Neon Skies Overdrive: Seoul 2137 - The Pulse of Lowtown

Chapter 1: Thirteen Years ago...

Seoul 2137: the start of it all... 13 years earlier!

Jin's day began not with the sun's rise but with the mechanical shriek of his alarm clock. He lay a moment longer, the chaos of his room a mesh of shadows in the pre-dawn gloom. Posters of another age's skyscrapers and tech idols covered the walls, a testament to dreams held fast amid the dust of Lowtown.

Reluctantly, he rose, navigating through the detritus of half-assembled gadgets and cables. In the cramped washroom, the mirror—a piece of smart tech from a smarter era—lit up as he entered. "Mirror, what's the forecast?" he asked, a yawn breaking his sentence.

"Good morning, Jin. The day will be arid, with a high of 40 degrees. Light attire is recommended," replied the AI, its voice impersonal and cool.

Jin opted for a white shirt, threadbare but clean, and his father's old tie. Downstairs, the scent of cooking rice—a fragrance that seemed too pure, too soft for the hard edges of Lowtown—wrapped around him. His mother, Sun-hee, stood at the stove, her back to him.

"Rice, mom?" Jin's voice carried a note of awe. Sun-hee turned, her face warm with a mother's love. "For luck on your test day," she said. Jin embraced her, feeling the quiet strength in her slender frame.

"Thank you, this is... more than I could've asked for," Jin murmured, the gravity of such a luxury not lost on him.

They ate together, Sun-hee recounting tales of a world that once bloomed with rice fields, while Jin listened, savoring each grain. He shared his dreams from the night, and she her hopes, in this small ceremony of mother and son.

Stepping outside, Jin was met with the stark contrast of Lowtown's morning. Buildings leaned wearily on one another, facades pocked with the passage of careless years. The streets bustled with vendors, their stalls a vibrant patchwork against the desolation. He watched as folk haggled over tech—some new, some so old it was nearly historic.

On his way, Jin witnessed the starkness of Lowtown's poverty; robotic limbs traded for a pittance, eyes that had long given up on tomorrow. He passed children whose laughter was a strange melody amid the clang of metal and the silent despair of those who had nothing left to barter.

Reaching the school, Tae-hyung awaited him, his grin a sliver of rebellion against the day's grim expectations. "Heard about the test today?" Tae-hyung asked, the levity in his voice belying his nervousness.

Jin returned the smile with effort. "Only every dread-filled whisper." With their shared trepidation, they stepped through the gates, ready to face the day's trials.

As the shrill echo of the morning bell faded, Jin weaved through the throngs of students, his friend Tae-hyung in tow. The corridors of the high school were an exhibit of Lowtown's ingenuity: walls patched with discarded circuitry, doors refurbished with scrap metal, and floors paved with the composite remnants of old tech.

Jin maneuvered with ease, his mind still adrift with thoughts of white rice and his mother's sacrifices. Tae-hyung nudged him, snapping him back to the now.

"Come on, man," Tae-hyung urged, his voice a mix of excitement and impatience. "Mr. Han's class waits for no one, and you know how he gets about tardiness."

Jin offered a half-smile, picking up the pace. "Lead the way then," he said, adjusting the strap of his bag, its weight a reminder of the tech treasures it carried.

Their conversation turned to the engineering project due next week. Tae-hyung was all ideas and wild gestures, talking of repurposed servo-motors and jury-rigged power cells. Jin, ever the realist, tempered his friend's enthusiasm with practicalities. They needed reliable parts, not just fanciful dreams.