Across the plaza, four men were taunting the girls, inching closer with their words dripping in false bravado.
One of them slung an arm around a girl's shoulder, coaxing a forced laugh from her, while the others circled like hungry vultures, their focus split between intimidation and pride.
Arjen Jurrien stepped into the light, his footsteps steady and purposeful. The men's laughter faltered as they caught sight of him, the atmosphere shifting ever so slightly.
"Names, all of them. Now." Arjen Jurrien said, his tone flat.
The four men exchanged puzzled looks before one of them let out a harsh laugh.
"What are you supposed to be? A debt collector or something?"
Arjen Jurrien's stare remained unflinching.
"Your debt is overdue."
The girls exchanged glances between the men and Arjen Jurrien, snickering.
"Debt? From him? He looks like he can't even afford his own dinner."
"Yeah, maybe he wants to pay with that ugly mug of his."
The men's grins widened, feeling emboldened. One of them stepped closer, looming over Arjen Jurrien, trying to assert his dominance.
"Kid, you don't just stroll up to us talking like that in front of women. You got a death wish?"
The jeers from the group of girls cut deeper, mocking his clothes, his singed appearance, his sheer audacity.
"Last chance. Names."
The guys just laughed, brushing off Assad's words as they turned their backs to him, eager to impress the girls nearby.
Suddenly, a deafening crack split the night. One of the men flew into the wall.
Everyone froze in place.
Arjen Jurrien stood where the man had just been, his leg still raised, silver eyes glimmering softly in the moonlight as he slowly lowered his foot, his expression unreadable.
The other three snapped out of their shock, fury igniting in their eyes.
"You bastard!" one of them yelled, charging forward with a wild swing.
Arjen Jurrien tilted his head slightly. In a flash, his hand shot up, catching the man's wrist mid-swing.
With a sharp twist and a brutal yank, the man's arm cracked like dry wood.
His scream echoed in the alley, cut short when Arjen drove his knee into the man's gut, folding him in half before tossing him aside like yesterday's trash.
The next attacker tried to circle around, swinging a rusted pipe. Arjen Jurrien didn't even glance his way.
He ducked low and drove his shoulder into the man's stomach, lifting him off the ground before slamming him onto the stone pavement with a bone-rattling thud.
The last one hesitated, sweat trickling down his face but whether it was pride or sheer stupidity, he charged forward with a roar, fists flying in a desperate flurry of punches.
Every punch was expertly dodged, redirected with a precision that suggested he had rehearsed this dance a thousand times.
His counterattack was brutal: a fist slammed into the jaw, a kick that snapped the man's knee, and an elbow that crashed into his temple.
By the time Arjen Jurrien was done, the man lay crumpled on the ground, twitching and unable to get back up.
The girls could only watch, their earlier smirks and giggles vanished as dust still lingered in the air where the first man had slammed into the wall.
Arjen rolled his shoulder, breathing steadily, as if it had all been just a warm-up. His icy gaze swept over the group.
He checked for the money and found only a small amount of money, which made him furious after all that,
'Damn, these idiots are already broke. What a waste of my time.Still though I have to praise myself,I'm still new to this body but I already know its fighting style.'
Without saying a word, he turned his back on them and walked toward the woman, who had been watching the whole scene with a sly smile playing on her lips.
As he walked back, Arjen wiped the blood from his knuckles, his footsteps echoing in the stunned silence of the alley.
He stopped in front of the woman, his chest rising and falling with calm, measured breaths.
"So, how did I do on your little test?"
The woman exhaled, smoke curling in the air between them her tinted glasses caught the soft glow of the moon, hiding most of her eyes but Arjen could feel her gaze piercing right through him.
"An eight," she replied flatly.
Arjen blinked. "…Out of what?"
She tapped her cigarette against her jacket, ash drifting to the ground.
"A million."
"What do you mean, eight out of a million? You saw what I just did! I took them down like it was nothing!"
She simply took a slow drag from her cigarette, the ember glowing bright red, before exhaling the smoke into the chilly night air..her voice was steady, almost disinterested, when she finally broke the silence.
"Name's Shuren. Remember it." With a flick of her wrist, she tossed the cigarette aside, crushing it beneath her boot.
"Oh, I guess I should introduce myself too. My name is... "
"Don't bother. I already know who you are."
Arjen Jurrien opened his mouth, still hoping for some kind of explanation, but Shuren had already turned away.
