(Tukson's Book Trade, Present, Morning)

It had already been three months since Allen 'arrived' on Remnant. Although, it was more accurate to describe it as being spat out considering some of the things he could put together from his time spent. His current situation involved him wearing a casual, long sleeve black shirt with grey pants and sneakers. His hair was otherwise tied back in a small ponytail with bangs that served to cover the star shape of his scar and yet go down on the sides of his face to better frame it.

Such a style was followed by him shelving books onto a shelf with a small cart of them beside him. It was a decent nine in the morning with his current job as a clerk at Tukson's Book Trade.

You might already be confused about how or why Allen is working at said shop. Well, it all started those three months ago when he first walked through the door.

(Three Months Prior, Allen's Arrival)

Allen couldn't help but smile at the familiar setup in front of him. He wasn't the studious type, outside of combat or survival studies he needed for being out in the wilderness on assignment. But that doesn't mean he didn't enjoy a good book here and there. He loved stories. Granted, he wasn't really well versed in reading or studying outside the basics until Krory taught him for the better part of the two years they spent. Since then, whenever they had a chance, the two usually bought books at shops during their missions as a hobby they shared.

And now, here he finds himself again, in front of a bookstore. Alone this time. Shaking his head, Allen steels himself and walks through the front entrance, calling out.

"H-hello? Is anyone here?" He slowly closed the door behind him and let his eyes wander around the shop's contents. Some books on display carried incredible imagery of a fantasy theme. Others seemed more familiar as they only had hardcovers and the titles in bold writing. But what really caught his eye were extremely thin ones with these strangely costumed figures on the covers. Some had female characters with... very tight-fitting costumes that he couldn't find the purpose behind it so he simply put it down with a blush. He jumped though at a sudden voice.

"You here to just browse kid or you gonna buy something."

When Allen turned around, he had to look up AND take a step back at the towering man in front of him. Black hair with heavy sideburns, a muscular build, a pair of pants Allen remembered a store outside having it labeled as 'jeans', and a brown short sleeve shirt that exposed his forearms along with some stray hair on said limbs. However, it only took barely a second before Allen regained his bearing and began to take out the note.

"Actually, I'm here for some... 'assistance'?" Allen answered. The man gave him a curious look as he handed him the note. "I just arrived from Briar Glenn earlier today. A doctor from the town said I could come here for assistance, although I don't normally know what that would entail."

The man looked at Allen for a moment before taking the note from him. Within seconds, recognition lined his face along with an expression of annoyance before he let out an equally annoyed sigh. "God damn it, Graz. Always sending me the strays."

Allen chuckled. "I take it this isn't the first time she's done such a thing?"

The man sighed. "Nope. Not even close. But she knows I'm not one to turn away someone in need. Fellow Faunus to boot."

Allen scratched the back of his head with a nervous chuckle. Once again, he was having to impersonate a minority he knows very little about. And while he wasn't fond of it, it seemed to be the best way for him to fit in without his arm attracting attention. He was worried originally about his hair too, but from the people out in the streets with different colors that went through every part of the rainbow, he wouldn't catch anyone's eye.

The man crossed his arms as he let out a sigh. "I'm sure you need some help kid, but I hate to say that I'm not in the position to give it to you at the moment."

"Oh." Allen tried his best not to look disappointed. Then again, he was already having plenty of luck at the start, so it'd make sense it wouldn't continue all the time. Regardless, he still gave a polite smile and a nod. "Thank you for your time regardless."

He began to leave but barely opened the door before he was stopped. "Wait." Turning around, he saw the large man with his eyes closed, an expression of frustration as if he was dealing with multiple conflicting thoughts. "I can't give you any help 'for free' at the moment. I assume you just arrived in Vale?"

Allen gave a nod. "Yes. But I should probably add that I lack any major funds whatsoever." He gave an embarrassed laugh at the end of that.

The large man simply raised a hand to dismiss it. "That's fine. What I'm offering should help fix that 'somewhat' and give you a bit of a start." He sighed before continuing. "I have some 'business' on the side I need to do but I also can't afford to keep closing my shop while I do. So, I propose this. I'll pay you a decent percent of the profits and you can help me run the shop when I'm here AND during my absence."

