After flying to the top of the nearest and tallest building, I made sure my hat wasn't easily accessible before slipping inside it.
The interior was surprisingly roomy. Thanks to the Harry Potter–style magic used to expand its space, the walls and floor were made from the same material as the hat itself—soft to the touch, yet firm enough to walk on without issue.
Normally, entering something like this would require enough room for a full human body to pass through, or the use of magic. But since the hat was stretchy, I could get inside without worrying about getting stuck halfway through.
Thankfully, I hadn't wasted money on something unusable.
Before calling it a night, I bought a few necessities: a bed, a pillow, a blanket, pajamas, and a plush hug pillow. I also picked up a Glow Ring from Stardew Valley to serve as a light source.
For now, this would be enough.
As I slipped into the land of dreams, the world outside began to change drastically.
The streets and alleyways that had once been full of people became deadly silent and empty. The Backstreets looked like an abandoned city. Anyone caught outside was desperately searching for a place to hide or begging for someone—anyone—to let them in.
But in this world, people would rather eat their own fingers than open even an inch of their door to a stranger, let alone risk their families' lives.
As soon as the moon rose over the horizon, the Backstreets became a death trap.
Killers emerged. And worse.
Some people had all of their blood drained. Others were dragged away to be experimented on. Some had their organs harvested and sold for profit—assuming they weren't simply kidnapped and turned into food.
Blood. Gore. Screams.
And despite the carnage, this was normal.
It would happen again tomorrow.
And the day after that.
In this world, nightfall wasn't an event.
It was routine.
And somehow, this was something I would need to get used to—and quickly.
Morning came faster than expected.
I started my day by buying toothpaste, a toothbrush, two cups, a gallon of water, and the Trash Can Fetcher from Stardew Valley, which allowed me to dispose of trash—or anything else—through my system.
After brushing my teeth and using the Trash Can Fetcher to get rid of the water I used to rinse my mouth, I exited my hat and stood on the rooftop.
A strong smell of iron hit me immediately.
At first, I was confused—until I remembered the entire reason I had decided to live inside my hat in the first place.
The night.
Then it clicked.
Below me, there were most definitely dead bodies.
And unlike the people born here—people used to scenes like this—I wasn't.
Knowing that panicking could get me killed, I opened the shop and searched for something—anything—that could help me calm down.
That's when I found it.
A Quirk called Mood Candy.
The Quirk allowed the user to produce candy from their body—not ordinary candy, but candy that affected the emotions of whoever ate it. Happiness. Sadness. Anger. Boredom. And more.
There were limits, of course. It couldn't erase strong emotions—only dull them. If I were bleeding out and terrified, candy meant to induce peace or joy would only slightly reduce the fear. It also did nothing for physical pain.
Even so, it cost a significant amount of points.
With some regret, I bought it.
I activated the Quirk immediately and created a few gummy worms designed to induce calm.
The candy's color depended on the emotion it carried:
Yellow for joy.
Blue for sadness.
Green for envy.
Red for anger.
White for peace.
Black for negative emotions.
Brown for empathy.
Purple for nervousness.
Rainbow for confusion.
I made a few white gummy worms.
Then I ate them.
The panic dulled.
Not gone—but manageable.
While browsing, I learned something else: normal items without special properties or advanced technology were cheap. Basic water cost almost nothing.
Healing water from Starbound, on the other hand, was absurdly expensive.
Unfortunate.
But understandable.
After letting the candy finish its work, I flew down from the rooftop. My cloak from Owlboy was already proving to be an excellent purchase.
The sight below was something no one should ever have to see.
Bodies.
Blood pooled in cracks along the pavement.
Further down the street, scavengers were already at work—picking through corpses like it was the natural currency of the Backstreets. Clothing. Weapons. Valuables. Even undamaged organs.
They moved quickly.
Efficiently.
Without hesitation.
Without respect.
As I watched, shock still present but dulled by the Mood Candy, a splitting headache struck me.
More memories surfaced.
Clearer this time.
The scavengers were called Rats.
The lowest of the low in the pecking order of the world tied to Lobotomy Corporation. Most people started as Rats.
Most people died as Rats.
Only a few ever climbed higher—by joining a syndicate, buying cybernetic enhancements, acquiring proper weapons, or gaining access to rare things like magical tattoos or unnatural augmentations.
The Backstreets didn't reward kindness.
They rewarded survival.
And survival meant becoming stronger—or becoming meat.
As I stood there, staring at the carnage, discomfort, disgust, and fear began creeping back in. The only thing keeping me from breaking down were the white gummy worms I was still chewing.
Then I noticed something else.
Scrap.
Broken metal. Shattered glass. Discarded plastic. Torn fabric. Trash left behind once everything valuable had been stripped away.
Something to focus on.
Something productive.
I decided to test the Recycler from Stardew Valley.
I didn't need to take it out of my system inventory. I didn't even need to touch what I wanted to recycle. As long as I stood close enough, the system absorbed the selected items.
They vanished as if pulled into a tiny, invisible black hole.
Only the chosen items were affected.
Moments later, the recycler produced compact material blocks. Plastic condensed into solid bricks. Metal refined itself into clean ingots. Glass became usable, intact material.
Efficient.
Simple.
Useful.
Then I discovered another feature I'd overlooked.
The system allowed me to sell items directly to the shop for points.
Which meant those recycled material blocks could either be saved for crafting—or sold immediately for profit.
In a place like the Backstreets, where trash was everywhere…
That meant opportunity.
And maybe—just maybe—a sustainable way to survive.
And grow stronger.
End of Chapter Two.