That Day When Suzuki-kun Wasn't the Mob-B!

Within this infinite, sterile white space, four figures sat in a loose circle. There were no walls, no ceiling, and no source of light, yet everything was perfectly illuminated.

The four of them simply stared at each other in a dazed, heavy silence. They were completely in disbelief at the suddenness of this situation. In the beginning, immediately after their respective reincarnations, they had already given up on the idea of possessing a magical cheat. They had quickly become accustomed to the grueling reality of having to work hard from scratch. So, when they were suddenly dragged into this supernatural void and given exactly what they had originally wished for, they were just... a little unsure of how to react.

After all, none of them were living like the legendary protagonist of a light novel. They hadn’t been handed world-breaking swords or limitless wealth.

”Is it... exactly what we think it is?” one of them finally asked, breaking the silence.

”It is,” another replied, rubbing his temples.

”But...”

”What’s wrong?”

”Isn’t this ability a bit... weak?”

The moment they realized they had awakened a unique cheat, their minds had raced with the possibilities of an incredibly easy life. They had expected system menus that granted infinite gold, or the power to instantly obliterate their enemies.

Instead, what they got was a glorified chatroom. The ability to meet their alternate selves across the multiverse. And the harsh reality was that their alternate selves weren’t exactly special, either. Aside from possessing slightly above-average adult intelligence trapped in younger bodies, they were entirely ordinary.

So, what was the actual point of meeting their other selves?

Chatting? Group therapy?

After gaining this new multiversal ability, they didn’t feel any sudden improvements in their physical strength. Their mana pools didn’t suddenly expand. Nothing about their daily reality had fundamentally changed.

Everything was completely, frustratingly normal.

If they wanted a muscular body, they still had to wake up early and work out until they threw up. If they wanted to be smart, they still had to spend hours hunched over textbooks. If they wanted to eat well, they had to learn how to cook!

More importantly, this multiversal meeting room wouldn’t magically deposit a billion dollars into their bank accounts so they could live a wealthy, comfortable life!

”So... what do we do now?” the first figure sighed, leaning back against nothingness.

Unlike a normal, naive child, they possessed the weary minds of adult salarymen. They had been given a second chance, but that only meant they acutely understood exactly how brutally hard it was to earn a living in society.

”Well, we’re still young in our respective worlds,” the second figure reasoned. ”We can just act like normal kids and rely entirely on our parents to fund our growth for now—”

”Wait,” the third figure interrupted, raising a hand. ”I reincarnated as an orphan.”

”...Oh. Sorry.”

”It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

”....”

”DAMN, THIS IS SO AWKWARD!” the fourth figure suddenly shouted, burying his face in his hands.

”Let’s just continue the brainstorming, then,” the first figure coughed, trying to steer the conversation back on track.

”Sure,” the other three echoed in unison.

All of them knew they had to focus. They needed to find a way to exploit this. And they did find one specific feature of their new ability... but it was terrifying.

Sharing.

This was the core function of the white space. However, they couldn’t physically share their magical abilities, their physical strength, or their wealth. They could only share their raw knowledge and memories.

”...Should we do it?” the orphan asked quietly.

”I don’t think so.”

”While it is incredibly tempting to instantly double our knowledge base, let’s not do it.”

”I agree completely.”

Why were they all so violently opposed to using this function?

Because sharing knowledge from their deeply ingrained memories meant sharing absolutely everything. It meant sharing every ounce of embarrassment, every heartbreak, the suffocating sadness, and the visceral trauma of their new lives.

They might have all shared the exact same identity in their previous life—an exhausted, overworked corporate salaryman—but now? Now they were fundamentally different people. They were growing up under vastly different circumstances, shaped by the harsh realities of entirely different universes.

Let’s say one of them lived in a cruel, grimdark fantasy world where he had to slaughter people just to survive another day. If he shared that memory with the version of himself who had reincarnated into a peaceful, modern rom-com world... what would happen?

The psychological whiplash would be catastrophic. More importantly, this sharing ability carried the terrifying risk of ego death. If they shared everything, would they still possess their own individuality?

What if the memories of the one who lived in the blood-soaked world were simply too strong? What if those violent memories violently overwrote and erased the individual personalities of the other three? To merge their minds was to essentially commit suicide of the self.

Zero multiplied by zero is still zero.

”Maybe... we can just use our modern knowledge to become teachers for others?” one suggested.

”Be honest. Are any of us actually that smart?”

”...You’re right.”

They knew their limits perfectly well. Even with their reincarnation, they were never destined to be protagonists. While they weren’t bad at what they did, they were far from exceptional.

