Marvelous Journey : A Transmigrator Journey

Hum Flicker

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as Andy fought back another yawn. His body slumped against the counter despite his best efforts to stay alert. The digital clock's red numbers ticked by painfully slow, each minute feeling like an hour.

Beep

His phone notification reminded him of tomorrow's study schedule, making him curse under his breath. "Fucking manager," he muttered, rubbing his tired eyes. "Part-time my ass."

After six months of juggling school and work, he thought he had it figured out. The deal had been crystal clear - afternoon shifts on weekdays, nights only on Friday and Saturday. Perfect for a high school senior trying to earn some extra cash while padding his resume. Hell, he'd even reminded the manager last week that this was his finals week.

(And yet here I am), he thought bitterly, (covering Nick's shift because that asshole called in "sick" again.)

Tap Tap

Andy's fingers drummed against the counter, his mind drifting to the exam he'd just finished. The questions still swirled in his head, mixing with inventory numbers and register totals until everything became a blur.

(At least it'll be over soon), he thought, allowing himself a small smile. Just a few more weeks until graduation, then off to CUNY. Sure, he'd probably end up working another dead-end job, but at least it would be closer to the campus.

Rustle

The midnight wind rattled the store's windows, making the promotional posters flutter. Andy straightened his name tag out of habit, remembering his manager's endless lectures about "professional appearance." As if anyone gave a damn what a convenience store clerk looked like at this hour.

Ding Dong

The door chime shattered his brooding. Andy pushed himself upright, ready to deliver his rehearsed welcome - then froze as an overwhelming stench hit his nostrils.

"Holy shit," he whispered, fighting his gag reflex. A young man stumbled through the entrance, his appearance making it hard to guess his exact age under the layers of filth. His clothes hung in tatters, like he'd been through hell and back.

(Keep it professional), Andy reminded himself, though his stomach churned. The employee handbook was clear - every customer deserved a greeting, even if they smelled like someone who's decide to plunge into a sewage.

Inhale Exhale

"Welcome to 8's," Andy managed, his voice strained. "How can I help you today?"

The stranger remained motionless, swaying slightly near the entrance. Slowly, almost mechanically, he turned toward Andy's voice. Their eyes met, and an inexplicable chill ran down Andy's spine.

(Something's not right about this guy), he thought, as his instincts screaming warnings he couldn't quite understand.

"Alright then," Andy gestured vaguely toward the aisles, desperate to break the unsettling eye contact. "Feel free to look around."

Shuffle Step

Andy retreated behind his counter, keeping a wary eye on the strange customer. This wasn't his first time dealing with sketchy people - working nights in New York meant seeing all sorts of people. But something about this guy set off every alarm bell in his head.

(Should I call the manager?), he wondered, hand hovering near the store phone. But what would he say? "Hey boss, there's a smelly guy here and he's creeping me out"? Yeah, like that'd go over well.

Tick Tick

The wall clock's sound seemed louder in the tense silence. The customer hadn't moved from his spot, neither browsing nor speaking. Andy's initial unease morphed into irritation as the minutes dragged on.

"Come on, man," Andy muttered under his breath. "Either buy something or get out."

Shuffle

Finally, a movement caught his eye. The young man had started toward the bread shelves, his gait oddly uneven. Andy watched as he picked up a package of bread, turning it over and over like he'd never seen one before.

(What's this guy's deal?), Andy thought, baffled by the strange behavior. The way the customer examined each item reminded him of his grandmother visiting from the countryside, confused by everything in the store.

Crinkle Crinkle

The sound of packaging being handled drew Andy's attention back. The stranger now held several bread packages, studying each one with intense concentration. His movements were careful, almost reverent - definitely not the behavior Andy expected from someone who looked fresh out of a dumpster.

(Please have money), Andy thought, watching the guy add water bottles to his collection. (I really don't want to restock all that stuff after he's touched it.)

"Use a basket, for Christ's sake," Andy grumbled as the stranger struggled to carry everything. But something about the way the guy moved caught his attention - that wasn't a drunk's stumble or an addict's shuffle. He favored one leg, like he was hurt.

Shuffle Tap

The customer's slow approach to the counter made Andy straighten up. Whatever was about to happen, better to get it over with quickly. He watched the strange young man carefully set each item down, movements precise despite his disheveled appearance.

Tick Tick Tick

For what felt like forever, they just stared at each other. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead as Andy's patience wore thinner with each passing second.

Rustle

Finally, the guy spoke. The sounds flowing from his mouth were completely foreign - definitely not English, with tones that rose and fell in patterns Andy had never heard before. The guy spoke several time, but Andy still didn't now what he said.

"What? Look man, I don't understand what you're saying. Can't you speak English?" Andy asked, his voice tight.

The continued blank stare told him everything he needed to know.

Thump Thump

Andy's heart began to race as realization hit. The guy's Asian features, the foreign language, the injured leg - shit, this was starting to look bad. Recent news stories flooded his mind, whispers about human trafficking in the area.

(Oh fuck), Andy thought, cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. (Is this dude running from something? Did he escape from somewhere?)

His mind raced. If this guy was caught up in something illegal, even as a victim, Andy wanted no part of it. The dude's fingerprints were all over the products now. No way to pretend this never happened if cops started asking questions.

Rustle Crinkle

"Screw it," Andy muttered. He grabbed a plastic bag, the material crinkling loudly in his shaking hands as he shoved the bread and water inside. "Just take it and go, alright? It's on me."

