Reincarnation with AI (Unemployment-Free)

Chapter 82 Going Home

I've been in Roya for a month now.

Perhaps it's time to go home.

To be honest, Rudius wasn't really homesick.

In his previous life, his record of staying at home was eight consecutive months without stepping out of the house.

Finally, my mom dragged me out of the room under the pretext of getting a haircut.

Perhaps because he hadn't seen the sun for eight months, Rudius can still recall the subtle yet fresh feeling he had when the setting sun shone through his long hair that blocked his view.

When I walk with long hair, I feel a pleasant, itchy sensation on my neck, and I haven't seen sunlight filtering through my hair for a long time.

Because I had stayed up all night, I was dragged out of my room before my mom went to work.

Around 6:30 in the morning, it was a little chilly to go out wearing short sleeves.

Rudius did not resist.

I don't resist going out, nor do I resist getting a haircut.

After the old barber on the roadside exclaimed for the fifth time, "You really hit the jackpot," the haircut was finally finished.

He glanced at the long hair on the ground and touched his head.

The long-haired nerd has turned into a buzz cut young man.

"4 yuan received via Alipay".

My mother paid the money and left first.

I strolled home at a leisurely pace.

A shower has made me feel refreshed.

I climbed into bed, snuggled under the covers, and played games for a while longer.

After feeling sleepy, I turned off the computer and went to sleep.

When I woke up, the sun was already setting.

Looking back, if I didn't cut my hair, that record of staying at home would have lasted about eleven months.

Rudeus's parents in his previous life were quite tolerant of him.

However, that's putting it nicely—to put it bluntly, it's just giving them food to eat and then ignoring them.

When I'm in a bad mood, I get annoyed looking at my kids who are just freeloading off me, and then I call them "useless."

However, this is only human nature—it would be strange if people didn't criticize.

Rudeus in his past life had a very strange feeling.

He considers himself a homebody and unlike his classmates, he won't go to big cities to find work; he'd rather make a living in his hometown, a third- or fourth-tier city.

Moreover, the older you get, the simpler your requirements for a job become—close to home.

Rudius even thought it would be great if he could be a security guard in his own neighborhood.

Ideally, commuting time should be zero.

Commuting is a waste of life.

However, while he loves home, Rudius doesn't actually think about going home.

It's amazing.

When Rudius is at home, he doesn't want to leave, but once he leaves home, he doesn't want to go back.

Of course, when it comes to jobs where you have to go out to work every day, Rudius is unconditionally homesick.

This refers to prolonged periods of staying at home versus being away from home.

It's like when you're in school, you live at school for half a year, then go home for two months, and then go back to school for half a year. This feeling is especially strong then.

Back then, whether leaving home or returning home, it seemed like this was the right thing to do, and so we did it.

After living at school for half a year, I returned home and felt a sense of belonging, but two months later I had to leave again. The exhaustion of "having to leave again" and the resistance of "having to go back" are the same thing.

You're not homesick, you're in love with "not having to switch modes".

Switching itself is a form of resource consumption.

Hides the AI's judgment.

Rudius rubbed his forehead.

The thought of going home arose.

Recently, he has been frequently "seeing" his younger self from his past life.

At that time, I was placed in the kindergarten at the welfare home.

As a child from a dual-income family, I was picked up and taken home once a month.

There are many children in the kindergarten, four big trees, and a dilapidated, dusty slide that is placed in the corner as a piece of junk.

Young Rudius stared blankly as the children played.

As far as I can remember, he never spoke.

He watched the moths caught in spider webs under the slide, the caterpillars climbing the trees, and the ants carrying grains of rice on the ground.

Watch the children who are terrified and laughing around the moths, watch the children who grab the caterpillars in their hands and crush them mercilessly, watch the children who throw the grains of rice in their bowls to the ants.

Occasionally, a bright gaze would fall upon him from among the children.

Then he would hurriedly look away.

It's not exactly interesting, but it's not boring either.

All I saw was that group of children collecting caterpillars, putting them in a dug pit, and torturing them to death one by one.

I will feel waves of sadness.

Occasionally, he gets noticed by his favorite girl.

You will feel a surge of joy.

Days passed by like this.

The children were picked up one by one on the afternoon of the weekend.

He sat on the steps and watched.

Watching the teachers and parents exchange pleasantries as they saw the children off one by one.

As the sun set, there were no more children in the courtyard.

