give my sister the peace she deserves and carve out a place for myself in a world that sees me as nothing.
For now, though, I'm stuck here. In the shadowed depths of the tower. With nothing but a rare meal on the table and a faint, stubborn hope that somehow, I'll find a way to change everything.