“Oi, Dr Frankenstein!”

  Old Man Sid’s gruff voice cut through the pre-dawn clamour of the RIFT’s staging area, his dark green uniform still unwashed from last weekend's exploit. A pickaxe clanked against his buckle as he tossed Jin the work order.

  “I’ve heard.”

  “About?” Jin caught the paper, his eyes skimming the list.

  Old Man Sid raised an eyebrow. “You went and got tangled in White Raven’s business.”

  Jin let out a groan as he tucked the order into his pocket. “I didn’t know it was their business. I did what I was supposed to do. As a father. As a decent man.”

  “Decent?” Sid snorted, clapping Jin’s shoulder. “You’re either the bravest fool in Neo-Tokyo or the luckiest. Heard you sent two of them Unreg bastards packing without so much as a scratch.”

  “Nah,” Jin smirked. “I just know how these Players think. You ever seen one mid-fight? They’re too busy staring at their Status Screens like it’s a damn menu. Hesitate for a second, and-” He mimed a throat-slit.

  Old Man Sid cracked a grin, shaking his head. “No denying it. But Players don’t forget. Ever. If I know one thing about them, petty’s their middle name. Heard from my downline that the two Unregs are from that new gang in the neighbourhood. Blood Fiend something.”

  “Don’t know. Don’t care,” Jin replied nonchalantly. He then stretched his arm, the morning sun glinting off the rooftop.

  Around them, the RIFT’s mouth rumbled on, spitting out Players in various states – some in disrepair, some wished they were rather be at home, though a few chattered excitedly. The ones who hadn’t entered still loitered near the portal, looking for party members. No one dared to enter alone, even though this was an F-Rank RIFT, the lowest-rated and the weakest one.

  But for unawakened Cleaners like Old Man Sid and Sasaki ‘Dr Frankenstein’ Jin, it was odd for the Security Commission to send them the orders to enter the RIFT when the mission was not yet cleared.

  Old Man Sid’s gaze followed Jin as they looked towards the bunch of new dark green uniform recruits gathering. “Double pay got them all brave today. Even the greenhorns.”

  “Or desperate.” Jin adjusted his gloves. “SeComm sending us in before the all-clear is a bloody joke. One wrong step, and we’re goblin kibble.”

  “We got babysitters this time,” Old Man Sid said as he jerked his head towards a group of people gathered at the other side of the portal. “Fresh off a successful clear, too.”

  It was a ragtag group of six, half of whom looked like they’d rather nap than fight. One picked his teeth with a dagger. Another fiddled with a translucent bottle, its glow pulsing weakly between his fingers. One even tried to flirt with a nearby Player before being pushed away by her party members.

  “Reassuring,” Jin said with a deadpan expression. “Six of them. A hundred of us.”

  “Hey, at least it’s not Ward 6. From D to B-Rank RIFT, then upgraded to A. With so many rookie Players, it's a surprise that many survived.”

  ”All thanks to Ironshield. He’s the real hero.” Jin said, remembering the job he went through the previous week. “Even then, Players can afford to be reckless. We can’t.”

  “Speak for yourself.” Old Sid thumped his pickaxe against the ground. “I’ve survived this long doing the mundane. You? You’re the crazy one.”

  Jin laughed, but his eyes stayed on the RIFT. There was something that made him uneasy about today’s job, but orders were orders.

  “Let’s just get in, get out and get paid,” Jin said as he cracked his knuckles.

  “And if we do run into trouble?”

  “Then you’d better hope I live up to my nickname, old friend. Come, let’s get the others and start working.”

  ***

  Ritchie grinned, plucking a bright green fern with a triumphant joy. "Got it!" He waved the plant at Jin like a trophy. "This one’s in the guidebook! Easy work!”

  “Heh.” Jin didn’t even look up from his gathering bag. "That’s a Mimic-Fern."

  “Mimic-Fern? What’s that-“

  Before Ritchie could even finish his words, a puff of yellow pollen exploded into his face. He blinked away and held his throat, coughing out whatever that went through his mouth and lungs.

  “Fuck. What is-wait!” Ritchie clapped a hand over his mouth, his eyes wide. “My voice! What happened to my voice?!”

  Ritchie’s voice dropped into a gruff baritone – a perfect imitation of Old Man Sid.

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  Jin burst out laughing, tapping the poor rookie’s shoulder a few times. "Congrats, kid. You’re him for the next hour."

  "Aww, hell no!” he said, clawing at his throat. "Make it stop!"

  "Can’t. Recovery items don’t work on us." Jin said before tossing him a canteen. "Drink. Might wash out the pollen. Might. "

  While Ritchie tried to flush his face and throat clean, Jin plucked another fern-looking herb nearby, where the rookie had gathered one earlier.

  “Now, this is the real Glowing Sunset Fern.”

  "B-But how?" Ritchie wheezed – still in Sid’s voice. “It looks the same.”

  "Lesson one," Jin said, pocketing the fern into his bag, "Got to read your guidebook down to every last word.” He then cracked a smirk. "Lesson two? Don’t always trust your guidebook. Always check with me first."

  Ritchie groaned – now in his own voice again, but hoarse. "I hate this place."

  Jin laughed. “Yup. That's what the old man says, too. Welcome, rookie. To the world inside the RIFT.”

  The herb picking went by quickly, with Jin collecting most of it, including Ritchie’s part, as the rookie was cautious to do anything else other than shadowing his mentor. Once that was done, another work awaited.

  Mining.

  A staple of any exploration mission. Especially when Players themselves, despite their enhanced abilities, never bothered to mine. Nor to gather herbs, leaving all those so-called low-tiered jobs to Cleaners. Worse, Players couldn’t even collect the drop loot, except for rewards that were directly credited into their inventory.

