You’re Telling Me This Is a Slice-of-Life?

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Tattered leather shoes struck against the steps as Yuuki gripped his blade and led two stunning young women into the subway station. The signage on the walls indicated that this was Red Moon City’s Line 7.

Whether it was the blade in his hand or the bloodstains on his clothes, both were enough to send the fleeing crowds scrambling even faster. A few security guards brandishing riot batons rushed forward, only to freeze when they saw Yuuki’s furrowed brows and murderous aura—then promptly turned and fled.

That’s more like it. Who in their right mind would risk their life for a measly few hundred bucks a month?

Even knowing they were still inside the dungeon, Yuuki had no interest in senseless slaughter. This death game didn’t operate on a points system, so going on a killing spree was unnecessary.

He sprinted all the way to the lowest level, stopping only when he reached the tunnel where the iron tracks ran. His feet slowed, but the tight furrow in his brows remained.

【Innate Trait—Regalia of the Unknown】

【Each day, you will randomly draw a single Regalia. A Regalia manifests as your unique perception and may take the form of a concept, a persona, or more. Regalia cannot be stored and are single-use, lasting for one day only.】

【Description: The world is defined by what is known, and you stand beyond it as the unknown. By wielding this unknown, you will change everything.】

According to the game’s explanation, an “innate trait” was the manifestation of a player’s defining characteristic or deepest desire. Sakurajima Mai’s case proved the game’s authenticity beyond doubt.

Yuuki didn’t even bother checking how to activate it—he skipped straight to the description. And in that instant, his heart nearly stopped.

Such a roundabout way of saying it… but isn’t this just pointing out that I’m a transmigrator?

[How did the death game detect this? Could it be related to that diary I glimpsed right after I arrived in this world? And what kind of consequences will this bring?]

These were questions with no clear answers, but one thing Yuuki did know for certain:

Defining characteristic? Deepest desire?

Two lifetimes spent as a medical student. A player constantly preparing for the supernatural. Even if one of his trained skills had been transformed into an innate trait, none of them were unique enough.

[…So that’s it. My greatest defining feature is the fact that I am a transmigrator. The reason I never let go of that identity is because I’ve always been preparing to face the unknown.]

It made sense now. His innate trait was the crystallization of his identity as an outsider to this world—just like how he recognized Hayasaka Ai and Sakurajima Mai at first glance, while they knew nothing about him.

As for why he wasn’t granted omniscience? That was just as obvious. Take Li Dan and Thomas, for example—Yuuki knew next to nothing about them.

“Hey, what’s with that blank stare?”

Yuuki had been standing motionless on the platform for a good ten seconds before Mai gave him a firm pat on the back, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Jump down. Stay close to the walls as we move.”

As “rioters,” boarding the subway was out of the question. The three of them leaped onto the tracks, heads swiveling back and forth.

“Which way?” Hayasak Ai asked.

Yuuki glanced around briefly before pointing to the left. “That way—isn’t the castle in that direction?”

“I think so, but this is the terminal station. It’s a dead end up ahead. We should go right instead.” Sakurajima Mai gestured to the station map. She had noticed this detail earlier while they were fleeing.

“…Did either of you happen to estimate how deep underground we are?”

Uh.

Hayasaka Ai and Sakurajima Mai exchanged looks. Then, in perfect sync, they shook their heads. They had been too busy running for their lives to spare a single thought for that kind of thing.

“I did. We’re going left.” Yuuki’s lips curled into an odd smile, and without waiting for a response, he started walking down the left-side tunnel.

“Hey, hold up.”

“Isn’t it more dangerous to take the dead-end route? What if we get trapped?”

The girls didn’t understand his reasoning, but they didn’t want to split up either. After a brief moment of hesitation, they reluctantly followed after him—convincing themselves that this was, in fact, the safer option.

If enemies gave chase, they would search along the tunnels. Going right—the obvious escape route—would be even riskier.

Yuuki, however, had an even deeper consideration in mind. Back when they were still on the surface, he had observed that the castle and the plaza were on the same elevation. When they entered the subway, he had made sure to estimate the depth.

[…It’s only off by about five meters from the second basement level of the castle? That can’t just be a coincidence.]

Yuuki didn’t believe in coincidences. Just like when the game first began—if he hadn’t insisted on checking the lowest level, he’d be nothing but gnawed bones by now.

Beyond that, as Hayasaka Ai and Sakurajima Mai had guessed, he needed to stop running. He needed to find a temporary safe zone and thoroughly examine his innate trait.

The Reincarnation game might seem chaotic, yet it operated on a meticulous logic. Back at the start, without a proper weapon, he had no chance of defeating the Licker. Without receiving the Blood Moon’s gift, he never would have made it out alive.

Risk and reward were tightly interwoven. He was willing to take some risks—so long as he could grasp the power that would ensure his survival in the next phase.

Following the tracks, they soon reached a wider space. Judging by the layout of the rails, this was likely a temporary switching station, complete with maintenance facilities. Trains would turn around here before running in the opposite direction.

Not a soul was in sight—clearly, the station workers had fled in the chaos above. That saved Yuuki some trouble. With his knife, he quietly nudged open the door to the staff break room. Inside, the place was deserted, a few bottles of soda spilled across the floor.