Allen looked at the man curiously as he placed an index finger on his chin while he weighed his options. A job 'would' help take care of most of his current problems. Well, food and funding-wise. But he shouldn't be too hasty. He doesn't know what running this shop with this man would entail. For all he knew, he could be a former criminal or he uses this shop as a cover. Or maybe-

"And since you probably don't have a place to stay, my shop does have a living space that I used originally once upon a time. Granted it's dusty as hell and I mostly use it for storage, but I can lend it out to you- WOAH!"

Allen was in front of the man in mere seconds, shaking his hand furiously with a smile before standing up with his back straight. "Good to be working with you! Allen Walker's the name. Taking care of books is my new game."

The man blinked a few times before nodding. "Um... You can just call me Tukson. A little late but you wouldn't happen to have an identification?"

In response to that, Allen simply chuckled embarrassingly as he rubbed his upper lip with his index finger. Meanwhile, Tukson let out another groan.

(Present)

Funny enough, it wasn't that difficult for Allen to get said identification. His currently forged origins had him written as being from Kuchinashi, a city in the Kingdom of Mistral. Tukson had contacted an orphanage that doubled as a boarding school by the name of Marble Hills and discussed a proper backstory with the headmaster there. How he had such a contact, Allen had preferred not to ask.

Allen was currently recorded to be age sixteen. He was adamant about keeping his birthday on December 25 th , the day Mana had originally adopted him. And also, very thankful that Remnant had a similar naming system for its days of the week and months. Granted, perhaps it was too much to ask for holidays too. Oh well, he could definitely live without Halloween. That is unless this world had an alternative. He really hasn't gone that deep into its culture.

As for his excuse for why he's tending to a shop instead of being in school? That can be answered thanks to Marble Hills being a low-income school. Meaning, no combat classes, no weapon construction, and shorter Grimm anatomy classes. Why those classes would be a part of a curriculum for children, Allen simply brushed it off on the fact that Grimm are the biggest threat, and knowing how to combat them even minorly can help.

But since Marble hills focus only on the basic necessities in an academically focused curriculum, the classes are shortened by a high margin. Unfortunately, just because Allen's diploma from the school is authentic, he unfortunately does NOT have any academic skills pertaining to anything that the school taught. Not even anything he can make up outside of Reading, Writing, and Math. Which means no History, Grimm Studies, or anything that pertains to Remnant. Not even the basics behind the currency, except for the small explanation Ray gave back at Briar Glenn, or even something childish as Fairy Tales!

Such things actually gave Tukson a migraine. Allen could still remember his first week when he asked the man how he can give change for purchase during his first time at the register. After helping the customer at the time, and learning how dire of a need Allen was in for even basic learning, Tukson had him study whenever he wasn't taking care of a task or a customer. And since he didn't have to focus on anything outside the academic area most academies and schools use, he didn't have to stress himself by pressing his face against the pages of textbooks and such.

Granted, he was mostly studying the amount needed to pass, not excel. Most of the textbooks he was using were even out-of-date ones used as references by students or kids that wanted to try and get a head start or that parents bought so their children could grasp the basics. As such, even if he had full marks on the mock tests that these textbooks offered at the end of each lesson, he'd be at a 'B' average if a proper teacher were to grade him. The lower spectrum of a 'B' average specifically.

But still, there's a slight satisfaction he feels even at such an accomplishment. Speaking of small accomplishments, he just finished stocking the shelves with new copies and the latest releases. All are in alphabetical order by title. Frankly, it still confused him how or why the language on Remnant matched so much like his original world's.

The best explanation he got was from Tukson who explained that there used to be more languages, but they slowly died out after the Remnarian, the current language, was developed. They fully became extinct during the great war though, with the only ones who know how to speak or read any of these lost languages being archeologists. The only traces that they existed are from the Color Naming Rule and the different forms of architecture in buildings and accents that developed in different parts of Remnant.

Allen walked away from the bookshelf and back to the main counter of the shop, sitting down behind it and returning to his current studies on 'Remnant's History, Issue 9'. Outdated by 28 years and lacks a quarter of the current material that's used in most academies. Granted, the only real major difference is specifications on previous events and anything that came to light plus more recent history. He still had one more issue to study, but that's the best part about having so much time to yourself when your life isn't constantly on the line.

