As I looked at the large polished wooden chest, filed to the brim with jerky, leather, and bones, I couldn't help but smile; I've completed a part of my plan, after what felt like years of hard work, too, which only intensified the feeling of satisfaction bubbling up within me. Now, all I needed was some water, a comfortable table, and a chair, and I could finally have a somewhat decent first meal.

  'Life isn't so bad, you know, at least not right now. With food, and a somewhat comfortable abode, all of the stress fades away.'

  Walking over to a polished oak wood table in the absolute center of the room, I took up the wooden cup on it, went over to the pan of myriad river water, and filled it up before transforming it into clean, fresh, and pure drinking water, placed it on the table, grabbed some jerky, and devoured it.

  "Burpp..man, that was good!"

  Patting my belly gently, I took out the diary I got from Asmondo, and continued where I left off.

  "Day: 14:

  With the aid of N.O 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6, I was able to successfully gather more intel on the card, its origins, and how it came into the hands of the gang leader, Prpove. Supposedly, it was the gift of a second floor resident, who, under the guidance of a force called "Fate," gifted it to him, because he had great potential, and because either he, or someone from his gang would transform the entire Woodcity one day. As for who leaked the information, that remains unclear."

  "Day: 15:

  My build, strength, and intellect stand out too much; adopting a more low-key and brutish personality might help with blending in. Also, I've successfully gathered intel on the gang's route to the myriad river, apparently they smuggle too, but it's nothing of value, merely bits and bobs from above, such as metal trinkets, and plastic containers."

  "Day: 16:

  Me, N.O 1, 5, and 3 formed a smuggling party and secretly used the gang-exclusive route, but, we ran into something weird, and only I managed to escape; I've never seen anything like it, one moment we were digging through hills of metal, and the next, the heads of my comrades simply separated, spewing golden blood on the ground, then, they transformed into strings of shredded metal."

  "Day: 17:

  For the first time in 36 years, I had a nightmare about what happened yesterday, and I haven't been able to sleep since. So, I decided to tell number 4, 2, and 6 about it. But, when I gathered them all; number 1, 5, and 3 showed up too, looking very much alive and well."

  "Day: 18:

  I knew it was all a dream; what transpired was simply too absurd, and unreal; magic existed, this was a known fact, and cards were the greatest examples of magic. Even though they grant supreme abilities depending on the identity, they still had limits, and took time to nurture. What happened in that dream had no logic to it, and I couldn't even begin to fully explain it to anyone."

  "Day: 19:

  Why would I, someone who's never had an interest in keeping books, especially one storing sensitive information, keep a diary? Furthermore, where did I get it? Who gave it to me? Such an expensive thing wouldn't slip off my brain so easily!"

  "Day: 20:

  Trust not what appears good, bad, or in between; trust nothing at all."

  "Day: 21:

  The log from day 20 remains elusive to me; what does it mean? I can't understand the language used, and when I do try, my head hurts. What does this mean? These days, reality feels unreal. Have I gone mad? My mind keeps drifting back to that fateful day when it began, did I truly hallucinate it all, or was it real? I plan to find N.O 1, 3, and 5 with N.O 2 and 6 and ask them myself, that way, I'll find out the truth."

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  I blinked, flipped the wooden page, only to be met with nothing; the rest of the pages were simply gone, as if something had ripped them out.

  What the heck did I stumble into? Wasn't this supposed to be a regular diary, how did it end up becoming so creepy? I felt a sudden chill, the Asmondo I met mere hours before I killed him seemed nothing like this; he didn't seem like the type to hallucinate, have nightmares, or develop mental instabilities at all. The Asmondo from day 1-16 feel like two completely different people; it's almost as if they'd been swapped out.

  But, such a thing shouldn't be possible under the watch of his teammates, unless they were in on it too.

  But why?

  Every log was a puzzle, and I found myself thinking about each one, especially the ones after day 16, things changed drastically after that day. This world, it seemed, had profoundly deep waters, and magic, too; people coming from the dead, and whatever took place on day 16, I'm not too sure of that qualified as magic.

  That deserved to be in a league of its own; of course, I could be wrong, and maybe magic could indeed do that.

  'Again, this entire situation is too strange; its best not to make any conclusions, or delve deeper into it.'

  Although I was curious about the background and origins of the body my soul now inhabited, I was by no means suicidal; this entire situation reeks of deep, unfathomable waters, and I wasn't particularly apt at swimming, nor did I like water overall.