“This smells like cola… but the label’s different.” Sakurajima Mai picked up a bottle and sniffed at it, looking disgruntled. “Guess that confirms it—this place isn’t Earth. Even its technological development is weird.”

The three of them had sharp observation skills and had already noticed several inconsistencies. For instance, the crowd above had been filming with smartphones, yet there wasn’t a single security camera in the entire subway system.

“Hasaka, did you find anything?”

Yuuki turned to the blonde, who was seated at a terminal, fingers flying across the keyboard as she navigated through webpage after webpage.

She had been searching for anything familiar—only to come up empty-handed.

“This city’s network is a closed intranet. I can’t find any information on anything outside of ‘Red Moon City,’” Hayasaka Ai replied, visibly frustrated. She glanced at Yuuki’s composed expression and frowned. “You don’t look the least bit surprised. Don’t tell me you’re still acting as an oblivious rookie?”

A castle overrun by ghouls was one thing—it could be accepted as part of the dungeon setting. But now the scenario had expanded to include an entire city. A city filled with seemingly normal people, complete with a structured society, artificial consciousness, and even a functional economy. That went beyond the realm of science fiction.

Yuuki had played the role of an intelligent yet desperate newbie before Li Dan. But Hayasaka Ai had seen the truth—this man had been a professional from the very beginning, more proficient than even veteran players in some areas.

“I’m not acting. For a being capable of bringing us here, that itself is already a miracle. Whether it’s crossing into another world or creating a living, breathing city, both are well within its abilities.”

Yuuki spread his hands, the scene reminding him of The Matrix.

“Maybe we’ve been converted into data and placed inside a preset program—kind of like those trending VR games?”

“So we might be data, trapped inside a game that’s been preconfigured?” Sakurajima Mai entertained the thought, her mind briefly wandering to aliens.

“I was just making a comparison. Don’t forget, Li Dan is a veteran gamer. And don’t forget that despite coming from different places, we were all transported here at the same time. If Mai-san wants to test whether death will wake us up, I’d be happy to assist.”

Yuuki flicked his thumb against the gleaming knife, sending a chill down Sakurajima Mai’s spine. She then caught sight of the teasing glint in his eyes, which ignited her temper. Lifting her chin, she retorted—

“I’ll pass. I’m not a fan of taking risks.”

“Not afraid of pain, are you?”

“I’m not even afraid of death. Why would I be afraid of pain?”

“Huh. Then the scream I heard when I was breaking through must’ve been a hallucination.” Yuuki smacked his forehead, looking troubled. “This reincarnation game sure is brutal—it’s even given me auditory hallucinations.”

“Pfft.”

A certain someone paused mid-keystroke, hastily covering their mouth. But when Sakurajima Mai’s icy gaze swept over, they quickly returned to a deadpan, serious expression.

These two are so annoying.

Mai clenched her fists quietly. She had always thought her sharp tongue was formidable, yet now she had encountered a master of sarcasm. Still, the back-and-forth had distracted her, easing the tension that had been wound to its limit.

She plopped down into a swivel chair, crossing her long legs. Her bunny-girl outfit was already in tatters, but the scratched-up stockings somehow made her even more eye-catching. Yuuki, who was sneakily munching on the on-duty staff’s chips, immediately took notice.

“Hey, that’s a bit shameless, don’t you think?” Sakurajima Mai quickly lowered her legs.

“I think peeking is ruder. Appreciating beauty should be done openly and with dignity. Look into my eyes—see? They’re filled with admiration.”

“All I see is a pervert.” Sakurajima Mai snorted, too drained to argue further. With a dismissive wave, she sighed, “Whatever. I can’t be bothered with you. Let’s talk about what’s next. We can’t stay here for long.”

“Don’t forget Hint #2—we’re no longer inside the castle.” Yuuki finally got a little serious, setting down the bag of chips. “We can’t stay in any single location for more than two hours, which lines up with how quickly we get discovered. Let’s catch our breath first, then figure out what this ‘Innate Trait’ really is. It holds the key to our survival.”

“Yeah, we need to look into it. I suddenly feel like I might actually have the ability to keep going.”

“Heh. With how insane the game difficulty is, if we didn’t have something to work with, we’d be dead for sure.” Yuuki chuckled dryly. The definition of ‘specialization points’ flashed through his mind, leading him to suspect that their innate traits would gradually strengthen.

He was quite curious about what Sakurajima Mai’s trait could do at this stage—but, of course, he couldn’t just ask. She would have to figure it out on her own. With that, he turned and opened the door.

“Hey, you’re not planning to keep secrets from us, are you?” Hayasaka Ai glanced over, her gaze sharp.

“So you noticed after all.” Yuuki’s expression was so sincere that it was impossible to find any fault in it. “Innate traits should be a player’s biggest trump card, so they can’t be revealed lightly. But after all we’ve been through together, why would I keep secrets from you?”

“Then you—”

“I’ll just multitask. While investigating what’s on my mind, I’ll also study my trait. Let’s regroup in about twenty minutes and share what we’ve found.”

Bang.

Yuuki shut the door behind him and turned to peer into the depths of the tunnel. After a long night, he had come to a realization.

Strength was only one part of the equation. If they wanted to survive, intelligence gathering was just as crucial. That’s why Hayasaka Ai and the others could afford to rest—but he couldn’t.

Besides that, Yuuki had an overwhelming curiosity.

A transmigrator’s innate trait—just how peculiar could it be?