➳ sᴇᴏɴɢᴊᴏᴏɴɢ ___ ❝Just remember, in this world, everyone's a player. You either play the game or you get played.❞
In a dystopian city where memories are coveted as currency, Seonghwa wakes up in a shadowy alley with no recollection of his past. St...
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"Oi newbie! Come lend a hand, will you? You too, Asher."
Seonghwa tore his gaze away from the cargo drone he was preparing, and looked over to the two dockers gathered in front of a towering billboard shrouded in a protective wrapper.
"What do they need?" he inquired.
Asher remained silent, nudging Seonghwa forward as they approached the pair of dockworkers hunched over on the ground.
"What do you need?" Asher asked nonchalantly, tossing aside the lollipop he had been sucking on.
The grizzled and gruff looking men pointed to the towering billboard wrapped in a damaged protective casing. "We need to re-wrap this propaganda, " one of them said. "The case took a hit during transport. The sooner we fix it, the better."
Asher let out a groan, squashing the discarded lollipop beneath his boot before turning to Seonghwa, who had been inspecting the damage. "Seonghwa, could you fetch the wrapper from the truck while we deal with this mess?"
"Sure thing," Seonghwa responded, heading towards the truck loaded with more propaganda billboards awaiting shipment.
He couldn't quite recall how he stumbled into this job, but he was grateful nonetheless. It had been a month since he had joined as a dock worker, and while it wasn't the most thrilling job, the sense of purpose it brought him was immeasurable. He hadn't been actively seeking work. Just wandering toward the docks in search of shelter for the night, and then he was roped in by a man struggling with a crate of propaganda leaflets.
"Boy, give me a hand to lift this stuff," the man had growled.
Despite his physical fatigue from hunger and lack of sleep, Seonghwa had managed to assist efficiently, earning the man's approval in the process. Before he knew it, he found himself hired as a dockworker.
"We lack youngsters like you here, you'll do the job!" the man had declared, his tone gruff but not unkind.
Adjusting to life as a dock worker hadn't been easy. People were wary of newcomers, and Seonghwa's memory loss only added to their scepticism. He kept his past as a victim of the elite close to his chest, knowing all too well the stigma that accompanied such a revelation—people tended to avoid those associated with bad luck and dark secrets.
For Seonghwa, this job was everything—a lifeline in a world where opportunities were scarce and trust was hard to build. He couldn't afford to jeopardise it, not when it was all he had.