Logically speaking, they probably wouldn’t even warrant a mention in the grand overarching plots of the worlds they currently inhabited. They were completely irrelevant to the main story!

Yes, they were the absolute epitome of ”Mob-B” characters!

They weren’t even ”Mob-A” characters—the lucky characters who happen to be standing right behind the protagonist, occasionally offering comedic relief or a helpful sword swing. No, they were the faceless citizens walking in the background of the cafe scene. They were the characters the author didn’t even bother drawing eyes for!

It wasn’t that they were inherently flawed; it was just that they lacked that overwhelming, blinding spark that made someone a main character. They might be slightly above average in appearance, intelligence, and magical aptitude, but it was precisely that well-rounded competence that made them painfully common. They blended perfectly into the crowd.

”But... that’s normal. It’s not like any of us actually want to be deeply involved in the main plot, right?”

”That’s true.”

”It’s vastly better this way.”

”It is so much safer.”

Being tied to the main plot meant fighting world-ending dragons, getting betrayed by royalty, and constantly risking your life. It was exhausting. Given their average abilities, choosing the path of absolute stability was the smartest move. They might not amass the greatest fortune or become the strongest Demon Lords in their respective realms, but they would undoubtedly live long, incredibly comfortable lives in the long run.

However, looking around this sterile white room, they couldn’t help but wonder if there was a way to elevate those comfortable lives just a little bit.

They had all been salarymen. They knew how soul-crushing the adult grind was. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if this cheat could just give them a slightly easier mode? Just enough to avoid the nine-to-five grind?

”How about we just start by introducing ourselves?” the orphan suggested. ”I mean... we know we are all technically the ’same’ person, but let’s talk about our new origins. Let’s discuss the specific worlds we reincarnated into and our new identities. Even if we don’t plan to merge our minds, we can still use our collective brains to analyze each other’s plots and try to steal a few safe advantages.”

It was a brilliant compromise. If they knew the general lore of each other’s worlds, they could brainstorm safe, highly profitable strategies.

More importantly, this white room was the ultimate vault. There were things they could never, ever confess to their new parents, lovers, or friends—secrets about reincarnation, modern technology, or the plot of the world itself. But here? They were talking to themselves. It was an absolute safe space.

Because they existed in entirely separate universes, it was physically impossible for their secrets to ever leak.

In other words, they could use this absolute miracle of the cosmos... to vent!

It might sound incredibly mundane, but for four exhausted men carrying the mental weight of two lifetimes, having a place to drop the mature, calm facade was a godsend.

”I feel like this ability isn’t so bad after all.”

”You’re right. It’s comforting.”

”I actually feel completely liberated.”

”Can we just lie down first, though? I haven’t had a proper rest in weeks.”

”Okay.”

The four of them collapsed onto the invisible floor, staring up into the endless white. They had to admit, ever since they reincarnated, the pressure had been relentless. Because they knew they were only ”above average,” they knew they had to start working twice as hard, and twice as early, just to secure a decent future.

Thomas Edison famously said: ”Genius is one percent inspiration, ninety-nine percent perspiration.”

They had the ninety-nine percent down to a science. But without that golden one percent of divine inspiration or protagonist luck, it was impossible for them to reach the absolute top. The reality was harsh.

If they just stopped and rested forever, who would take care of them? Eventually, they would become burdens. And when their new parents grew old, how would these four ’Mob-B’s afford to take care of the people who had loved and raised them?

Life was tough. They wanted to rest, but the crushing responsibility of their second chance made them sigh helplessly. They couldn’t stop. If they stopped grinding, they would starve.

”Man... I really hope this space eventually unlocks an ability that helps us learn things instantly.”

”Yeah. Or at least something that cuts down the study time.”

”I just don’t want to go to work.”

”Me neither.”

”.....”

The four of them sighed into the void, perfectly synced in their deep, corporate despair.

But just as they bared their deepest, most authentic desires to the empty room, a mechanical chime echoed through the white space.

[Initiating Persona Assessment.]

”Huh?” The four of them sat up instantly, their eyes wide.

The cold, emotionless voice didn’t stop. It resonated from every direction at once.

[Defining the users’ deepest desires, limitations, and latent skills.]

[Assessing the most suitable multiversal skill pathway.]

[Analyzing Group Interactions and shared psychological profiles.]

[Confirmed. The acquisition of the Unique Skill: ”Manager (The Section Chief)” has been successful.]

”...”

”...Did we just get an actual, overpowered, unique ability?”

”I... I think we did.”

A slow, unified grin spread across the four identical faces. It seemed it was still far too early for them to give up on the dream of living an easy, perfectly managed life.