The guy hesitated, confusion clear on his face. He began to hold what Andy guess as his wallet.

Looking at that, Andy made an exaggerated shooing motion with his hands. "Go on, get out of here before someone else comes in!"

Shuffle

Finally, the message seemed to get through. The stranger carefully took the bag, then surprised Andy with a deep, formal bow before shuffling toward the exit.

Ding Dong

The door chime announced his departure, leaving Andy alone with his racing thoughts and the lingering smell of unwashed clothes.

Whoosh

Relief washed over him like a cold shower, his heartbeat finally beginning to slow. Crisis averted, even if it wasn't exactly by the book. But as the adrenaline faded, that familiar New York cynicism crept back in. There goes an hour's wages, just like that - bread and water walking right out the door for free.

Creak

Andy slumped against the counter, the cheap plastic creaking under his weight. "I better not get fired over this shit," he grumbled, rubbing his temples. Yet as the night dragged on, he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd done the right thing. Whatever that guy was mixed up in, at least he wouldn't go hungry tonight.

(Maybe I should've called someone), he thought, then shook his head. (Nah, better to just let it go. Some things in this city, you're better off not knowing.)

_________________________

Blink Blink

Arvin's eyes struggled to adjust from the dark alley to the harsh fluorescent lighting. The endless rows of shelves before him held more items than he'd ever seen in one place, their colorful packaging swimming in his vision.

Cough Clear throat

A sound drew his attention toward the counter. The young man standing there made Arvin pause - brown hair, fair skin, and brown eyes, features so different from anyone he'd known back home. The stranger's mouth moved, producing words that he didn't know.

(What language is that?), Arvin wondered, his forehead creasing with effort as he tried to understand. The words sounded nothing like Chinese or any Indonesian dialect he knew. A wave of discomfort washed over him as he realized just how far from home he must be.

Rustle

The clerk made a sweeping gesture toward the shelves, his intent clear despite the language barrier. Arvin nodded gratefully, appreciating the simple direction. His empty stomach chose that moment to remind him of its presence.

Grumble

Taking careful steps to avoid straining his injured leg, Arvin approached the nearest shelf. The bread packages caught his eye immediately, their wrappings decorated with bright pictures that drew him closer.

(Chinese) "Let's see," he muttered under his breath, examining each package carefully. The red packaging clearly showed strawberries, while the brown one displayed chocolate. But some of the other flavors remained a mystery, their foreign labels was not helping.

Crinkle

Arvin picked up several packages, his trained mind cataloging details despite his hunger. The bread felt softer than what he remembered from home, its packaging more elaborate. He added water bottles next - at least those were recognizable anywhere.

His fingers brushed against the yuan notes in his pocket. The familiar texture of money brought little comfort now. Five years of training in China hadn't prepared him for whatever this place was, with its strange and unfamiliar language.

Shuffle Step

Moving toward the counter proved harder than expected. His leg throbbed with each step, and balancing multiple items while maintaining dignity took all his concentration. He heard the clerk say something - probably about a basket, judging by the gestures - but Arvin focused on not dropping anything.

(Chinese) "Excuse me," he started politely as he reached the counter. (Chinese) "Could you tell me how much these cost?"

The clerk's blank expression told him everything. Arvin tried again. He even also said something in Indonesian. Unfortunately, each attempt meeting the same wall, the language barrier. Frustration built in his chest - not at the clerk, but at his own helplessness.

Inhale Exhale

(Stay calm), he reminded himself, forcing his breathing to steady. His training had taught him that panic solved nothing - whether facing an opponent or a confusing situation like this.

The clerk spoke again, his tone different now. Something about the way he looked at Arvin had changed - there was worry there, maybe even fear. Arvin understood why; he must look suspicious, covered in dirt and unable to speak the language.

Rustle

Suddenly, the clerk started bagging the items, his movements quick and nervous. Arvin reached for his wallet, but the other young man waved his hands, making shooing motions toward the door.

(Is he... giving these to me?), Arvin wondered, confusion mixing with gratitude. The gesture's kindness struck him deeply, especially coming from a complete stranger.

Following his habit, Arvin bowed deeply - the formal way his master had taught him. He might not be able to express his thanks in words, but this universal gesture of respect needed no translation.

Ding Dong

The cool night air hit his face as he stepped outside, the plastic bag rustling against his leg. The store's fluorescent light spilled onto the sidewalk, creating a small pool of brightness in the darkness. His stomach growled at the thought of food, but wisdom gained from years of training held him back. Better to find a safer place first.

(At least I have food now), he thought, clutching the bag closer. (And someone showed kindness, even if they thought I might be suspicious.)

Standing still for a moment, Arvin considered his options. The unfamiliar cityscape stretched out before him, its towering buildings casting long shadows under the night sky. He couldn't return to the port area - it was too far and too exposed. He needed somewhere closer, somewhere sheltered.

Tap Tap

His footsteps echoed in the empty street as he searched for a sheltered spot to rest. Tomorrow he could worry about where he was and how to get home. For now, he just needed to eat, rest, and let his body heal.

The gentle weight of the wooden case in his jacket pocket reminded him that not everything familiar was lost. Whatever had brought him here, he still had his training, his discipline, and now - unexpectedly - proof that kindness existed even in this strange place.

Taking a deep breath, Arvin turned left, moving deeper into the unknown city night.