The patrolman was lucky. Lucky he caught a thief in the act, and that it was a weak child that couldn't run far. This might net me a promotion after so long. He thought. During his career, the patrolman has caught exactly 7 thieves, stopped 3 public brawls, and disarmed more than 15 would-be criminals. He figured this achievement could push his career over the edge and into a promotion, something more comfortable. Maybe out of the grungy, smog-covered gravel district, where its almost primarily industrial zones and workshops, grinding stone into powder for use in making cement. Carving stone into sculptures or into bricks and cinderblocks. The Gravel district wasnt a single place, but a collective term for the many sprawling industrial-slums scattered throughout the Great Stone Union, the sole country in the known world. And yet, despite the vastness of the GSU, this one small child was unfortunate enough to run into a particularly cruel patrolman stationed in this specific place and time. Fate was merciless and unrelenting, much like the guard that chased the small girl until she couldn't run any further. He drew the Steamgun at his waist, a weapon using high-pressure steam to launch a small iron bullet with high velocity. He pulled the heavy trigger, and with a PSSH, the bullet ripped through her heart effortlessly. The impact made the small girl convulse and coughed out the air in her lungs. PSSH PSSH, twice more the steam gun hissed, two bullets piercing her lungs, as the girl lay on the ground, dying with blood pooling around her body. The patrolman, satisfied with a smug look, holstered the steam gun and turned. Cleaning up these streets sure is easy work, when its just some slum brats stealing bread. the patrolman thought to himself, leaving the cramped alleys and rejoining the main thoroughfare. Soon the girl's life would flicker out, and the world would keep turning, fate unceasing. The fingers of the girl twitched, the dirty bread just out of reach.
. . . "Im", alive? I should be dead. One moment i was reading light novels in my house, then the next, nothing... Wait, why am i aware i died? Maybe i'm only in a coma? no, a man shot me. Wait, i was shot? My eyes were dark and out of focus, yet during my swirling thoughts memories I didn't recognize started pooling together in my head. No, I did recognize them. They were memories of my life. My current life. No, that isn't quite right. They were memories of this life, 13 year old Iris' life, and My life. Then there were the memories of the other life, of Licht's life, also My life, the life of a 23 year old man that worked as a freelancer in another world. I'm distinguishing between "this" life and "that" life because the current world I'm in is Iris' world. All that said, I remember being shot dead. I did my best to open my eyes and focus my vision. My senses slowly started returning. I could smell stone in the air and taste it. I could see many brick walls around me extending far up, while the sky looked to be a grey, yellowish smog. I couldn't see higher than the smog, which was caused by all of the stone dust being scattered into the air. That seems incredibly unhealthy, shouldn't the people here have major health concerns? As I thought that, the memories almost surfaced up to answer my question. Workers and citizens of the stone district all wore masks to filter out the dust. The more well-off someone was, the better the mask. Most workers would have a proper full-face filter mask while some would just have a half-mask, maybe goggles. The citizens either have full masks, half masks, or simple cloth masks at worst. And the bottom dwellers couldnt even get a cloth mask. Right, enough of that, why am I alive? I sat up slowly, breathing heavily, and looked down at myself. These rags... Now that I'm aware, it would be great to get proper clothing, but... As i thought that, i touched the holes in the rags that had to serve as clothes, which were little more than a converted burlap sack. Or two. The holes were certainly there, and they were stained dark red. The ground around me was sticky with lukewarm blood. But there were no wounds on my body. Why? Despite this terrible situation, it was like fate was playing some sort of cruel prank on the both of us. We died, but were resurrected in the same body, with our souls smashed together? Isn't this too absurd, god? There isn't even two of us in here, just one warped persona. I think. More importantly... I had to do something about my situation. Can't just sit around all day in a pool of my own blood, questioning god's sanity. I stood up and picked the bread up off the ground. That patrolman is long gone. What do I do next? I have little to no knowledge. I don't even know who my parents were. I don't have any special powers or gifts. I don't even know all the rules of this world. But i do have my skills from the other world. I bitterly took a bite out of my bread while dipping into a darker alley, leaving my would-be gravesite. Anger was starting to well up in my heart. This was bullshit, nonsense, absurd. A cruel fucking joke if I've ever heard one. If god or fate or karma was going to put me in this completely unsurvivable situation, then i would struggle with everything I had in this small, malnourished, dust-poisoned body of a girl. Even if i had to sacrifice a limb to oppose this cruel intervention.
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