Ryan Aguilera Unsung Hero from Another World Volume 1

[Hi, welcome to my first ever web novel! This story is something I had come in my mind. It may not be in what you normally see in a typical storytelling novel. I admit that this is one of the three what I call a Buildup Chapter before the main story comes into fruition. This story is also in Wattpad in case there will be not a lot of readers. I hope you understand what I am implying to and with that said, lets start the story!]

Chapter One

I leaned closer to the bathroom mirror and stared at my reflection for a few seconds. After a few seconds, I used my right hand to wave it near my face before closing my eyes while having my head looking upwards. For just a few seconds, I deeply inhaled before letting it out as I stared back at the mirror.

I looked at myself once again and contemplated my current state. ”Every day, ” I commented to myself with a bit of misery heard. ”Every day, you are like this. When will you change? ”

All of a sudden that my mind realised that I was in a public bathroom. Honestly, it wasn the nice bathroom I found myself in. It was gloomy. Dirt practically covered most of the room, and that strong sense of urine hit my nostrils like rotten meat thrown from a factory. All of this want to make me want to go out of it.

Without wasting any more time, I exited the filthy, confined bathroom. A calm breeze hit me as I turned to my left side to see the quietness of the city of London.

Many people I had encountered called this city a place of opportunity. Although there was a grain of truth to it, in actuality, there isn .

Where there is a light of happiness and hefty amounts of ways to make a living lies a rot within the city.

Crimes happen every day. It is usually done by those yobs, unsurprisingly. Guess the future potentials of our generation can be a hassle towards the older generation, huh?

I let out a sigh as the current environment helped me to calm down, turning to my left to begin walking to my flat. It isn fancy. Just a two-hundred-square-foot room that I find comfortable. The best part is that it only costs eight hundred pounds per month, which is around most of my monthly salary paying for it. At least I have some to sustain myself. No sound heard. Only the footsteps that echoed in the night of this city caught my attention.

I continued to walk, and many people either passed by me or shouted in my direction. I paid no attention as most were drunkards who were clubbing at night. As the walk continued, the light emitting from the streetlamp was my only guidance back to my place.

If people were walking to their destination, they would have a smartphone to keep them from boredom. Yet, the quietness of the street made me feel solace. It may not have been permanent, but it usually helps me relax from the stress I endure daily.

Arriving at the doorstep of my flat, I fished out my keys from the pocket of my dark green jacket. Eventually, I grabbed the object I needed. Soon, I inserted the key into the door lock, where I twisted it to enter my room. As I stepped into the hallway, I took my brown shoes off and began to walk towards my couch. People who had worked through most of the day would head to their rooms and clean themselves. But I would allow myself to have a little bit of relaxation before heading to bed.

Sitting down on my couch in a calm approach, I let out a tiresome sigh after a long day of making a living. Usually, these days, I would pay no attention to how untidy my flat looked as I was exhausted from my dead-end yet stable job.

It must have felt like a few minutes as I looked to my right to see my guitar leaning on my couch. I did not want to play at it at first. But my mind told me to play a little tune. Grabbing the instrument, I placed it where I sat the instrument on my lap. In an instant, I began playing a familiar song.

It seemed rather joyful to me playing it. If I had to be honest, I had to thank for that video game where the Main Character had received a letter from his wife, who seemingly died three years from a terminal illness.

Something was hitting me as I played my instrument.

What was it?

Did this tune hit me in the head like a small rock?

Why was it so happy for me to even play it?

Did I have a horrible background?

Well, the answer is simple. No. I did not.

I think this is where I should probably introduce myself.

My name is Ryan Aguilera. A Twenty-two-year-old Filipino British who is