I was not interested in joining this game, if I'm to be very honest. If not for the money, I would have just stayed home playing video games as I do.
My name is Ken Sudoko, I'm 19. I dropped out of college in my first year and I just live now on money from a small job at a magazine, newspaper, and comic store, which pays me enough to eat, pay rent for the little room I have, and live my life, which includes playing video games, watching movies and shows and stuff, and reading comics and novels. That's my life, and that's all that matters to me really. I needed no higher job—shit's too exhausting, no friends or family—shit's too exhausting again, and no girl—if I was horny, I could just watch porn and masturbate, and girlfriend is, third time, too exhausting. If you think I'm a lowlife, so be it, and I'm satisfied.
There is a girl about my age who works at the shop with me, Daisy. She is apparently some relative of the owner, Kachiji uncle. I don't know much about her except she is talkative and quite high-spirited—annoying if you ask me, but everyone seems to like her somehow. We don't meet much, fortunately, since her shift starts when mine ends. She tried to talk to me initially, but I was cold and ignored her, making sure it was visible, and with time she realised too that I don't want to be talked to and minds her own business. Though she still says "Hi!" with a smile when I'm leaving, and I just nod; I don't smile outside my home, only my pages and screens at home have seen my grin.
So that was my life. I went to the shop, stayed there morning 10 to 5, and then Daisy comes at 4–5 and stays till 9. She was in some college, so it was a part-time for her and full-time for me. Then I would go home—little 2 rooms, right side, 3rd floor of the apartment. It's all a mess when you walk in, I don't have shelves or a chair, everything's on the floor—few books and my laptop lying in a pool of crumbs and packets and cans, my TV and console in one corner on the floor and a water filter and bottles in the other. I'll eat if I'm so hungry that the game and movie can't numb it, or else not eat anything. My diet consists of cup noodles and biscuits and cream breads. I eat once a day, just enough to keep myself alive, thus I'm thin despite my lifestyle.
That's all about my life, really. Terrible existence, I know.
Well, no one gives a fuck about my life, I just said it so you know me. And now that the lame part is over, let's get to the story, that you're here for.
It was December 23rd. The morning was cold, even at 10:30. I was among the bookshelves arranging the books according to their genre while Kachiji uncle sat at the counter. He is almost always there in both mine and Daisy's shift, leaves once in a few hours with an "I'll be right back" (which he does), but mostly he's there, sitting at the counter. He is the one who interacts with the customers, not 'cause I can't, but because of the look on my face that puts off the customers, and my brutal honesty with my opinions. So Kachiji handles them and has specially told me to keep my mouth shut. I can't deal with people with that ridiculous smile that he and Daisy bring out so naturally. I just know which book is where, so he greets the customers and I just lead them, and the rest of the time I'm cleaning or arranging the books.It was early, so not many customers were there.A kid came in and asked, "Is the new issue of Gintamon here?" with a wide bright grin, something you would think is foreign to me. Kachiji uncle looked at me and I nodded, and he said, "Yes boy, it's here!" And the boy jumped in excitement and ran to me with wide eyes. "Here," I said and led him to the magazine corner and pulled out the latest issue and tossed it at him. He caught it and went off, while I stood there wondering what was so special about Gintamon—it was but an average story.
I once asked a kid that and recommended my favourite shows, mostly thriller, crime and stuff (I have a keen interest in gore too), but Kachiji scolded the shit out of me for something like "polluting the minds" of the kids or some shit, and I just listened silently but was like, dude, you're the one preventing them from the real good stuff. I mean, I get it, but I don't.
Some other incidents happened too—I was almost fired for handing a middle schooler a porn manga, 'cause the story was pretty good, rape-murder type shit, plot too good, and I was like, your parents didn't do holy bath to give you birth, they had sex, you'll have it too, and you'll search for these yourself and jerk off to BDSM in a few years, so what's the matter?
Sales of a few novels dropped 'cause I "pushed" them, like Kachiji said, to other novels and said, "If you're gonna buy this, get outta here, you've got no taste." But I was being honest, the fuck is wrong with that?
Again, one time I almost got fired 'cause I would say, "What matters what happens in the news, shit happens! Rather read something good!"—which I used to say to people who bought magazines, philosophy novels, and all those torturous boring shit. And they started buying from other places. Kachiji apologised to them and death-glared at me.
I was like that the initial days, but I stopped and started doing only what I was told, 'cause I needed the money.
And well, it's their loss anyway, they are missing out on good stuff. If they wanna be boring (which most people are), so be it, not my fault. I've stopped giving a fuck.
And it ain't too hard for me 'cause most of them prefer not talking to me and rather take my help via Kachiji 'cause of, like I said, the look on my face, and all this. But it's always the same—I'm this way, can't help it.
If they have come with what they wanna buy already in mind, they say to Kachiji and I lead them. And if they are looking through the alleys and choosing, not-really-sure types, I just provide them the facts about the book, keeping my personal opinion away, and they decide on that. That's all the interaction I have, if you count that.
Later that day, a woman came for some book on gardening, a few other kids for Gintamon and other comics (it was new issues day after all), a couple came for a few love story books (they are better in my opinion—romance is not my type but it's not BORING at least), a nice guy came asking for some good dark thrillers (that's why he is nice) and I gave him the best. An annoying girl made me cite the plots of all the books in the fantasy novels alley, only to take Harry Potter in the end.
And then at around 12, uncle Kachiji said, "I'll be right back," and went away. A girl came in and searched for him, I said he's gone and she went away too, looking at my corpse face. Same happened with another one who I was briefing the plots of a few comics but he didn't like my tone and went away with a hasty "I will come back." Then a guy came in asking for some good philosophy—I went through the torturous process of giving briefs of those boring books, and then he chose one and went away. Boring as he was, I like people like them who don't care about the tone or expression and just take the info and go accordingly.
And then came a man in a hat and long coat. There was something intriguing about him, something telling my instincts to stay away from him. People get that vibe from me, but I've never really gotten such vibes from someone else.
I pushed away that feeling. I'm good at turning off any emotion or whatever I'm feeling at the moment, at will, and going neutral like I always am. My emotion range is not much anyway, you can tell.
He stood there at the counter and I went to him, but he didn't say anything looking at me, he was just looking around. So I thought maybe he didn't need any help and was about to go when he said, "Ken Sudoko."
I froze there. How did he know my name? Who was he?
He came to me while I turned to him in confusion and put forward his hand saying, "Nice to meet you, I am Demed."
I instinctively shook his hand while still confused. "Do I know you?"
He said, "No, you don't, but I know you. I know where you live, how you live," and then he came closer and leaned forward and said, "And I know about your past."
I couldn't say anything. There was no way he knew about my past, about all those things—no way! I was concerned, I had questions, a lot. I uttered gravely,
"What do you want?"
He smirked and from his coat's inner pocket brought out a card—a playing card—and it was the JOKER card. He put that forward to me and said, "I want you to play a game."