Within fifteen minutes, another customer would walk in and Allen would simply help them acquire the book they needed. A quiet, peaceful life.

(Tukson's Book Trade Second Floor, 5 PM)

The second floor of the bookstore was akin to a one-bedroom apartment. The layout follows a living room and kitchen that blended into each other with the basic necessities. Such as a somewhat decent kitchen, a couch, a table with two chairs, a bed, and a bathroom with a simple shower. Boxes were laid around as Tukson had stored books that he couldn't bear to throw away. Luckily, there wasn't as much dust though. The floor was partially wood from the kitchen and front entrance with the rest of the apartment having a carpeted floor instead.

Currently, Allen and Tukson were sitting at the table, the two facing each other. Both were having a simple meal of a bowl of rice and some fried chicken. Allen wasn't much of a cook.

'Maybe I should see if I can buy a cookbook from the shop,' Allen wondered to himself. Along with his own bowl of rice and chicken, he also had a few protein bars he would munch on the side randomly in the meal. It was the only way to keep up with the fast metabolism that his appendage curses him with. 'But then again, it won't do me as much good regardless. I'd have to buy a large number of groceries just to keep up with my meal intake if I wanted to go off the protein bars.'

He kept up this train of thought before Tukson reached for something in his pocket and placed a small rectangular object on the center of the table facing Allen. Curiously, the white-haired teen stared at the item as if to try and figure out its function.

It was black in color, with bits of scratches and wear on the sides. There seemed to be something poking out from the sides as if the protrusions could fold out. A dark, glass-like reflective material covered most of the center. On one side of the rectangular object was an area with the outline of another rectangle.

Allen blinked a few times and swallowed the current mouthful of food he had. "Um, what's that?"

"It's an older model scroll," Tukson answered as he ate another spoonful of rice without looking Allen in the eye. "I've had it since I was a teen myself."

Allen picked up the device and rotated it a bit. "It doesn't look like the older Atlas models though."

"That's because it's not. That device was made in Menagerie and Atlas isn't really the go-to over there. Long story short, they basically made their own version of the Scroll over there out of spite for a while before going with the standard models that would be released."

Allen raised an eyebrow at that. "...Why?"

Tukson sighed. "...These ones can't register Aura. It also isn't collapsible. The antenna on the sides has a tendency of falling off regularly if you don't hold it right. Luckily, you can just stick those back on."

"So, it basically lacked anything that would benefit in combat?"

"Pretty much."

"...So... are you just giving it to me?"

Tukson deadpanned. "No. I just happened to get nostalgic, search the back of my closet for half an hour, and brought it here to show it off for no reason."

"...Sarcasm is unbecoming of you," Allen responded as he proceeded to munch on what was the equivalent of his fifth protein bar along with a spoonful of rice. Not a good combination, but needed to keep him running. Meanwhile, Tukson just gave him a sigh of annoyance.

"Look, I just thought you might need some form of communication that doesn't involve the dialer in the shop."

Allen nodded. The device Tukson mentioned was an emergency contact device that was equivalent to a screen inside of a wall. Mostly used for answering deliveries or taking calls directed toward the shop itself. He once again inspected the off-brand scroll in his hand with a smile.

"So... how do I use it?"

(Junior's Club, 9 PM)

Black reflective paneling on the floor and walls. Lights outline the edges and stairs of the inside of the building. Hard-light Dust tree decorations and furniture of varying colors. Loud music and different colored lights all around. This was the vision of the club's owner. An interior that doesn't match the brick-built exterior.

Currently, Allen was wiping down a table and placing a few drinks on a metal tray as he walked back to the bar area of the club. His current form of dress was a pair of dress pants, a white button-up shirt, and a plain black apron. Now you're probably wondering what's happening. Well, you couldn't expect Allen to simply arrive on Remnant and go about as if he didn't have another life previously.

The battles. The friends lost. The monsters fought. The failures. Those things don't just disappear. Which is why Allen doesn't like to sleep as much. Nightmares. Ones that would keep him up longer than he slept no matter how early he went to bed. To counteract this, he'd usually tire himself out as much as possible some days of the week thanks to his application to Junior's. Granted, he was barely being paid that well. But he couldn't really complain.

