Bab 1: Joining the Group Chat By Accident

The rain poured relentlessly from the gloomy Tokyo skies as a young man, clad in an all-black hoodie and faded blue pants, emerged from the bustling train station. Struggling beneath the weight of a bulging backpack and tugging his suitcase, he weaved his way through the bustling throngs of people. It was apparent that the rain had caught most commuters off-guard; some were darting in all directions, searching for refuge, while others made a frantic dash, hoping to outpace the impending downpour.

Our protagonist, however, seemed unfazed by the prospect of getting drenched. He strolled casually into the crowded streets, eyes scanning for a car with a distinct shade of blue. He didn't have to search for long before he spotted a vehicle that matched the description provided in a message.

The car's windows were tinted, concealing the identity of its occupant. To alert the driver, the young man rapped lightly on the windshield. The glass slowly descended, revealing a woman around 30 years old, who offered him a warm smile.

"You arrived quicker than I expected," she remarked.

He remained silent, merely nodding in response. Without further ado, he loaded his suitcase and backpack into the trunk of the car. Once he had stowed away his belongings, he slipped into the passenger seat, fastened his seatbelt, and settled in for the ride.

"You've gotten a lot quieter over the years, haven't you? I didn't expect you to grow up so quickly," she remarked in a casual yet serious tone.

He glanced out of the window and replied, "I've always been like this, you must be mistaken."

"No, I mean back when your parents were still around. You used to be such a chatty, sociable kid. But since they passed away, you seem to have changed."

"That's because I'm fed up with all the nonsense my relatives spew, trying to convince me to give up the land and the house. They want me to abandon what's rightfully mine, despite the clear will stating I'm the inheritor. Suddenly, they're all showing up now that there's an inheritance at stake."

"Who wouldn't? The money your parents left you is substantial, and that house we're heading to is worth a pretty penny. Those who know its value will certainly try to grab it from you."

"Hmph... I'd rather sell the house and keep the money for myself than let them have it."

The woman smiled and decided to fall silent, gazing out at the passing scenery as they continued their journey. The rest of the ride was filled with a contemplative hush until they finally reached their destination.

The car rolled to a stop in front of a house guarded by a sturdy metal gate, and both of them climbed out. The rain had finally eased up to a light drizzle, sparing them the hassle of fumbling for an umbrella. The young man hoisted the suitcase from the trunk and approached the gate, where the woman was busy unlocking it.

"You still recognize this place?" she asked, her eyes on the gate as it swung open.

"Barely. Feels like it's been wiped from my memory," the young man admitted with a bemused shake of his head.

"Well, that's alright. You can start fresh here, and create new memories instead of clinging to the old ones you barely recall. It's your house now, after all. Who knows, you might find happiness here," she suggested with a warm smile.

"I guess," he replied with a nonchalant shrug, following her through the gate.

Even though he couldn't summon any specific recollections of his past experiences here, a wave of nostalgia washed over him as he stood before the old mansion. It possessed an aura of tradition, but it had seen its fair share of repairs and renovations, evident in the mingling scents of concrete and fresh wood. Despite the changes, the core structure remained remarkably intact.

She grabbed the young man's backpack and suitcase, lugging them into the house. He followed silently, his gaze wandering around the place, clearly impressed.

The house appeared decent, but it bore visible signs of repair. You could spot patches where new concrete and fresh wood stood out against the original materials. There was an unusual, slightly musty odor that permeated the air, a consequence of disuse rather than neglect. He knew it would change once he settled in.

"I'll head back now; I've got some things to take care of at home. I've arranged some essentials for you, although most of the items here belonged to your parents. This place is yours now, so it's up to you to clean up and maintain it. If you need anything, just give me a call."

"Are you leaving already? Why not stay a while and have dinner? I can cook," the young man offered.

"That's very kind of you, but I have to decline. Anyway, I should get going. I know you can handle it. Now that you're on your own and the owner of this house, you'll have to learn to live independently. Best of luck. Just remember, if you ever need help, don't hesitate to ask."

The young man gave a nod and a grateful bow to the woman. With a quick goodbye, he showed her out of the house, though they never got around to introducing themselves. Maybe it was her rush, or perhaps he just didn't mind the formality. She had been a friend of his parents, the caretaker of this house until it became his inheritance. He appreciated her for keeping the place in order, but that was the extent of their connection—a passing acquaintance.

Exhausted from the long day, he didn't bother changing clothes. He simply searched for the bedroom and, upon finding it, collapsed onto the bed with a heavy sigh.

