Standing over a small desk was a young boy who looked no older than 15. The young boy could be seen staring at a piece of paper in great detail.
"I guess I really was cut out for artistry," the young boy said as he examined the paper.
On it was the drawing of a city's skyline. He didn't know which city it was; he remembered using it as his wallpaper in his past life, but this was incredible.
Even the color usage and everything else were just like in the image.
"With this, it wouldn't be hard to become a tattoo artist," the boy said with a smile.
He knew how hard life was and understood that it was easier to make it using something you were really good at, such as drawing.
"Nunez, what are you doing here, so late at night?" a voice resounded in the empty hall, as the boy turned around to see a nun staring at him.
"Ma'am... Urhh…" he replied, speechless.
Lights out was over two hours ago, and he had sneaked out just to test this out. He hadn't gotten used to this new place, and he had not received any memories when he came to this world.
Rather, he had had to piece things together from scratch—his name, age, and his talent for drawing. These were things he gathered from hearing people talk.
"You don't have to be so nervous. I guess you still remember how to draw even after the accident," the nun said with a reassuring smile as she approached him.
Nunez made way for her to see the drawing, which she picked up, and her smile grew even bigger.
This was the one thing he had learned since coming here: the nuns in this orphanage were actually kind to their wards. They may act only out of duty, but he could see the genuine care some of the nuns and volunteers put in.
"Still as amazing as ever. You know, the church will be holding a bazaar soon. How about you make some drawings to sell then?" the nun said, ignoring the fact that he had broken the orphanage rules.
"Really?" Nunez asked, surprised.
"Of course. You may not have much need for money now, but you're already 16. In just two more years, you will be an adult. The country is already harsh, and for kids like you, it is even harsher," she replied as she put down the drawing.
"Thank you," he said before sitting down to continue practicing.
"You're welcome, but return to your room before anyone else sees you," the nun said, collecting the pen from his hand.
"Okay, Ma," he replied before leaving.
The smile on his face remained even after he returned to his room. Truthfully, he didn't care much about her advice, but the bazaar suggestion was a great boon.
He didn't need money now, but selling his art would let him gauge how others viewed his work.
In his past life, he had died unremarkably, clinging to "satisfaction." Many preach gratitude for life, no matter its quality—but that fooled no one. A failure remained a failure.
He had owned neither a house, a rented car, nor even a second-hand car. He died a failure, but in this life, he hoped to succeed.
"Mr. Leon Nunez, don't worry. I'll ensure you live a better life from here on out," the boy said before closing his eyes to sleep.