  But, when I tried to turn the book into a wooden plank, my skill simply slid off it; the power attempted to take hold, but it slid off, quite literally. The same thing happened when I tried to inspect it, too; the power attempting to grab its information slid off.

  It was at this moment that a sudden realization came to me; the moment I picked up the diary, I fell into the deep, unfathomable waters, because I couldn't swim, and sank very, very deep.

  Just why? Why did I have to suddenly get curious, and pick up that ratskin pouch? I should've been more paranoid, more suspicious, and less eager for information! Perhaps if I had tried to inspect it before I touched it and this happened, I wouldn't have dared to pick it up and would've fled a hundred miles, too, just to be safe. Wait, actually, that might've made me even more curious.

  Could it be that I'm stupid?

  'No, it's not me; some force is acting on me, there has to be!'

  'Really? Or could it be that you're really that stupid? To the point where you'd pick up an unknown book your power can't penetrate?'

  Well....that's true; I really would've picked up, regardless.

  'I really might be stupid; no force is acting upon me, unless that force is called stupidity.'

  I got up, carefully picked up the book, went outside, and flung it as far as I could, watching it vanish into the distant dark. The moment it left my sight, I felt as though a heavy weight was lifted from my entire being, but it didn't last long; when I returned to the house, the only thing I felt was dread and the crushing weight of the unknown. On the table was the diary I threw away mere moments ago, as if I never even left the house to do the deed.

  'How?'

  Was this really a diary, or something else disguised as one?

  I didn't know, and I don't want to know; even though a part of me was insanely curious, that part was the stupid part that took it up in the first place, and I wasn't going to let him out again. If I couldn't get rid of the book by force, I'll simply leave it; I wanted to see how it'll follow me then, or if it will even try to do so at all. But, even so, my mind still continued to pour over the logs, particularly the one from day 20.

  It felt like a hidden message to me, as I could understand it, while the very person who supposedly wrote it could not; to me, it didn't seem like any hidden language at all, merely standard English. But, what if that isn't the case for everyone else; I always found it odd that despite being in another world, people were speaking perfect English. Now, it seems that wasn't the case; the people of this world spoke a different language, but, some force was translating it into English for me.

  But the question still remains, who wrote it? And, what was the language used to write?

  'I'm getting stupid again; do not get curious, don't!'

  But, isn't it a bit too late for that? This book has clearly bound itself to me via some unknown means, and won't be leaving anytime soon from the looks of it.

  It was creepy, undeniably so, but there was little I could do about it; my power didn't work on it directly, so there was no use to try indirect methods, at least not yet.

  Now, a second main task was added to my list: find the missing pages of the diary, investigate how it came into Asmondo's hands, his supposedly dead teammates, and how it all tied back to the previous soul of this body.

  'Sigh, what a headache; I really didn't sign up for any of this, life is already hard as is, even with such a seemingly broken cheat. Now that I've become a fish in deep waters, won't the difficulty spike exponentially?'

  'Sigh. It is what it is, no other choice but to deal with it now.'

  Although I had already planned to join the Movematch gang, I really had no other option now; I felt like the key to getting rid of this book lay in there somewhere, specifically on one of the dead teammates; if I could find and gather the necessary intel, and the missing pages, I'd have a much clearer picture of the entire situation.

  But, how exactly does one become a member of Movematch? Do they recruit people?

  Wait, why am I thinking about such a stupid thing? Aren't I already a part of the gang? I just need to go back to the market, gather intel, and see how other members of the gang operated, and mimic them. Then, slowly worked my way up the ranks, all while investigating my so-called teammates; they were mentioned by only their code names in the diary, but they surely went by other names while they operated within the gang.

  But, that couldn't help them hide from me too much, unless they could block my skills like this accursed thing that calls itself a diary. If I ran into anyone like that, there's only one thing I would do: run.

  Sigh.

  'So many things to do, and this is just my first day in this world; I can already feel the gray hairs sprouting on my head, before long, I'll be looking 60 at the age of 20.'

  But, I'll deal with all of this tomorrow; my soul itself felt tired, likely an effect of the debuff on my status panel, which still showed no signs of going away anytime soon. So, I sighed rather heavily, got up from around the table and went over to my kicked off my shoes, cleaned them, did the same for my robe, and then lay on the bed, falling asleep the instant I got comfortable enough.