  “I mined a gold ore as big as your head! Ward 8’s RIFT, two weeks ago.”

  “Pfft. That’s nothing!” A scrawny Cleaner with a chipped pickaxe leaned against the mine cart. “I found a mythril vein off-map. HQ let me keep two ores. Hundred grand a pop.”

  “Please.” A woman with a bandana over her mouth didn’t even look up from her shovel. “I managed to smuggle out a sheathed sword. Intact. Boss drop, they said.”

  “Phew.” Another Cleaner whistled. “Those Players would’ve killed for it. All I got to show for was some snake skins that I mistook for dragon’s scales. Pretty thing though.”

  Ritchie, who overheard their conversations, stared at Jin. “I-Isn’t that stealing?”

  Jin rolled his shoulders, the fabric of his jumpsuit stretching tight over his body. “Stealing? Who from?”

  With a pickaxe, he then drove it into a crack in the rock, muscles straining just enough to make it look effortless. A light blue ore sparkled from the rock slit. A few more strikes and eventually, he got it loose.

  “Here,” Jin said before picking it up and throwing it to Ritchie, who barely caught it. “No one owns this world. Neither them, me, nor you. Nor the Players. Nor HQ.”

  “W-What would I do with it?” Ritchie asked.

  “Good question.” Jin let out a smile. “For us? Nothing. Can’t use it. Can’t smelt it. Just a shiny rock on your shelves. For Players, it’s a different story, though. And besides…”

  Around them, other Cleaners grunted and swore, chipping away at the rock with clumsy strikes. Some even missed their aim, nearly hitting the other Cleaner. For Jin? One strike. Two. And then three. A watermelon-sized ore tumbled free.

  “Ore as big as your head is normal,” Jin said as he carried it up like a baby. “Here. Have another one. For keepsake.”

  “B-But-“

  Again, Ritchie fumbled the catch. Yet the sparkle reflected in his eyes and dirt-stained face was evident. A slow grin escaped his lips.

  “Ready for lesson three?” Jin stared at the rookie, pickaxe resting on his shoulder. “Whatever happens in RIFT, stays in RIFT. Now, lesson four. Stop gawking get your arse working already!”

  Half a day later, the two filled their cart and made way towards their base. After a short break, Jin and Ritchie resumed their work. This time, it was a less backbreaking work but one that Ritchie struggled with the most.

  “Aww hell. Not again!” Ritchie cursed as the Two-Headed Cicada escaped his grasp.

  The little critter, barely the size of a thumbtack, let out a sharp shrill – its two heads swivelling in opposite directions like a broken clock – before escaping into a hole in a tree.

  Jin watched with some amusement. “Here. Watch and learn.”

  He pulled out a glove and smeared a sticky liquid on it. Once done, he then walked to the tree trunk, covered the tree hole with one hand and gave it a few hard bangs with the other. A few seconds later, the Two-Headed Cicada was in his hands.

  “But wouldn’t it hurt the little fellow?” Ritchie asked. “We need everything intact, especially the wings.”

  Jin smiled but said nothing as he placed his hand that carried the critter inside a translucent bag before rinsing it with water. The cicada freed itself, but now, it was trapped inside the bag.

  Ritchie was gobsmacked.

  “Patience,” Jin said, “and a little preparation will help you. That’s lesson number five. And you know what lesson number six is?”

  “W-What is it, mentor sir?”

  Jin chuckled at Ritchie’s clear attempt to butter him up. And he played along. “Lesson six, time to go home. Those monkeys might be passive, but if you let your guard down, they will steal everything from you.”

  “What monkey?”

  Jin didn’t say anything but pointed up at the tree where its branches were obscured by thick leaves. Behind it, two pairs of red eyes were watching. Quietly. Patiently.

  “When did they come?”

  “They’re always there. Come, let’s pack our-“

  Jin didn’t finish his words. Instead, he told Ritchie to keep quiet as the rookie was about to ask him something further.

  “Can you listen?”

  Ritchie shook his head. “Can’t hear anything.”

  Jin didn’t wait. With a scalpel in his hand, he went forward where he heard the noise. Through thickets of bushes and thick gnarly trees, Jin found what he was looking for. The sight sent Ritchie on his arse, his face blushing red.

  “H-Help… me… please…”

  A young Cleaner was wrapped mid-air in glowing green vines, her jumpsuit riding up into her cleavages as she struggled. Even worse, the perverse vines even went through the sleeves and opening of her attire, feeling out her body before suffocating her even further.

  Jin sighed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Why can’t anyone read the bloody guidebook?” he said as he broke off a branch from the tree, wet it with some alcohol from his metal flask, before setting it on fire. “Here, feel this instead. Now, let her go.”

  Surprisingly, the vines did just that. It freed the girl and immediately went after the flaming branch, coiling around it with enthusiastic yet sickening ‘crack’ before disappearing into the deeper part of the forest.

  Taking this opportunity, Jin pulled the girl up and pushed her towards Ritchie. “Those bastards seek heat. Come, let’s get out of here before it comes back for any of us.”

  The two rushed ahead, leaving Jin behind.

  “Lesson seven,” he mumbled to himself, gripping the scalpel tight. “When the RIFTs get too quiet, something’s wrong.”

  Jin’s gaze flickered upward. The Four-Eyed Monkeys that had been following them vanished. No more stalking crimson eyes. The cicadas’ screeching had died out some time ago, like the forest itself had swallowed its own voice.

  But the bush ahead rumbled. A slow shiver ran through its leaves, like claws curling in the dark searching for a way out. Then it twitched violently – the leaves tore apart, spitting out a small creature, its bloodshot eyes burned through the distance, unblinking. Its maddening gaze met Jin’s, locking itself into a silent stare-down with the man.