Three miles down the sixteen-foot-high barbed electric fences surrounding the Grimway Station, I finally reached the closest point any civilian could get to the Grimgates from the outside.

  Beyond the rows of people, mesh of steel and current, the colossal arch came into view—an immacute construct of polished metal, towering in silence. It was the Grimgate, the interdimensional gateway that linked Skyox City to the Grimmyth.

  The arch stood a full three miles beyond the station's ptforms, a vast structure several hundred yards wide, with twelve shuttle tracks stretching through its frame. From time to time, Gionships slipped into or emerged from its distorted threshold, the space around it shimmering just enough to obscure whatever existed on the other side.

  Grimgate Station itself functioned like any other major Gionship hub in Skyox City—except for the colossal steel arches standing three miles from both its ends.

  *Grumble—*

  My growling stomach awakened me from the mesmerizing sight before me. Ignoring it, I noticed that aside from the barbed electric fences and the occasional patrol of soldiers, there wasn't much visible security.

  From Crayon's memories, I knew that, without traveling at the speed enough to break the sound barrier, no one could break through the shroud of distorted space within the arch. Only a speeding Gionship or a powerful Grimlock moving at superhuman speed could pierce the veil and enter the Grimgate here, emerging on the other side in Grimmyth.

  This was intentional—an engineered safeguard to hinder Gions from Grimmyth leaking into Earth. It also ensured that any wandering Grimmon on the far side of the Grimgate in Grimmyth couldn't simply cross over. The chances of such a breach were extremely low, but not impossible. And when dealing with Grimmyth, caution was always preferable to regret.

  Sniff, sniff… I couldn't stop myself from following the aroma drifting through the morning air as a young woman—barely in her te teens—pulled out a makeshift grill beside her tent and began cooking meat and vegetables to sell. She wasn't the only one; several others around the camp were preparing breakfast, either for themselves or to sell. The prices were shockingly low, yet I still couldn't afford even the cheapest portion.

  With my hunger cwing at my patience, I finally approached the young woman. Without gncing up from the grill, she said, "Food isn't ready yet. If you don't mind waiting, I can take your order."

  I cleared my throat, looking at the petite Asian girl in a wheelchair who was so focused on the sizzling food that she hadn't even looked my way. "Do you need a hand with anything—"

  "Look here, buddy. I'm fttered, but if you're not ordering anything, please make room for paying customers," she cut in, misunderstanding me completely. Heat rushed to my cheeks. Trying to hide my embarrassment, I quickly corrected her. "I'm looking for a job."

  "Not hiring. Please leave," she snapped, irritation sharpening her tone.

  But I wasn't ready to walk away—not yet. "You don't have to pay me," I said steadily. "Just give me a little of the leftovers."

  The petite, handicapped girl finally looked up. She frowned, struggling to make out my face beneath the shadow of my hood. Her gaze then shifted to the makeshift splint on my right pinky, and after that, to my jacket—once decent, now stained with dirt.

  Not wanting her to get the wrong idea, I said, "It's inconvenient for me to show my face right now, but believe me—I'm not a swindler or a thief. I'll work hard. All I'm asking for is a little food afterward. If you're satisfied, you can give me more."

  "I really don't have any work for you," she said, her tone softening just a little.

  "Please… just go. I'm barely scraping by." She gestured subtly with her tongs toward the surrounding slum—loafers with sharp ears were already listening in on our conversation. She had her own troubles to deal with; she couldn't afford to make an exception out of pity, not even this once.

  "Thank you," I said with a bow before stepping aside and taking in the surrounding slum. My pn to pick up odd jobs and lie low here—away from the wannabe paparazzi—for the next few days was already off to a rough start. If I didn't have to hide my face, I might have had better luck.

  Rumble—~!

  My stomach growled loudly enough to shame me into giving up. I finally decided to dip into Crayon's emergency cash, tucked inside the torn sleeve of his old underwear's estic band—a crude but effective hidden pocket.

  Without factoring in the strain from my own transmigration, this body hadn't eaten since yesterday afternoon. It had taken a solid beating, spent an entire night unconscious on cold hard cemetery grounds, and was worn down from hours of walking and daily-life stress. If I didn't put something into it soon, I doubted I'd make it back home.

  I slipped out a G-coin discreetly and walked over to the disabled girl selling questionably sourced barbecue at staggeringly low prices. "One G-coin for a corncob and a potato, right?" I asked to confirm.

  She nodded. After taking the coin, she set down a pte woven from the leafy husks of corn ears and lined it with a torn magazine page. She pced a grilled corncob and a potato on top, then sprinkled a bit of seasoning and added a small swirl of mayonnaise as topping before handing it to me. She pointed toward the skewered meat, asking if I wanted any. I shook my head—I didn't dare try the meat sold here even if she were to give it to me for free.

  Skipping washing my hands, I blew on the steaming cob preparing to lift it for that first, desperate bite—only for my breakfast to vanish from my hand with leaf pte in an instant, repced by a deck of gold-bck cards, a grim cypher elegantly inscribed in radiant gold across the cards' pitch bck back.

  It was my Grim Deck. I somehow just knew. A moment ter, the deck dissolved into gold-bck light and sank into my chest, and my pupils glowed with the shape of my Grim Cypher, which had been etched on the back of the cards.

  Attracted by the light of the deck, the petite, handicapped, Asian girl and other civilians in the vicinity looked my way with complicated gazes. Ignoring them and saving my joy of receiving a Grim Deck for ter, I summoned my Cypher Card instinctively, and went through it, bracing myself for whatever fate had in store for me.

  [ — Cypher Card —

  Name: Crayon V. Wyatt

  Race: Human

  Gender: Male

  Age: 19 years, 1 month, 26 days

  Health: Malnourished, Mildly Exhausted, Injured

  Grim Deck: Latent (2/54)

  Grim Cypher: Fractured Fate

  You are a Grimlock with two fates that obscure your fate to others. You can switch between them at will.

  i) Fateless: You have no fate of your own and can temporarily mirror another's fate, if identified and recorded in the Fate Index.

  ii) Fate Report: You may get reports about others' fates.

  Note:

  i) Seek medical attention to prevent your condition from worsening.

  ii) Two out of the fifty-two card slots in your Grim Deck are occupied by: Cypher Card, Grim Web Card. The rest of the ?Grim Deck is empty.

  iii) A Grim Deck can contain only one unique Grim Cypher per Grimlock, which is etched onto the back of all fifty-two cards in the deck.]