The teacher glanced at him and then went back into the gatehouse.

He remained seated on the steps, staring at the small iron gate.

At 8:30 p.m., I sat alone under the dim light.

He wasn't afraid of the empty, dark courtyard. He just sat obediently on the stone steps, calmly watching the entrance, until a black figure appeared behind the small iron gate of the kindergarten.

He couldn't see who it was, nor could he recognize its voice.

The teacher was called out from the gatehouse.

After a brief conversation, the teacher said that was the father.

He didn't say a word.

The shadowy figure took him and placed him on the car seat.

He was taken home on a bicycle.

There were no other lights in the orphanage; once you left the stone steps, it was pitch black.

He didn't know who the dark figure was.

He simply obeyed the instructions quietly.

As the bicycle entered the main road, the familiar street scene appeared in my eyes under the streetlights.

He then asked for the first time, "When I get home, can I turn on the light?"

Back then, the lights in our house were tungsten filament bulbs, which required pulling a light cord.

"Okay," the father replied, the sound carried on the wind.

He leaned happily against his father's back.

The journey home isn't far, probably less than 400 meters.

When he got home, he watched his father park his bicycle and unlock the door with his key.

He followed his father expectantly.

Then he saw his father casually pull the light cord, turn on the tungsten filament lamp, and then continue walking into the house without looking back.

He stood there, stunned, feeling a surge of emotion welling up inside him, and tears streamed down his face.

"Wow!"

He started crying and making a fuss.

The father immediately stopped and hurriedly asked him what was wrong.

He choked up as he pointed at the light cord and said, "I—I want to pull the light cord."

The light cord was too high; his small body couldn't reach it.

The father quickly picked him up and handed him the light cord.

"No! No!" he cried out.

"Then I'll help you put it out."

The father held him in one arm and pulled the light cord to turn off.

The room was plunged into darkness again.

His father handed him the light cord, and he reached out to turn on the tungsten filament lamp again.

"Is it ready?" the father asked, his voice seemingly tinged with impatience.

He did not feel comforted by his father's question.

Her vision, blurred by tears, fell on the light cord in her little hand.

After a brief pause.

The crying didn't stop; instead, it grew even more intense.

The father began to panic. After putting down the keys, he hoisted the boy onto his shoulder and wandered around the house aimlessly, patting the boy's back to comfort him while trying to find something.

The household items, accompanied by the father's voice and comforting words, appeared one by one in the blurry vision.

My field of vision is getting smaller and smaller.

He cried until he passed out.

Memory interruption.

The father is gentle, but he is so busy with work that he forgets he needs to hug his child.

Rudius wiped away the tears from the corner of his eye and murmured, "Not switching states, huh?"

Perhaps deep down, he felt that it would be better to stay under that lamp, waiting to be taken home.

What is home?

Is it that house?

What's so nostalgic about a house?

Rudius felt bewildered—although he could recall everything about that house in his mind.

But when it comes to wanting to go back, I've never actually had that thought.

Rudyus still didn't want to go home, but his body seemed to be uncontrollably drawn towards it.

So Rudius said to himself, "I should go back."

At dawn, when the sky was just beginning to brighten, the city of Roya was still shrouded in darkness.

Rudius dressed neatly, wrapped his mouth, nose, and hair in black cloth, and pushed open the door to walk outside.

Avoiding the maids, they climbed over the wall from the second floor to the roof.

Having already given the necessary greetings, Rudius checked his clothes and, after confirming that everything was alright, slowly ascended into the air.

The morning air was chilly, but fortunately Rudius had already put on thicker clothes.

After leaving the rooftop for a distance, Rudius began to use the Wind Cube to accelerate his ascent.

Looking at the scattered lights in the city of Roya, he made sure he wouldn't attract attention.

After reaching a height of 100 meters, Rudius looked in the direction from which the sunlight was coming—the sun had not yet risen.

"Let's hurry up and get out of the skies above Roya City," Rudeus thought.

Even from such a high position, Rudius's figure was difficult to spot.

Having identified the direction, Rudeus activated his wind magic and flew towards the village of Buena.

Logically, it should be colder at a height of 100 meters than on the ground.

But Rudius did not feel a significant temperature difference.

They flew quickly out of Roya City.

In the dim light, Rudius saw that the wheat field seemed to be covered by a layer of milky white stuff. Was it moisture?

The moisture content is very high near the ground.

