The statement alone made Toon's cool demeanor falter, his smirk faded into disbelief.

  "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."

  Toon Horst 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.

  Toon Horst stood there for a moment, processing her words. Eight out of a million…his fists tightened, the initial shock morphing into something deeper but what may it be frustration, curiosity or a flicker of desire even he wanted to know for sure. Then he took off, following Shuren into the stunning streets of Kurayamiya.

  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. Toon found himself staring at his bowl, then he looked at the chopsticks his fingers twitched, fumbling 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." Toon muttered a curse under his breath and attempted to find something inside of Assad's memories, anything would be helpful.

  But there was no luck as Toon 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, Toon 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. Not a question, an accusation.

  Toon 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."

  But then, without missing a beat, 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. Toon blinked, caught between pride and hunger.

  The noodle hung between them for what felt like an eternity before Toon finally relented, leaning in and slurping it down in one clumsy bite. Shuren smirked slightly, clearly pleased with her small triumph, then shifted her focus back to her own 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."

  Toon Horst 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 you go and meet me at the other side of town and don't be late." she said, her tone brisk and impatient.

  Assad 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.

  Toon sat there, frozen, staring at the empty spot she had left behind.

  "What the…" he muttered, his heart racing.

  He hadn't blinked more than once, and yet she had slipped from his view entirely, as if she had never existed.

  The ramen in front of him steamed, untouched, suddenly feeling less like a meal and more like a trap shock coursed through him he had witnessed plenty of fights, seen his share of deaths, and encountered all sorts of tricks in the streets, but nothing like that.

  The night draped itself heavily over Kurayamiya, with neon signs flickering like fireflies on their last legs.

  On a slanted rooftop, a man reclined with his arms behind his head, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips, his eyes were half-closed, taking in the restless city that pulsed below.

  To him, the chaos was just background noise, a lullaby for those who thrived in darkness. Suddenly, a sharp vibration buzzed against his wrist.

  He lifted his arm, glancing at the black band wrapped around it. The screen glowed with a single name.

  Shuren?

  A smirk crept onto his face, smoke curling past his lips.

  "Well, this is a surprise. Didn't expect you to be the one calling, Shuren." The screen flickered, and her image appeared, distorted by static.

  She skipped the pleasantries, raising her hand and giving him a lazy middle finger with a grin.

  "I might've found someone who can actually beat you in a fight," she said flatly, her voice thick with smoke.

  The man straightened up, the cigarette slipping from his lips and hiis smirk vanished, replaced by a sharper, colder expression.

  "...Care to repeat again?"Shuren leaned back against a wall on her side, exhaling a plume of smoke that twisted like a serpent.

  She didn't respond, just kept staring at him with that same smug look.

  His jaw tightened. "You're joking. No one in this godforsaken city stands a chance. Don't mess with me."

  Her smirk widened, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Guess you'll find out soon enough."

  The call ended abruptly with a sharp click, leaving only static buzzing on his band and the man on the rooftop clenched his fist until his knuckles cracked, the calm demeanor from earlier replaced by a brewing storm in his eyes.

  "Who could she be talking about…?"

  Toon Horst dragged a hand down his face and let out a sharp breath.

  'This is insane…'

  He pushed himself up from the table, shoving his hands into his pockets as he stepped out into the restless streets of Kurayamiya.

  Neon signs flickered above him, casting distorted glows on the cracked pavement,the city felt alive in a way that was almost threatening, eyes lurking in the shadows, whispers carried by the night breeze.

  His mind was a whirlwind.

  'The only way to survive is to act like Assad.'

  That memory had resurfaced earlier, faint yet piercing, like a warning etched into his mind. From what he'd gathered, 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.

  Toon clenched his fists. "If I want to make it here… I have to become that. I have to become him."

  But as he walked, the certainty in his words began to waver. His eyes flitted across the unfamiliar streets, the twisting alleys, the endless glow of signs written in a language that felt foreign to him. He had no clue where the "other side of town" even was.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  'Damn… I don't even know this place. How the hell am I supposed to get across town?'

  He slowed his pace, scanning the crowd. Every person seemed sharper, tougher, more dangerous than the last and here he was a stranger in someone else's skin, stumbling through a city that could sense weakness like blood in the water.

  His jaw tightened.

  ‘No. I can't let them see it.’

