Summer was in full force, the sun sharp on my shoulder as I peeked out the window. Everything looked as usual… almost.
One headline on the newspaper caught my eye—off, somehow.
"Atomic Plague. Nagasaki Wiped Out — Daily Express."
My brain stuttered. I searched for a match, a memory. Nothing.
And I don't say this lightly—humble as I try to be, poverty taught me a lot of things.
Snapping out of my thoughts, I leaned in to read the article again. There was… nothing.
Conflicted, I turned, ready to ask someone if they saw the same thing.
Then—
"OI, get your damn shoes!"
Jason. Shouting my name like a fool, as always.
I smiled. A real one, for the first time in what felt like forever. How long had it been since I smiled—not the forced kind, but something real?
It wasn't really his fault, to be honest. He'd grown up with his own kind of struggle. Just like me.
I'd barely weighed anything as a kid—always hungry, always cold.
Still, I used to think I was lucky. I had a family. Until I didn't.
My father, ever the optimist, died beneath the wheel of some snow-rich kid's luxury car. That day, a scrawny boy with too-bright blue eyes met despair head-on. Eternal hunger wasn't enough, it seemed. A few days later, my mother—crushed beneath grief—left only a note and a rope behind.
And that's how a six-year-old boy ended up standing on the edge of a fourth-floor railing, contemplating if life was really worth it.
"Oi, idiot! That's a terrible way to end the story, you know."
The voice cut through the silence like a blade.
It didn't sound like it belonged in my head.
Startled, I looked around. A boy—about my age—stood below. Clean, rich, arrogant-looking.
"Who… who are you?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
The boy smirked, crossing his arms. "Jason. And more importantly—aren't you supposed to be the writer of your own story?"
"What do you mean?" I asked, blinking at him like he was an exotic animal.
"I mean," he said, shrugging, "why end your life in such a quick and pathetic way? Don't you think that's kind of lazy storytelling?"
I stared. My legs wobbled. Then, slowly, I stepped back down to solid ground.
"And how am I supposed to change that?" I asked quietly.
Jason grinned. "Well, for starters, you can work for me. And trust me—it comes with prestige."
"…Will it get me something to eat?" I asked hopefully.
Jason looked at the mess that was me—ragged clothes, bony limbs, hollow cheeks—and laughed.
"Oh, you're in for a ride, my friend."
Author note : I know guys initial chapter is short so I will try to increase release to 2 chapters a day until I get used to word counts and thank you for reading story .