His Name was Rick Miller

Paul went wide-eyed. His brain didn't seem to function and the knife plunged into his heart, his breath caught sharply as the blade made contact, the sensation of pressure followed by a searing pain radiating from the wound. His legs, however, operated independently and they kicked away the masked man, ripping him away from the weapon.

The wound, though shallow, sent a jolt of intense discomfort through their body, causing them to gasp in pain. The initial shock gave way to a throbbing ache, the area around the injury tingling and stinging as adrenaline surged through their veins.

"W-what the—" Paul's hand instinctively pressed against the wound and the embedded blade, his fingers coming away with a smear of crimson. Despite the shallowness of the wound, blood welled up, staining his clothes.

A shallow stab, nothing life-threatening.

In an instant, he locked onto the masked assailant. He was tall, strong, and recovering abnormally fast. Paul was an Amateur Knifeman, which meant he was given the Class Skill Super Speed Lv. 1, which was further upgraded into Super Speed Lv. 2 and 3 via the Knifeman skill tree. Speed was his forte, not strength or durability.

Paul's HP started to drop. His heart throbbed from the looming threat of metal ripping it into pieces.

"Haa, haa…." His heavy breathing wouldn't stop. Panic settled in the masked man took a step forward. Suddenly, he was reminded of the stories Kazi told of the Teke Teke—of the ghost train he was in. But then, above, he saw a name, a level, and an unknown class. This person…

"W-wait, wait! You're a player, right?" What could he say? Did he have anything of value? He was a slave. A nobody. Somebody whose life had wasted away. His family hated him and his friends—

"Paul? Is that your name? I'm Kazi. Are you afraid of trains maybe?"

"Ah, understandable! Don't be scared. It's a steam engine train. I think the model is post 1928 judging by the classification, so we should be fine. No explosions or huge bumps"

Kazi crossed his arms and joked, "She's from Seoul, she loves pollution. Right?"

"Mhm, gasoline is delicious. The worse the air quality, the better."

"Go Fish!"

"Paul, you have a natural poker face!"

"It's a date. No take backs."

"Are you, um…flirting…with me?"

"Yes, I am! I'm into the sleepy types, if you know what I mean."

"I'm sorry. Could we just…sleep?"

"Sure."

In a single instant, his life flashed before his very eyes, and what he remembered most were the past two days. The past two days of smiles and happiness. Of Kazi's dimples and of Ksenia's gracious eyes.

He had friends. Strong, powerful friends.

And then he was reminded of the darkness that chained his heart. He remembered the monster. If he died here, if his life ended, then he wouldn't have a chance to warn them. He had to! Even at the cost of his life, they needed to be made aware of HIM.

"I don't know who you are, but you have to listen to me! Listen to me! I can't die just yet! I have to warn about Da—" Paul's voice stopped in his throat. The command to not speak his name activated. He gagged, like a hand had grabbed his uvula. "The monster! Da—"

His voice choked as an inexplicable burn erupted in his heart. In that very same moment, the train entered the tunnel and whatever screams he had to give were muffled from the noise.

'M-my heart! My heart!' It was beating so damn hard! 'Why? What's happening to me!? Is it because I'm talking about—'

[ Contract of Obedience breached! ]

[ Contract of Obedience breached! ]

[ Contract of Obedience breached! ]

[ Warning! Death sentence applied! ]

Thump–! Thump—! Thump—!

"Gah!" Paul keeled over, hands clutching his precious nucleus, and begged. Tears were streaming down his face.

The man in the white mask…

"What the…?"

…stepped back as a faint luminescence shimmered from within Paul. His heart. His very heart was starting to—

Thump–! Thump—! Thump—!

His frantic attempts to communicate faltered as his breaths became shallow and laboured, his chest heaving with an inexplicable pressure building within. 'T-this light, where is it—'

No, it didn't matter. He needed to speak. He needed to tell someone, anyone!

"Y-you don't understand! That monster, he—mmmph! The monster in human hide! He'll kill you! All of you! Someday, maybe not today, but h-he will—raaaaaagh!"