  With that thought, he buried his fear deep down and kept moving, each step feeling heavier than the last. He kept moving, his eyes darting around, his heart feeling heavy in his chest. Memories flashed through his mind, fragments he was trying to piece together into something coherent but it was all just shadows eventually, he found himself in a narrow alleyway.

  The stench of smoke and sweat hit him like a wall.

  Toon Horst felt a tightness in his chest. Every instinct told him to turn back, but he forced himself to keep his expression neutral, unreadable and dangerous men could sense fear. If he wanted to survive, he had to don Toon's mask. He walked steadily, sticking to the edges, when suddenly, a man in the crowd began to convulse. His skin rippled, and he could hear bones cracking beneath the surface.

  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.

  Toon Horst froze, ice coursing through his veins. His mind raced. What the hell was happening? A regular guy just… transformed into a tiger? What kind of madness was this?

  The crowd didn't even seem surprised. They merely stepped back, as if this was an everyday occurrence. But for Assad, this was the first taste of something far beyond his comprehension.

  Assad stood frozen in place, 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?'

  Thoughts crashed together in Assad's mind, each option feeling worse than the last. If he bolted, he'd seem weak.

  If he lingered, he might get pulled into something he couldn't comprehend and if he pretended it was nothing, would they suspect him?

  His heart raced, but his expression remained impassive, just as a memory whispered in his mind.

  'Assad never flinches.'

  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.

  Assad 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…'

  Assad took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart as he casually slipped his hands into his pockets. He relaxed his shoulders, mimicking the loose swagger of the gangsters from his memories. If it meant staying alive, he was ready to embrace that persona.

  "Yo," he said with a slight nod to a couple of guys smoking by the entrance,t hey gave him a lazy glance before returning to their cigarettes.

  He moved further into the alley, matching the vibe of the place, slow steps, indifferent expressions as if he'd walked this path a hundred times. The laughter, the curses, the sound of fists hitting flesh all swirled around him, creating a chaotic backdrop he felt he was meant to be part of But then, the roar hit him again.

  The tiger-man had someone pinned against the wall, his fur standing on end, claws scraping against the brick. "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. Toon's stomach twisted, but he ducked behind a wall, pressing his ear closer. His instincts screamed for him to flee, yet his curiosity held him captive.

  'Drugs? What kind of drugs could turn someone into… that? And what did he mean by living peacefully?'

  The tiger-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!. Toon remained hidden in the shadows, his mind racing.

  'Pills? Drugs? Is that what keeps these… creatures… in check? And if that's the case… how many of them are out there, lurking in the city like this?'

  Toon 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 and a flashy gold chain, leaned in closer to the tiger-man. "The pill knocked him out quickly. You'll probably need another hit."

  The tiger-man's face contorted, a bizarre mix of feline and human features.

  "Then give it to me! I can't-I can't hold this form without it!" His claws dug into his own arms, tearing shallow gashes into his furred skin.

  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 shot him a sharp glare. "Yeah, I know."

  The scarred man jerked his thumb at the tiger-man, who was now shaking uncontrollably. "So what's our next move with them? 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. His breathing slowed, as if he dared to hope. "Wait… what do you mean by that?"

  Then the crack of a gunshot shattered the air. Blood splattered against the wall, dark and steaming in the night. 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. Assad froze, his heart pounding in his chest.

  He had seen death before but this felt different the scarred seller chuckled, nudging the lifeless body with his boot.

  "Guess one less customer means we have to squeeze the rest harder."

  The tall one exhaled, as if nothing had happened.

  "Yeah. Supply's low and the demand rate are going high which does result in that good profit. in our pockets. Now bag him up before someone spots us."

  Assad remained hidden in the shadows, fists clenched, his mind racing.

  'What the hell did I just walk into? And what was that "incident"…?'

  "That's enough, it's brief, but Mrs. Shuren… might have the rest of the story." Assad muttered quietly, stepping away from the wall.

  He turned, making sure to tread lightly.

  His foot landed on a shard of glass, the sound slicing through the murmur of voices in the alley. The sellers froze.

  "…Did you all hear that?" the scarred one asked, squinting suspiciously.

  The tall man lifted his gun again, his face a mask of unreadable tension. "Over there. Go check it out."

  Assad's heart raced. Every fiber of his being screamed for him to flee, to disappear into the night. But when he tried to move, nothing happened.

  His legs felt like they were made of stone. His body wouldn't cooperate. Instead, he remained anchored in the shadows, waiting and watching.

  'Why can't I move?'