So yeah, his schedule consists of Tukson's shop closing at 4 and he'd start his shift at Junior's around 8:30 in the evening until 11:30. In which he'd head back to the shop, go through the essentials, and then pass out in a dreamless state until the next morning. Granted, this isn't really a healthy way to get rest and he absolutely realizes he has issues. Tukson realized that firsthand when he took a nap and started having a nightmare.

Allen handed Tukson a new ice pack, wincing as the man was lying on his stomach on the couch.

"Sorry," Allen apologized.

Tukson said nothing for a few moments before finally answering. "You're working overtime for the next week."

"...Yeah, that's fair."
-

Sighing at the memory, Allen returned to the bar and handed the tray of empty glasses to the bartender, who simply acknowledged his existence with a slight nod before handing him a new tray with drinks and pointing to a hard-light dust table at the corner. Taking the tray, he walked over and began to pass around the drinks.

"Okay, so who ordered the Flame Glow Cocktail?" Allen asked before one of the two customers wearing dark clothing raised his hand. For the other, he gave them the only remaining drink on the tray before once again returning to the bartender. If he didn't have any drinks, he'd simply go around the club and ask anyone if they needed refills or clean up empty tables.

Something he noticed very early on though was that it seemed like everyone that worked in the club's security had the same dress code of black tuxedos with red ties and glasses. Even half the customers. Frankly, he was relieved he didn't have to buy a suit himself, but there was always an awkward feeling around them.

Making his way back, Allen spotted the twins, Melanie and Miltia, tossing out the newest poor victim that decided to be more trouble than he was worth. Making eye contact, the both of them gave a synchronized wave and a smirk to Allen, who simply waved back nervously. Frankly, he did not want to get on their bad side, but for the past two months that he's worked at the club, he'd seen plenty of brave fools that chose not to heed that advice.

As soon as he made his way back, another waiter welcomed him with a mop and bucket and simply pointed at another area of the club, specifically a booth with a puddle of what was obviously puke. Sighing, Allen made his way to the area and began another part of his job.

'You know, maybe I should just convince Tukson to expand the shop's hours instead.'

Carefully, he pulled out the bootleg scroll, affectionately called an 'Extension' due to the fact that the protrusions on the sides would slightly extend when it tried to connect to the CCTS or attempt to call another device that was nearby. Turning it on, the black glass screen lit up into a faintly calm, yellow tint as it showed the time and date. Allen had first arrived on Remnant in early June, leaving the new date on the Calendar to show September 4 th with the time now at 9:25 PM.

Meaning he had a good two hours left on his small shift. Sighing, he was just about to shut off the device when it was snatched out of his hands by a red-clawed limb. Allen blinked once. Then twice. And then panic set in when he turned around and saw Miltia Malachite fiddling with the device.

'How did she behind me so fast?' Allen wondered.

"Huh. An Extension. Haven't seen one of these in a while." Miltia commented as she watched the protrusions on the side extend half an inch. "Decent condition too. Kinda wonder where you got such a thing since they're pretty rare." She tossed the device back to Allen.

The teen looked at the device and then back to her. From what he could remember, this version of the device had more copies around back when the previous model of scrolls was out on the market. And that was twelve years ago. Which unfortunately led to a comment coming out of Allen's mouth. "...You are not as young as you look, are you."

…

Needless to say, Allen narrowly dodged a red-bladed claw that sliced at the area where his neck was formerly. On the plus side, he can safely say he is still fairly flexible with how low he bent backward. He still keeps up with his muscle training in the mornings or to pass the time but never really any combat.

Regardless, he was still shaken by the attack.

"Tch," Miltia clicked her tongue. "I missed. Guess I'm a little slow."

"I DON'T THINK YOUR SPEED IS THE ISSUE! YOU NEARLY TOOK MY HEAD OF-OW!" Allen screeched as he felt someone pinch a bit of skin and muscle and twist from behind. A look from the corner of his eye revealed it to be Miltia's twin, Melanie Malachite.

"Maybe you should think twice about commenting on a woman's age, kid."

Allen winced a bit before another realization hit him. "Wait, are you also made because you twins share the same age?"

And he quickly covered his mouth as he realized he just said that out loud. On the bright side, Melanie let go! On the not-so-bright side, both the twins were deadly quiet and their bangs covered their eyes. He needed an escape, and quick as he could feel the seconds click.

