Kryptonians: Man of Steel

Chapter 1531 Daily life
Hachiman Hikigaya struggled futilely on the cold, rough concrete like a dehydrated fish. Each muscle spasm aggravated his unhealed wounds, bringing sharp, stabbing pains.

He gritted his teeth, his jawline taut, veins bulging on his forehead, and finally, with the last bit of strength he had left, he flipped his heavy body over, lying on his back.

Suddenly, the view opened up, revealing a leaden gray sky.

The color was so heavy it was suffocating, like a huge rag soaked in sewage, pressing down on your head, squeezing your chest, making even breathing difficult and sticky.

The air was filled with an indescribable smell, a mixture of rust, dust, and a certain decay—a unique and lingering background noise characteristic of Tokyo in the extraordinary era.

A few withered sycamore leaves were swept up by a cool autumn wind, swirling around like helpless ghosts, before finally drifting down and sticking to his sweaty, cold forehead.

A faint, almost nonexistent breeze swept by, bringing with it the hazy clamor of the distant city and a deeper, more unsettling hum emanating from "over there."

He struggled to turn his eyes, his gaze fixed on the alleyway entrance.

The black sedan, like a lurking beast, had started silently at some point. Its taillights flashed briefly in the dim light before it silently slid into the sparse traffic on the main road and disappeared into the end of the concrete jungle in an instant.

Beside the trash can, the poorly disguised "observer" in an ill-fitting sanitation worker's uniform had long since disappeared, leaving only an empty spot and a few pieces of trash scattered by the wind.

They're gone.

He left with the recordings of his "hysterical" performance, the contemptuous conclusions that he had "mentally collapsed" and "tortured himself," and the final judgment that he was "a pathetic wretch completely crushed by extraordinary pressure."

A chilling, almost cruel smile appeared with difficulty on Hachiman Hikigaya's cracked and chapped lips, only to vanish quickly like a stone thrown into a deep pool, leaving behind only a deeper weariness.

well.

This is exactly what he needs right now. To be misunderstood, ignored, utterly despised, and treated as a useless person driven mad by fear who only uses self-harm to relieve stress.

This deliberately constructed and meticulously staged "misunderstanding" has become the only fragile armor he can currently wear.

It allows him to temporarily escape the gazes of those who are truly dangerous—whether it be the close scrutiny from the official exorcism agencies or the greedy individuals lurking in the shadows who covet supernatural power.

In this era where might makes right and rules have collapsed, a “madman” is far safer than a “potential threat” or a “valuable prey.”

His family had no idea what Hachiman was busy with every day, leaving early and returning late, and assumed he was doing the same thing as before.

The father is still struggling to make a living, the mother is taking care of the household chores, and the younger sister, Komachi, is also worried about getting into a good school.

They might have noticed his exhaustion and occasional injuries upon his return, but with soaring prices, increasing pressure to survive, and an atmosphere of unease permeating the air, everyone was preoccupied with their own problems.

He wasn't deliberately deceiving anyone; he simply knew that some truths would bring not protection, but devastating panic.

However, compared to the dead-eyed high school student who had completely given up on socializing and felt powerless about everything a few months ago, the current Hachiman Hikigaya does have a faint sense of confidence deep down.

The source of this confidence is simple, direct, yet incredibly real.

After all, completing the daily tasks issued by that bizarre "system" would guarantee a stable income of 100,000 yen. Even in Tokyo today, where the cost of living is skyrocketing like a runaway rocket, a simple canned coffee could cost hundreds, even hundreds of thousands of yen!

This is still a huge sum of money that can support a high school student or even an ordinary family for a week or even longer.

It means that Komachi won't have to worry about the cost of cram school, and it means that there will be more meat on the family's dining table.

This 100,000 yen was the most realistic rope he could grasp in this crazy world to protect that little bit of humble daily life.

In the early morning, the corridors of the private Soubu High School were filled with the smell of disinfectant mixed with some indescribable residual energy.

Several first-year students, who had just enrolled, gathered by the window, their heads close together, staring nervously and excitedly at the phone screen held up by one of them.

The screen was showing a live stream of a "folk exorcist": on the edge of an abandoned industrial area that was clearly sealed off, several people wearing homemade protective suits and holding glowing "magical tools" (which looked more like modified stun guns and high-powered flashlights) were cautiously probing something. The camera was shaking violently, and the background sound was filled with the crackling of electricity and indistinct whispers.

"Hey, look! That energy response indicator is jumping really fast!"

"Really? How can they capture that from this far away in a live stream? Is it some kind of special effect?"

"Who knows... But I heard that another 'monster' appeared in Shibuya last night, and several people died... How scary..."

"What's there to be afraid of! Once I get into the 'Demon Exorcism College,' I'll learn real skills..."

In this era, schools' attitudes toward mobile phones have undergone a fundamental shift.

In the past, teachers would either turn a blind eye or strictly prohibit it.

Now? The official regulations clearly state that students must carry mobile devices capable of receiving "emergency early warning information for extraordinary disasters".

Without a mobile phone, one cannot immediately know about nearby evil events, areas with abnormal energy, or official evacuation orders, and may unknowingly step into a deadly situation.

Mobile phones, especially those with built-in special positioning chips, are often the last straw for seeking help when encountering danger.

For most students, being able to openly use their cell phones during breaks or even in some non-core subject classes (with the teacher's tacit approval) is one of the few "benefits" of this disaster-stricken era.

Hachiman Hikigaya leaned against the wall at the end of the corridor, his figure almost blending into the shadows.

He looked no different from the other students around him, who were filled with hope or fear for the future: ordinary school uniform, ordinary black hair, and ordinary (or rather, more tired) dead fish eyes.

He was also looking down at his phone, the screen's light illuminating his expressionless face. But he wasn't watching a live stream, nor was he watching the overwhelming discussions about extraordinary topics on social media.

His fingertips slid rapidly across the screen, accessing a system interface that only he could see—an old-fashioned, even somewhat rudimentary, interface.

(End of this chapter)