"Come on, we're going somewhere," she said matter-of-factly, stepping out of the alley without looking back.
Arjen Jurrien stood there for a moment, processing her words. "Eight out of a million", those words annoyed him.
He took off, following Shuren where she was heading to.
A dim lantern illuminated the sign of a little ramen shop. The place had seen better days; the paint was peeling, and the door creaked ominously on its hinges, but the mouthwatering aroma wafting out was simply irresistible.
"Sit," Shuren instructed as she settled onto a stool. The owner, an elderly man with weary eyes, didn't bother with questions; he just nodded at her and disappeared into the back.
Just a few minutes later, two steaming bowls appeared on the counter, the broth so rich that it fogged up the glass pane separating them from the street.
Shuren set her cigarette down on the table, balancing it between an ashtray and a napkin, then snapped her chopsticks apart with practiced ease.
She didn't hesitate. Her hands moved fluidly, drawing noodles and broth into her mouth with a steady, unhurried rhythm.
Arjen found himself staring at his bowl, llooking at the chopsticks. His fingers twitched awkwardly. He tried to imitate her, but the sticks slipped from his grip, clattering against the edge of the counter.
A few noodles splashed into the broth, leaving small stains on his sleeve.
"Tch." Arjen Jurrien muttered
He tried to find something inside of Assad's memories, anything would be helpful but there was no luck as Arjen could not find a single fragment of memory where Assad eats ramen.
Across from him, Shuren paused mid-bite, her eyes narrowing.
"…Why aren't you eating?"
Caught off guard, Arjen stiffened.
"I... uh…"
She leaned back slightly, observing him with that sharp, calculating gaze of hers. A thin wisp of smoke from her cigarette drifted between them.
"You don't know how to use chopsticks," she stated flatly.
Arjen felt a flush creep up his cheeks, bristling.
"Of course I do. It's just… been a while."
The chopsticks slipped from his hand again, clattering against the counter. His excuse crumbled in the silence.
Shuren exhaled through her nose, almost amused.
"Pathetic."
She picked up a noodle with her own chopsticks and held it out across the table
"Here."
The steam curled between them, carrying the scent of garlic and pork. Arjen blinked, caught between pride and hunger.
The noodle hung between them for what felt like an eternity before Arjen finally relented, leaning in and slurping it down in one clumsy bite. Shuren took her focus back on her bowl.
The shop fell into silence again, the only sound being the gentle bubbling of the broth simmering in the background.
Midway through her meal, she suddenly checked her wrist, her expression turned serious.
"Ah, crap. I completely forgot about it."
Arjen Jurrien raised an eyebrow, his chopsticks still quivering in his grip.
"Forgot what?"
Shuren pushed her bowl aside, flicked her cigarette into the ashtray, and stood up in one fluid motion.
"I've got somewhere to be so meet me at the other side of town and don't be late." Shuren said.
Arjen opened his mouth to protest, to ask what on earth she was talking about, but before he could even get the words out, she was gone.
The stool still spun slightly where she had been sitting, the smoke from her last drag curling in the air like a ghost that refused to fade away.
He sat there, frozen, staring at the empty spot she had left behind.
"What the…" he muttered, his heart racing.
A person reclined against a sloped rooftop with his arms behind his head, his half-closed his eyes, looking down at the city that was restless below him.
Suddenly, he felt a sharp vibration on his wrist.
He raised it and looked at the black band on his wrist, on the screen a name popped up.
'Shuren?'
Slowly, a smile crept onto his face as the smoke curled out past his mouth.
"Well, this is unexpected. I didn't expect you to be calling me. Shuren."
"I think I may have found somebody who can actually beat you up. "
The man sat up instantly; his smile vanished, replaced with a sharp, cool look.
"Care to repeat that again?"
She did not respond instead she exhaled a plume of smoke that twisted like a serpent,
"Oh, so you're joking? No one in this hellhole of a city has a chance. Don't f**k with me."
"You'll figure out soon enough."
The call was terminated suddenly, with nothing left except for static on his wristband.
"Who could she possibly be talking about?"
Arjen Jurrien dragged his hands down his face and let out a frustrated breath.
"This is crazy. "
Without any further delay, he stood up from the lamppost-like table, stuffed his hands into his pockets.
He walked the empty streets, his mind still trying to process everything that had occurred so fast and mostly about the person who he transmigrated into.