As luck would have it, his boss, Junior Xiong, had stepped out from the back of the club. Making eye contact, Allen smiled. "Boss! Can I get a little help?"

Junior looked at Allen curiously, then at the twins, then back at Allen. For a second a look of understanding dawned. "Don't worry kid, I know exactly what to do!"

Allen watched as he went behind the bar... and pulled out a bag of chips before giving Allen a thumbs up. "Good luck! And if you break anything, I'm taking it out of your pay, kid."

The teen in question blinked a few times before bladed claws and stilettos once again made attempts on his life.

(11:45 PM, Streets of Vale's Commercial District)

Allen winced as he rubbed his shoulder a bit. While he managed to avoid getting hurt too badly, the twins ended up tripping, tackling, and then slamming him back first into the floor. And the only reason they didn't decide to make his beating worse was that Allen offered to buy them drinks of their choosing.

After that hassle, he returned to work and tried ignoring the dirty stares the twins gave him or the laughter from Junior as he enjoyed his suffering every time he stretched his shoulder in a bad way.

Suffice to say, he lost pay equivalent to two days of working there. And while he doesn't get paid as much, he mostly keeps it for snacks and groceries while the majority of his pay from working with Tukson during the day was saved up. He couldn't work for Tukson and Junior his whole life, no matter how easy that option felt. For one, Tukson would occasionally come back to the shop looking over his shoulder and tried to hide it with an excuse like 'thought I heard something' or 'fly bussing around'.

Allen wasn't born yesterday. And as for Junior? Well, he wasn't dumb enough to not figure out that he and his damn club were shady. Seriously, everyone with a suit there had a gun holstered and hidden or some bladed weapon under their coats and jackets. Hell, even Melanie and Miltia freaked him out.

He shivered as a soft shaking in his pocket notified him that his Extension had a message. Taking it out, he saw that he had a notification from...

…

Melanie Malachite: 'You talking about us again?'

Allen blinked at the name on the screen, next to a selfie of Melanie. Another message popped up with the image of Miltia next to it.

Miltia: 'Wow Allen. If we didn't know any better, we'd think you were infatuated with us.'

…

'Ok, no.' Allen thought to himself as he opened up the keyboard like Tukson showed and typed away with his right hand. Annoyingly, his left doesn't register on the device since it feels for fingerprints instead of pressure like a regular scroll. His reply popped up next to a question mark icon that took the placeholder for his own lack of a picture instead.

Allen: 'First off, I know that both of you are older than me by nearly a decade so no. Second, how did you even get my number? Or when?'

Breathing heavily, Allen paused as the weight of what he just sent kicked in. Quickly, he completely shut off the device and stuffed it into his pocket before nervously chuckling.

'I'm gonna pay for that tomorrow...'

Sighing, he resumed his way back to the shop when something caught his eye. It was a sight that probably anyone would pass but something he had always enjoyed. It was a simple park, not that major or anything. In fact, very few visited it but that's not why he enjoyed it. During this time of night, the neon lights of different colors that took Allen a while to get used to shone around and illuminated the green leaves on the trees.

The fountain at the center and the benches were almost empty, save for the occasional old retired hunter Allen had the pleasure of talking to once in a while, the occasional night owls, and an artist he's used to seeing as she would paint the fountain and its guests during random days of the week and random times.

This was probably the latest he'd seen her actually. And he soon found himself walking toward the center of the fountain and looking up at the night sky. Countless stars yet none of the constellations matched his own world's. The shattered moon hung ominously yet beautifully to the side as if the rubble could fall upon them anytime yet chose not to. And the peaceful noise of running water from the fountain.

It was a small pleasure, but it made all the difference. As if it promised him a different life from his old one. A realization that he couldn't go back and change things and there wasn't anything to go back to. But it also showed that he could have a new life, any life he wanted. A new, fresh start and chance. Perhaps go to school, study, and work. Do what a normal person does.

…

Normal.

He liked that word. It brought a smile to his face. Unbeknownst to him, the artist would notice his smile at the sky and sneak a picture on her scroll as she added him to her newest piece. It would be years before such a piece would be regarded with high praise but that's a story for another day.