Solo Leveling: Forceborn

"Money doesn't buy happiness, but it opens doors that were once locked."

The envelope felt heavier in my hands than it should have. It was just paper, after all, but what it represented was more substantial than the weight could convey. My first paycheck as a Hunter. Inside was more money than I'd ever seen in one place, let alone held in my possession. A tangible reward for risking my life in the dungeon.

I walked back to the ramshackle apartment I had called home for years. It wasn't much, a cramped studio on the outskirts of the city with peeling wallpaper and a faucet that leaked into a steady dripping. But it had been mine, a sort of sanctuary.

As I unlock the door and step inside, I look around with fresh eyes. There's the beat-up couch, the second-hand table, and the stack of books I've scrounged up from thrift stores. Everything in this place had a story. Every corner held some memory of those nights spent dreaming of something more.

Now I finally had my chance to make that dream real.

The next morning, I stood in front of the real estate office in Midtown. The agent greeted me with a polished smile and a list of available rentals.

"You're looking for something close to the guild, right?" she asked.

I nodded. "Something modest but comfortable."

We ventured out and looked at each one. But one showed immediate promise. It was small but modern, and in the third floor of a building that was literally a two-minute walk from the headquarters of Ironclad. Great big windows flowed in light, and there was a smallish balcony overlooking a teeming city.

"This one," I said to myself, and a spark of excitement I hadn't felt in years flared to life.

Paperwork was a blur of signatures and formalities. At the end of the day, I walked out with keys to my new home.

Leaving the old apartment was bittersweet. Every item I packed brought memories back. The worn-out blanket from the orphanage, the cracked coffee mug I salvaged during my first job, the journal where I scribbled half-formed ideas and distant hopes.

In it, I found a few boxes of mementos from my parents. A faded photograph of my mother, smiling in the sunlight. Pocket watch belonging to dad, frozen by time. After holding them a bit, letting waves of emotions carry me away, I placed the mementos gently in that box.

By evening, I stood in the empty apartment, my footsteps echoing off the walls. I thought of who I had been when I first moved here-a scared, uncertain teenager with nothing but determination-and now?

Now, I was stepping into a new chapter of my life.

It felt like a new world. I started with buying a proper bed: soft, sturdy, something I would sleep well in. I upgraded from the broken coffee mug and invested in some good ceramic set for drinking. First, I was able to spend on small luxuries: I got a bookshelf for all the novels I wanted to collect, a rug to warm the place up a bit, and a lamp with that golden glow around it.

That night, sitting on the balcony with a cup of coffee, I looked out over the city. The hum of life below was a comforting reminder that I wasn't alone anymore. I had a guild, a team, and now a place to call my own.

I thought of Allen and the rest of the team, of the dungeon runs and the trust we had built. And I thought of the path ahead—the challenges, the risks, the rewards.

For the first time in a long while, I felt at peace. Not because life was easy, but because it was moving forward.

The old apartment was just an empty shell now, but it had been my starting point. As I closed the door behind me for the last time, I whispered a quiet goodbye.

"Here's to new beginnings," I said to no one in particular. And with that, I stepped into the future, the key to my new life clinking softly in my pocket.