From what he'd gathered so far, this body's previous owner wasn't just some harmless street dweller. He was a force to be reckoned with and unpredictable, a man who thrived on blood and violence.
"If I want to somehow survive… I have to become that. I have to become him."
He continued walking, the certainty in his words began to waver, his eyes flitted across the unfamiliar streets, the twisting alleys.
He had no clue where the "other side of town" even was.
'Damn… I don't even know this place. How the hell am I supposed to get across town?'
He slowed his pace for a bit, scanning the crowd.
This was a poor district from the looks of it but not that much as well, indeed there were some poor people who looked like they messed up their futures by not going to school or listening to their parents but by their expressions it didn't seem that way.
It was as if they were fine with the poverty.
This made Arjen slightly confused on why would this be a thing for the residents of this place.
'This world is more messed up than I thought.'
He kept moving, his eyes darting around. As he wondered, he saw something infront of him. It looked like some random people doing something fun as one might put it. Arjen did not want anything to do with that was conspiring but there was a slight curiosity in him that forced him to go check it out.
Fun stuff is what he used to like.
So he went but as he kept going closer, he felt a tightness in his chest it was as if every instinct told him to turn back, but that would kill the way he is. So he forced himself to go further.
Walking steadily and sticking to the edges he saw something horrifying, a man began to convulse. His skin rippled and in mere seconds, fur erupted all over his body, and his face contorted until it morphed into that of a tiger, though his clothes remained, stretched over the monstrous form.
The creature's eyes blazed with hunger and fury.
"GIVE ME THE DRUGS!" he bellowed, his voice a guttural growl that still held a hint of humanity.
Arjen Jurrien froze.
'What the hell was that? A regular guy just… transformed into a tiger?'
His breath hitching in his throat, his eyes struggled to process the scene before him of a man's body contorting, skin ripping and reshaping into striped fur, his face morphing into the fierce visage of a tiger.
The man's roar echoed through the narrow alley, sending cigarette butts and glass bottles skittering across the pavement.
'What should I do? Run? Stay? Act like I didn't see anything?'
The tiger-man snarled, shoving a bystander against the wall.
"The drugs! Hand over the drugs!" Foam dripped from his jaw, his voice a guttural growl, yet still human enough to grasp.
Arjen gritted his teeth, forcing himself to meet the beast's gaze without blinking. Inside, he felt utterly shaken.
'What on earth is this place? People turning into animals and everyone else just acts like it's perfectly normal?'
He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart.
The tiger-man pinned someoneagainst the wall.
"The drugs! I need them! You think I can survive without them in this city?!"
His voice was raw with desperation, his animalistic form twitching as if it were tearing him apart from within.
Arjen's ducked behind a wall, pressing his ear closer.
'Drugs? What kind of drugs could turn someone into… that? And what did he mean by living peacefully?'
The man slammed his fist into the wall, leaving deep claw marks in the stone. His breathing was heavy, punctuated by growls.
"Without it, I'll lose everything! You think I wanted to be like this?! Just give me the damn pills!.
Arjen remained hidden. He pressed his back firmly against the wall, the smoky haze from the cigarette stinging his eyes as he strained to catch every word.
One of the sellers, a tall guy with greasy hair leaned in closer to the tiger-man.
"The pill did him dirty and also desperate. He'll probably need another dose."
The tiger-man's face contorted, a bizarre mix of feline and human features.
"Then give it to me! I can't hold this form for long please I beg you!"
A second seller, shorter, with a scar slicing across his mouth spat on the ground.
"Tch...production's been slowing down… ever since that incident with, you know…"
The first seller with bloodshot gray eyes, gave him a sharp glare.
"Yeah, I know."
The scarred man jerked his thumb at the tiger-man, who was now shaking uncontrollably.
"So what should we do with him? You know that we can't keep him alive since he overdosed way too much."
The tall one smirked, his teeth glinting in the dim alley light.
"Simple. We make money out of him."
For a brief moment, confusion flickered in the tiger-man's eyes.
"Wait… what do you mean by that?"
A gunshot could be heard, blood splattered against the wall. The tiger-man's body crumpled to the ground, twitching once before going still.
Smoke curled from the barrel of the tall seller's pistol as he casually tucked it back into his coat.
Arjen stood still but for some reason he wasn't afraid anymore, at least not the body he stole just him inside.
The scarred seller chuckled, nudging the lifeless body with his shoe.
"Guess one less customer means we have to squeeze the rest harder."