Ningyi surfaced through a haze, the world ink-black and her fingers swallowed by night; the air stank like a clogged sewer, heavy as stagnant water.

“Where... is this...?” Panic pricked first. Dizzy and weightless, she braced a damp wall, groped through velvet-dark, and pushed herself upright.

A familiar chill clicked in her skull, a flat electronic voice falling like rain on stone. “Little One, this is Nana Toki’s inner realm, the deepest fold of her mind. Your task is to find a key artifact here and wake her. If you fail, the Nana in reality will be locked into a lifetime of dullness.”

Fear tightened, then doubt pooled like mist. “But... how am I supposed to do that?” She was blind in every sense, lost in shadow, and the artifact that could restore her host’s memory felt like a name without a face.

How do you move when you can’t even see the thread of the plot?

A soft laugh, cold as glass. “No need to worry, Little One. The final artifact that can wake Nana will show itself as you explore her mind’s world. For now, just spend time with the Nana who lives here. Let the river lead you.”

Silence thickened, heavy as rain-laden clouds. Getting along with a former host... that sounded like a weight you carry up a mountain.

“In short, I’ll stream the city background data for your current location. The next steps are yours to drive, Little One.”

Resolve flared like a lamp in fog. “Got it, Master! I’ll finish the mission!” Ningyi answered, a spark in the dark.

The next heartbeat chimed like porcelain. “Ding! Prologue quest triggered: Encounter and Farewell.”

“Quest description: Leave the far end of the slum alley.”

“Slum alley?” The word scraped. A quiet wrongness had been coiling since she woke; now it had a shape, like rust beneath paint.

It wasn’t that slums were strange; it was that Nana Toki had called herself a modern web author from a high-tech world, a place of bright screens and clean lines. Slums spoke of hunger and long rain, not keyboards and neon. Why this mismatch?

Was there a deeper current here? Or had her host never told her true work, like a moon kept behind clouds?

The System moved through pitch, following the faint tug toward the mouth of the alley. The quest’s hint was thin as thread; to learn more, she’d have to get out and watch the street herself.

After ten-odd minutes through that narrow shadow like a gullet, Ningyi finally edged out of the black.

The place itself felt wrong. Crude buildings leaned like tired men, their shabby bulk swallowing sky-light. The slum’s streets ran dark and narrow, and the cracked stone slabs, broken and stitched together, wore dirty prints like bruises. It had rained recently; in the fissures, puddles lay cloudy as old tea.

The air was all pressure, like a lid pressing down. Even the System-born part of Ningyi felt a tightness, a pebble in the shoe of her heart.

“If Nana really lived in a place like this... then her mind being tough to the point of cruelty isn’t impossible,” she muttered, bitterness flicking like a match.

A small figure pushed a wooden cart past, the wheels squeaking like mice. She looked eleven, maybe twelve; her face, still soft with youth, held both timid shadow and stubborn flame.

Here, even little girls had to earn their bread under a cold sky. Hiding in a corner where sight slid past like rain on slate, Ningyi watched the girl and thought.

A prickle spread. Familiarity rose like a half-remembered melody. She’d seen this girl’s outline somewhere, but the memory stayed just out of reach, like a kite tugging above clouds.

“Handmade candy! Handmade candy! Sweet and fresh, come buy!” The child’s call rang sharp in the quiet street, a bright bell in fog.

Eyes turned. Hunger stared back, feverish, like wolves circling a sheep. Ningyi thought if not for the guards who wandered through these streets like thin fences, the crowd would have rushed the cart already.

Money meant food here, and money was scarce as stars at noon. Who had spare coin for candy to quiet a craving?

In the System’s impression, slums had little to do with health or uprightness; they were damp rooms and unclean alleys, places where hearts twisted like wind-warped trees. Not all, but nine in ten, bent by weather no child should brave.

“Ya!” A shout snapped, sharp as a snapped twig. Whether someone did it on purpose or the cart was just flimsy, a few boys in sackcloth darted by the girl’s cart as she pushed up a steep patch.

Laughter pushed, bodies jostled like waves. The tiny wooden cart, small as a sparrow, couldn’t hold against the shove; it slammed over, and a shower of candy scattered, bright bits clattering like hail on stone. The watching kids exploded, a switch flipped; they swarmed like bees, grabbing and sprinting.

Maybe it was her first time facing this kind of storm; shock rooted her like a young tree. Ten seconds passed, then more; she finally ran in to stop them, but it was like throwing a net into a flood. One small, thin girl couldn’t stand against boys older by years—and among them, grown shadows moved as well.

“What are you doing!” Her voice cracked like brittle wood.

“That’s my candy! How can you just take it!” Desperation fought like a bird against a cage. “Give it back!”

She snagged a sleeve, pleading like rain knocking on a shut door. The boy didn’t even glance at her; he grabbed at the ground with both hands, feral, eyes fixed on sugar like meat. In their minds, anything that hit the ground belonged to the street, a rule carved like scars.

That was the slum’s law, a rule everyone carried like a tattoo under skin.

Noise rose and broke, chaos cresting like a storm tide. Watching from the side, Ningyi felt her worldview crack like old porcelain. They were brawling over a handful of candy, and some didn’t even bother with the ground—they targeted those who’d already grabbed theirs, ripping and wrestling until the street churned.

The fallen cart got kicked and dragged, a toy in a dog pack. In a breath, that fine little cart shattered, limbs of wood splintering under boots, scattered like bones.

“So cruel...” The whisper came heavy.

“Why would people do this? It’s too much.” Shoved out of the stampede, the girl knelt by broken planks, tears glassing her eyes like raindrops too heavy to fall.

She didn’t belong here; her light rubbed raw against this grit, and this ending felt like snow on a spring flower.

Ningyi couldn’t stomach watching the tide run higher. She hurried to find the patrolling guards, hope flaring like a paper lantern. But by the time the guard arrived, the candy had been swept clean by eager hands, hunger leaving only wet footprints.

This was a slum, and it was cheap candy. The guard waved and scolded, a gesture thin as smoke; Ningyi knew they wouldn’t dig past the first layer of mud.

“Here. This is for you.” After shooing off the last scavengers, Ningyi stepped to the girl and placed a few sweets in her palm, pieces she’d picked up herself. “They’re yours.”

“Eh?” Surprise fluttered like a sparrow in her eyes. She hadn’t expected anyone to return candy, not here. “I... can I really have all of these back?”

“What are you saying? They were yours to begin with.” The System pressed the sugar into those small fingers, a wry smile tugging like a thread. “First time selling here? Don’t come back to this street. They’ll do it again.”

“Thank you for caring... but if I don’t sell here, I can’t survive.” Her voice dimmed like dusk. Hugging the broken planks, she lowered her head. “It’s hard to say, but I really need money. So even if this keeps happening, I won’t stop selling.”

Ningyi’s breath hitched, frustration moving like a trapped wind. “...You’re stubborn, little one.”

“By the way, what’s your name? Thank you for today. Next time, let me help you in return.” Her smile tried to steady, a thin blade against cold.

“Sure. I’m Ningyi. And you?” The System figured she’d be here awhile; a friend was a warm ember in a wet night.

The answer fell like a stone into still water, ripples wide and sudden. “Oh! Ningyi is such a pretty name. I’m Nana. Nice to meet you!”