Thump–! Thump—! Thump—! Thump–! Thump—! Thump—!

His heart was racing a hundred beats a second. The light grew and the knife slipped from his chest. A surge of raw energy rippled through his body, causing him to convulse.

"I don't wanna die. I have so much more to see. Ksenia…"

His heart reached a crescendo, the glow intensifying to a blinding brilliance. An anguished cry escaped his lips before an explosive burst echoed through the air.

THUMP–!

***

"I'm just using the computer." Rick Miller wore a small smile. "I used to be a student here. I promise, I won't cause any trouble."

"Of course, of course." The pretty lady smiled at him. His heart fluttered. "I can get you a library card too. Just come up with me to the front."

"Oh, no. I just need to check some stuff. Thank you though," Rick replied. The young brunette gave him a thin smile and left him alone after that. He went back to the computer and typed in his online banking information—

"Sir." The deep voice caught Rick off guard and he turned up to see two gruff security officers. The taller of the two frowned as he looked him up and down and said, "We just want to talk to you."

Rick didn't understand. But then out of the corner of his eye, he saw her: the young librarian. She had called the security on him.

Why? Why was his life like this? Why did everyone hate him?

He was humiliated, talked down, and kicked out. Without anything to do, he went home. A dirty, messy place with unwashed dishes and broken boxes of pizza. Like a trail, the mess led to one place: his mom's room.

"Hey, Mom," Rick greeted.

His mom was thin and sickly, and spent a majority of her time eating. The television across from her, her body covered in blankets and sitting up with pizza in her lap, she didn't turn to him. He saw her smile and saw her deepen her focus on the drama.

"Mom?"

"Oh, Ricky, my lovely." She still didn't look at him. "Did you have a nice day? Did the neighbours' money go through?"

"I, um, didn't get to see if the deposit went through," Rick said. If only the library didn't kick him out…

"Oh, it's okay." Even now, she wasn't looking at him. "I'm sure it will come in eventually."

"Okay."

"I'm going to go to work tomorrow so I'm sleeping in. Remember, I won't be here for a week, it's a long haul," Rick said.

Finally, his mom looked at him. Finally, she smiled at him.

"I know, dear. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. Oh, but you did fill up on food, right?"

Rick smiled just as brightly as she did. "I did."

"Thank you, dear. I love you."

Then, she went back to her show. Then, Rick went to his own room and went to sleep. It was their typical schedule. It was Rick Miller's dull, unorthodox life.

'As long as mom's around, I'll be okay.'

That was what he thought till the day she died.

Upon returning from his week-long venture, he discovered her dead in her bed. According to the doctors, she died of a stroke. The body had been cold for three days.

In other words, nobody had checked on her. Nobody even noticed her.

After that, his world went dark. A strange pair of hands weighed down on his shoulders. Some nights, when he was tired, his mom would massage them.

Not anymore. Now, Rick was alone.

His dad didn't learn about her death until half a year after. He called Paul, muttered his apologies and condolences, and invited him for a private dinner. Just the two of them, no older brother or trophy wife involved

From the start, it was a tense, stupid affair. What else did his dad expect?

Rick sat across from his father, his gaze fixed on his plate and his clenching. His dad had gotten old over the years, almost as old as his mom. The towering power he had simmered. Lines went down his face and he struggled to find the right words to bridge the chasm that had widened between them.

His dad cleared his throat, the sound echoing in the strained quietness of the dining table. "Rick, I notice you have a job."

Rick's grip tightened on his utensils, his knuckles turning white. His eyes flickered up briefly. "A truck driver."

"A…truck driver." His dad swallowed hard and looked away. "I'm sorry."

"What's so wrong about that? I live my life, you live yours."

"I…it's not about that. I just want forgiveness—!"

The remark got on his nerves. "You don't deserve it."

