Chapter 1: The Cracked Walls

Ainz had always known the contours of his childhood home. The creaky wooden floors, the faint smell of old furniture, the way the walls sagged with age—it was a house that had borne witness to the quiet rhythm of his family's life. It wasn't much, but it was theirs.

A modest, three-room cottage in the heart of a small town where everyone knew each other's name. There was a simplicity to their existence that Ainz had grown to appreciate.

The house wasn't grand, but it was steady.

A place to return to, day after day. The windows, although cracked in places, let in the warmth of the sun, and the faded paint on the walls had the kind of charm that only time could give.

His mother, Maria, spent long hours sewing clothes for the town's residents. Her fingers, though calloused and stiff, danced expertly over the fabric, each stitch a reminder of the countless hours she put into making ends meet.

His father, Ravindra, worked at the local factory, a job that drained him physically.

The nights he returned home were silent ones, his shoulders slumped, eyes tired, as if the weight of the day was more than his body could bear. But there was never any complaint. They had a rhythm, a way of surviving in a world that didn't always make sense.

Ainz had always admired their resilience. Their home, though humble, was a sanctuary of sorts, a place that gave them a sense of belonging. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough. He never questioned their struggles, not until the day it all began to unravel.

It started with small things—the late-night conversations, his parents' hushed voices as they spoke of bills they couldn't pay, of food that had grown scarce, of opportunities that had slipped through their fingers. The stability they had fought for was slipping away, bit by bit. The factory where his father worked had closed, and with it, their source of income. The debts piled up, the cost of living soared, and the dream of keeping their home grew more distant with each passing day.

Then came the decision.

"We need to move to the city," his father had said one evening, his voice tinged with an exhaustion Ainz had never heard before.

His mother had nodded in agreement, her face drawn and weary.

The city, with its promise of work, of opportunity, of a future that their small town could never provide, seemed like the only choice. They had no other option. The small house they had built their life in—Ainz's life—would have to be left behind.

It was a decision made out of desperation, one that came with the hope that a new beginning would offer a way out of the struggle.

Ainz understood this, though it did nothing to ease the knot that twisted in his stomach. He had always known his parents' sacrifices, but now, their dreams for him were becoming burdens of their own. The city represented a new chapter, but it also meant leaving behind everything that had shaped his childhood.

The moving process was swift. They sold what little they had, packed the essentials, and left behind the familiar scent of their small home.

The trip to the city felt like a blur to Ainz—everything was too fast, too unfamiliar.

When they arrived in the new city, it felt like they were walking into a different world altogether. The streets were wide and bustling, the buildings towering high above, and the people moved with a purpose he couldn't understand.

Nothing about the city felt like home. It felt like a place that would chew you up and spit you out if you weren't careful.

Their new apartment was cramped—small rooms that felt suffocating, with peeling paint and a view of a busy street where the noise never stopped.

It was a far cry from the small but cozy house they had left behind. The walls here felt cold, like they were already resigned to the lives of those who had no choice but to live within them.

Despite the heaviness in his chest, Ainz's parents seemed optimistic. They spoke of new opportunities, of a better life for him, of how this move would give him the future they had always wanted for him.

They enrolled him in a good school, one with a reputation for excellence. To them, this was the answer. But for Ainz, it was another layer of uncertainty, another weight on his shoulders. The city was vast, its people unfamiliar, and the promise of a better future seemed distant, out of reach.

The house in the town was gone, replaced by this stark, cold apartment in the city. But Ainz didn't know how to feel about it.

The quiet security of the town was slipping through his fingers, and in its place was a new life, one that came with the promise of more but also the fear of the unknown. For Ainz, there was no excitement in this new beginning. There was only the growing realization that everything—his life, his family, their hopes—was changing in ways he couldn't yet understand.

And deep down, Ainz couldn't shake the feeling that this move, this new life in the city, was not a fresh start. It was just a different kind of struggle.