"So f*cking tired..." he muttered as he tried to close his eyes.

Now that all the stress is finally reaching its breaking point, he won't have to deal with any more problems in the near future. Once this whole ordeal is over, those annoying relatives won't be a constant source of annoyance, and he can finally get back to focusing on school without any distractions.

It didn't take him too long to drift off to sleep, his mind finally at ease.

He woke up as the morning sunlight streamed into the room, making it impossible for him to retreat into the world of dreams. Rubbing his eyes, he realized that he had passed out on his bed without even bothering to have dinner the previous night. No wonder his stomach was growling. Fortunately, there was a stack of groceries waiting for him in the refrigerator as a welcome gift, sparing him the need to rush to the store anytime soon.

After fixing himself a quick breakfast, he decided to take a look at his schedule. With the new semester not starting for another week, he couldn't help but feel grateful that he had chosen to transfer. Otherwise, he'd be in a mad scramble to catch up on lessons and assignments.

As he was wrapping up some tasks, a notification on his phone caught his attention. He furrowed his brow, wondering who could be messaging him. He had deliberately blocked most of his nagging relatives who pestered him about the house, so it had to be someone important. He quickly opened the message and, as expected, it was from none other than the student council president of the school he was soon to attend. He recalled providing his contact information when he filled out the transfer documents, so that must have been how the president got in touch.

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Prez: Hello! Good day to you! Hope I am not disturbing you, yeah?

Me: Not at all. Is there something that you need me?

Prez: Oh, don't worry about it. I am just here to tell you to join the group chat of the class you are placed in. That way, you can have a good chat with everyone that you will be interacting with once school officially begins. It is also a way for the teachers to interact with their students and for them to post some assignments, announcements, and stuff that they might have forgotten to give during the day. It's pretty much easy. Heard of the Harmony? That is the chat I am talking about.

Me: Oh, I knew how to do that, but my old account was no longer active.

Prez: No problem, just sign up again and use the code to the Harmony and type it in so that you don't get lost and immediately join in immediately. Alright?

Me: Sure.

Prez: Alright then, I don't think I need to waste more of your time. Anyways, once the official new term begins. We will officially welcome you.

Chat Ended

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After wrapping up the chat, he found himself contemplating a decision – a revisit to that old app. He'd had an account there once, way back, back when he needed it for a class, the same reason he was considering it now. But that old account had become a magnet for all sorts of troublemakers, including some pesky relatives. So, he'd pulled the plug on it to regain his sanity. Who would've guessed he'd ever come back to it?

After downloading and installing the app once more, he couldn't help but feel a sense of déjà vu. With a deep breath, he launched it and began the sign-up process all over again.

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WELCOME TO Harmony!

TO BEGIN YOUR JOURNEY, WE WOULD LIKE TO ASK YOU A QUESTION:

Are you a new user or an existing user?

Yes/No

(Clicks No)

A NEW USER EH? WELCOME TO Harmony! TO ESTABLISH YOUR ACCOUNT, PLEASE SET YOUR NAME AND THE NICKNAME YOU DESIRE TO PUT ON YOUR ACCOUNT.

Name: Kazuma Fukuyama

Nickname: Kazuma

ARE ALL THE INFO ABOVE CORRECT?

YES/ NO

(Clicks Yes)

EXCELLENT! IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BIND YOUR ACCOUNT TO AN EMAIL ADDRESS, YOU CAN DO IT IN THE SETTINGS. WITH ALL SAID AND DONE, YOU CAN NOW BEGIN WITH YOUR NEW FIRST EXPERIENCE IN Harmony!

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And just like that, Kazuma had his shiny new account all set up. He navigated through the labyrinth of group chats available in the sprawling expanse of Harmony. There were colossal group chats across various channels, and they greeted him with a list of tempting recommendations.

But he also had another option, the direct invite, a secret handshake of sorts, where you needed a unique code to gain access. These codes were like precious keys, granting access to one specific group chat and no other. This made it easier to invite people to join, whether through a roll of the dice in a random chat or by the exchange of secretive codes in private ones.

Armed with a code from his classmate, he punched it into the group chat finder. If the group chat existed, Kazuma would seamlessly become a part of it. Unless, of course, it was as private as a vault, where even random entry required the owner's blessing.

He took a deep breath, hit the Enter key, and just like that, he was in. But when he checked out the group chat he'd joined, it became glaringly obvious that he'd ended up on the wrong server, landing in a chat that had absolutely nothing to do with school.

"KABBALAH?" Kazuma wondered aloud, his brow furrowing in bewilderment.