"Don't I? I've been working day-in, day-out, standing proud, while you…you've been driving trucks! Our family does not do truck drivers." There it was, the prickly attitude of a high-class man. His brows furrowed, his voice roaring, he added, "I wish I could change the past, but I can't. Ricky, why don't you come with me? I can take you under my wing. I can give you money, and with money comes a good woman and a family. You know I'm right."

"Are you?" Rick muttered. "You had all the money in the world yet you still managed to screw up our family."

His dad grimaced. "Always with that. Your mother was a sickly, lazy woman—"

"Who you could have helped but chose not to!" Rick retorted. In the past, he was meek and pathetic towards his dad. A wimp. Not anymore, not when he had nothing to lose. "You abandoned her!"

His dad didn't speak. Instead, he narrowed his eyes deeper and judged him deeper. "You think you've changed, don't you? But I know you. I've seen you when you were at school and at home. You're just angry. You're like your mom, pretending you can be normal but in actuality just a ticking time bomb."

"I'm proud to be like mom—"

"As if. You know her. You've lived with her now. She's a leech."

Rick stood up. His dad did the same. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. She was a lazy, dumb bitch that never once had to work in her life. I didn't even know someone could be so ungrateful until I met her—"

"Shut up!" Rick slammed the table. The room went silent. His heart started to race. "You're just making excuses!"

"Am I?" His dad sighed in the way that he hated most. In a way that caused visceral hatred. In a way that looked down on him, his mom, and everything he had accomplished in life. "You're always like this, huh? Too damn proud and too damn stupid. Just like your mom. No wonder she died. With a son like you…"

He trailed off and shook his head. Rick couldn't believe what he had just said. He couldn't believe that a man so heartless could exist.

Why? Why did he get to exist when his mom didn't? How come he received all the glory and money, while he and his mother were left to rot?

It wasn't fair. It was so damn unfair!

His breathing accelerating, his mind in a swirl of hate and frustration, Rick picked up a nearby utensil and threw at his father's chest.

Squelch! His dad went wide eyed. A crimson red liquid dripped down to the plate on the table. "R-Ricky…?"

His eyes followed and saw the knife lodged into his heart. Thud! His dad fell on his back, too old and withered to fight back. To live on.

'Oh, god.'

Realization dawned too late as regret and horror flooded Rick's being. With panic coursing through his veins, he fled, his footsteps pounding against the pavement. The same lonely feeling pressed on his shoulders as he started up his truck and drove. That same loneliness persisted as dread seeped into his heart.

His foot pressed on the pedal through the anger, the rage, and the regret. He went faster, faster!

Tears streaked his face, mingling with the rain that lashed against the windshield, blurring his vision. 'The knife, the damn knife, I didn't…I didn't mean to! B-but he deserved it! He did!'

His focus wavered. He hit something and the car swerved, tires skidding against the slick pavement.

BANG!

A blur of lights and screeching tires, the world spun out of control as Rick careened down a dark, deserted road. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as the car plummeted down the embankment, a heart-stopping descent into darkness. The sickening crunch of metal against earth reverberated through the night.

Silence descended, broken only by the pitter-patter of rain and the haunting stillness of the wreckage. Rick Miller, doused in his own blood, shards of glass piercing his face, stared into the darkness ahead. He could not look back from it.

A tear ripped from the corner of his eye. "I really wish…I got to spend…more time with everyone."

He was the servant of the greatest monster the Heavenly Games had ever seen. A calculated evil that burned whatever it deemed unworthy.

Rick Miller was unworthy. Paul was unworthy.

Everything seemed so cold, but then a glimmer appeared in his vision. He cried.

"I need that…"

A small, insignificant glimmer of light. An image of what could have been. His friends, his mother…

Even his father.

"I need it! Please…!"

He reached for the light. He yearned for it, wanting it to melt away the coldness that was gripping his chest.

He kept reaching, reaching, reaching, till he touched it. He felt a mellow warmth and grasped it. A small smile spread across his lips.

Only for his world to fall. Only for him to find that it was his own beating heart. His hands wet with his own blood, his world turned to complete darkness.