After a long day spent at the mechanic workshop, Ivaim let out a weary sigh.
His hands were still tinged with grease, and the smell of oil seemed to cling to his clothes no matter how many times he wiped them.
The constant hum of machinery and the rhythmic clank of tools had become background noise by now, but it didn't make the exhaustion fade any quicker.
He glanced at the clock above the workbench—it was nearly closing time.
The shop had started winding down. Harvin, the gruff mechanic boss, was packing up his tools, tossing things into a heavy wooden chest with practiced precision.
Maris, the woman who had first pointed him in Harvin's direction, was organizing the cluttered counter, wiping down surfaces and putting away the last of the parts.
"Another day, another mess to clean up," Harvin grumbled as he finished locking up the chest. "Get over here, Ivaim. You're not off the clock yet."
Ivaim walked over, brushing off his hands. "What now? I thought we were done for the day."
Harvin shot him a look, his eyes narrow but not unkind.
"I need to make sure you know the ropes before you leave. Wouldn't want you messing things up tomorrow."
Ivaim gave a half-smile. "I think I can handle a few wires and gears, old man."
"Don't get cocky," Harvin muttered as he reached for a set of schematics spread across the table. "If you're staying, you're staying. You learn the hard way, or you don't learn at all."
Ivaim shrugged, leaning against the wall. "Fair enough."
As the minutes passed and the shop quieted down, Ivaim couldn't help but reflect on the day.
He'd worked through the late hours, helping to fix broken machines, rewiring circuits, and even calibrating a few delicate devices. It was all simple work, but it made him feel... out of place.
He glanced over at Maris, who was humming a tune as she tucked away the last of the tools.
'A Reality Master... working so I can give my 'minions' their rewards,' Ivaim thought bitterly. 'This feels quite pathetic.'
Maris glanced over at him and raised an eyebrow. "You're looking a little too serious for a guy who just helped fix half the shop."
Ivaim blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. "I was just... thinking."
"Don't hurt yourself," she teased with a grin, though there was a glint of curiosity in her eyes. "You've got a lot more going for you than you let on. Not many people would've caught on to those machines so quickly."
Ivaim shrugged, brushing off the compliment. "I just have a knack for it. Nothing special."
Harvin, who had been silently watching from the corner, snorted. "You've got skill. I'll give you that. But it's not about having a knack. It's about knowing how to make it last."
Ivaim looked at him, the weight of the words settling in. It was strange to hear something so simple from someone who had spent years working in the field.
"So, what's next?" Ivaim asked, half-joking, half-serious. "You want me to fix your personal washer next, or am I done for the day?"
Harvin chuckled gruffly, gathering his things. "You've earned your pay for today. But come back tomorrow. I've got more work, and I don't like being short-handed."
Maris nodded, her playful expression replaced with a more serious one. "You did good today, Ivaim. Don't let it go to your head, but you've got a spot here if you want it."
Ivaim felt a brief flicker of something—appreciation, maybe. For all his frustrations, these were honest people. They worked hard, and in a strange way, he could respect that.
"Thanks," he said, nodding toward them both. "I'll think about it."
...
After stepping back into his Fractured Reality, Ivaim immediately felt a chill crawl up his spine. His eyes snapped to the figure ahead of him.
It was another him.
The figure sat calmly, looking back at him with an almost eerily familiar expression. On "his" lap was the brown cat, curled up contentedly, nuzzling into the clone's chest.
Ivaim's heart skipped a beat, panic rising in his chest.
'What the hell?' he thought, his mind racing. Was it some kind of illusion? A trap?
But before he could react, his thoughts cleared as the reality of the situation dawned on him.
'Oh, right. The cat.'
He exhaled slowly, trying to calm the sudden surge of panic. This wasn't some strange new trick or an enemy. The brown cat had a peculiar ability—one that allowed it to summon clones of people based on their emotional attachments.
Ivaim had almost forgotten about it, but it made sense now. The cat was likely manifesting an emotional projection of him.
"I almost forgot he could do this…" Ivaim muttered under his breath, shaking his head in mild exasperation.
He glanced down at the system information.
[User Info]
[Name] : The Lonely Cat
[Rank] : Memory (Lower-Tier)
[State] : Bound (Master : Spirit with Good Luck)
[Abilities] :
[Attachment Clone] : Allows user to summon a clone of a target's "emotionally attached" figure
[Authority Held] : Duplication : Memory-level (Lower-tier)
Ivaim frowned, remembering how the cat had been instrumental in helping him during that trial he set up for Reves.
The cat's ability to duplicate memories and create clones tied to emotional connections was both strange and useful.
He could somewhat command the cat, though it had its own peculiar way of operating.
'I can somewhat command him since he's bound to me' Ivaim mused quietly. 'He's the one who helped me clone Reves' 'father' during that trial…'
Before he could finish the thought, the brown cat—seemingly aware that its duplicate had outlived its purpose—dismissed the clone with a soft, almost nonchalant flick of its tail.
The clone disappeared into the air with a faint shimmer.
The cat then padded over to Ivaim, rubbing itself against his legs in its usual affectionate manner, purring loudly.
Ivaim smiled despite himself, reaching down to scratch the cat behind its ears.
"You really do like making things complicated, don't you?"
The cat meowed contentedly, nuzzling his hand.
Ivaim chuckled. "Well, at least you're not trying to copy me for a third time."
He paused, thinking. "I guess, in a way, you're just reminding me how connected we all are."
He scratched the cat's head again, the purring intensifying in response. "Good luck always comes in strange forms, doesn't it?"
The cat purred louder, its eyes half-closed in bliss as it rubbed against him, completely content to bask in Ivaim's attention.
Despite the oddity of the situation, Ivaim couldn't help but feel a bit more grounded, the weight of the day's challenges easing for just a moment.
Ivaim leaned back, rubbing his temples as the constant hum of the Fractured Reality seemed to pulse around him. The quiet solitude of the space, while often comforting, was starting to feel a bit too still. Just as he was about to lose himself in his own thoughts, a strange notification suddenly flashed before him.
[Your Walker, Kalisto, requests to enter the Fractured Reality]