One day, I went to Old Man Kumi's alley. The tent was gone.

  The police said he died of illness.

  I couldn't believe it. He wasn't sick. And would the police clean it up so fast? These corrupt cops? Impossible.

  "Eh, death by illness? But the scene—" A young cop starts to say something, but one of the corrupt cops everyone knows around here cuts him off. "Shut up."

  It was too suspicious. Robbery-murders and disappearances are increasing in the Dark District.

  Old Man Kumi wasn't a bad person. He used to steal, he said, but he retired. Here, that's no big deal. He didn't look like the type to have enemies.

  Maybe a thrill killer targeting the homeless?

  But why did the police move so fast? Is the killer important? Or their family?

  I don't know.

  I have no dreams or hopes. Nothing I really want to do. Nothing I have to do.

  Old Man Kumi was my only friend and teacher. He was the only person who cared about me.

  Of course I care about him too. That's obvious.

  I don't know other people well. I never wanted to get involved with them.

  Now that Kumi's gone, there's no reason to beg here anymore. I could go anywhere. It doesn't matter. Can I survive somewhere else? Maybe not. But still.

  But first... I should find out what happened to him.

  It just makes sense.

  Though I don't know how to start.

  I look inside myself. Into the darkness.

  The two "me's" appear clearly.

  The fifteen-year-old me. Wearing a school uniform. He watches quietly in the dark. Expressionless. He doesn't seem to care about the old man's death. Or my future.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  I just felt like he muttered, "Take the knife."

  What knife? Is he telling me to do something?

  The thirty-year-old me. A man in a suit. Slicked-back hair, glasses, beard. Smoking a cigarette. Cold eyes. He looks down on everything. But for some reason, he looks amused.

  Our eyes meet. For the first time!

  He smiled and vanished into the darkness. A pure, child-like smile. He looked like a bad guy, but maybe not.

  Just before disappearing, I felt like he said, "Find the culprit."

  I look at the invisible arm at the edge of my vision. It starts waving at me.

  My face twitches. I'm startled. I almost got swallowed by fear. The arm waving around is abnormal, disgusting.

  But I keep looking at it.

  Biting my lip, I try to move it.

  The arm moves exactly as I want. It cooperates.

  "This arm is my weapon. R-really. I'm so scared I have goosebumps, but..."

  Maybe if we train together... push-ups, deadlifts? Pull-ups and shadow boxing might be good too.

  Right now, my only weapons are this invisible hand and the healthy body I got from training.

  ***

  The Dark District: No Hope. Poker Street.

  I sweat doing shadow boxing in the back alley. It's just imitation, but I've gotten pretty good.

  I wipe my body with a wet towel. Since The Fog came out, I go to a safe place.

  The harmful Fog rarely appears outside the city. Old Man Kumi taught me to avoid it.

  I help a shop carry luggage for 20 minutes to get boiled eggs and broccoli. I don't work longer than that. If they think I'm free labor, they'll use me forever.

  I eat my eggs and think.

  How do I find the culprit?

  I decided to check the scene.

  Everything was gone. Kumi's tent, his stuff. It was as if he never existed.

  Who took the tent? The killer? The police?

  I hesitated to ask the police. They treat homeless people like trash.

  I search the alley. Is anything left?

  I found a drainpipe with scratches. Paint peeling. As if slashed by a knife.

  There was a stain that looked like blood. Kumi's? Or something else?

  It bothered me.