Perhaps I haven't flown high enough.

With a thought in mind, Rudius increased his altitude once again.

It didn't take much effort to feel noticeably drier.

The wind carried away the moisture from my skin, and my breathing became refreshing.

From this perspective, flying higher might actually make it warmer.

Rudius looked down again and saw a dividing line not far below his feet.

The ground was shrouded in a thin mist.

The fog that just covered the wheat field was much thicker than this thin fog.

It's probably because plants themselves are richer in water.

With that thought in mind, Rudius began to increase his flight speed.

Most of the pedestrians were obscured by the fog, their outlines lost to the mist.

Only a small, faint, flickering orange light hinted to Rudius that someone was there.

It could be a torch, a lantern, or even a kerosene lamp carried by an early-rising farmer.

Even if they looked up and searched carefully, they wouldn't be able to find Rudius.

After flying a distance further, even the flames on the ground disappeared.

Presumably, the sky is gradually brightening, and there is no need to waste any more precious fuel.

Rudius flew faster and faster, his robes fluttering in the wind, until the strong winds became unbearable for his eyes, at which point he slowly slowed down.

This is the first time I've ever flown so high and so fast.

Rudius showed no hesitation or doubt whatsoever.

Rudius rubbed his eyes and wondered if he should get some goggles.

Can wind magic ward off strong winds?

Rudius stretched out his hand, attempting to conjure a high-pressure gas cloud in front of his face as a shield.

Sure enough, the airflow deflected to both sides after colliding with the high-pressure mass.

Although the clothes were still rustling in the wind, you could no longer feel the wind on your face.

Rudius accelerated again, feeling the high-pressure air mass in his hand being blown away and torn apart; this method was not as effective as he had imagined.

Moreover, Rudius also felt that his acceleration was becoming more difficult.

The high-pressure air mass in front of him was clearly pushing him in the opposite direction.

But increasing mana consumption and spell slots for comfort doesn't seem like a worthwhile trade-off.

Rudeus stopped the wind magic on his feet and changed from a prone position to a standing position.

Losing momentum, Rudius's speed decreased sharply, and he slowly came to a stop in the air.

The magic I just used was a pressure-reducing flight magic, combined with wind magic released from my feet to propel me forward.

The whole person was flying in the sky like a jet plane.

Rudius stopped at this point to adopt a different mode of flight.

Actually, decompression flight, like a hydrogen balloon, has one advantage.

That is, the hot air balloon itself is relatively stationary with respect to the surrounding air; it is actually "floating" in the fluid air.

Therefore, people cannot feel the wind when hovering or ascending at a constant speed.

Rudeus was quite cautious when he first started using flight magic.

It dared not violently eject high-pressure airflow to propel itself away.

It simply alters the air pressure distribution of the flight magic.

It's like being wrapped in a giant negative pressure balloon; if you want to move in a certain direction, you reduce the air pressure at that location.

At this moment, Rudius stood in the sky, beginning to lower the air pressure in front of him and increase the air pressure behind him.

Create a uniform pressure gradient inside this magical "giant balloon".

Rudius began to gradually accelerate.

It was like a heavy steam train, which, under the action of the drive shaft, slowly and evenly accelerated.

The acceleration process wasn't exactly slow; it was as if the steam train was already speeding along when you least expected it.

There's no push-back feeling.

A smooth, gradual acceleration actually makes people less sensitive to the speed increase.

Rudius's flight speed increased rapidly, and soon reached terminal speed, where it stopped accelerating and entered a constant speed cruise state.

It should be the resistance of the air itself.

You can feel the friction between the magical energy cloud and the still air outside.

Ignoring those things, Rudeus stretched out his hand and looked around.

Quiet.

Even when moving at high speed, because it was moving in sync with the magical energy, it could not feel the slightest breeze or movement.

It's more like wearing silent headphones.

Rudius put his hands behind his back.

elegant.

There are no strong winds, and no need to adjust your posture to reduce wind resistance.

Just stand there, watching the earth shift beneath your feet.

So elegant.

It has a kind of commanding beauty.

The sky changed from grayish-white to pale white, then to light pink, with a thin layer of bluish-green like egg white at the edge.

The fog began to take shape; it was no longer a single, continuous sheet.

It was scattered and fragmented; in some places it was thin, revealing the dark green of the wheat field; in other places it was still thick, piled up in low-lying areas, like waterlogged areas.

Looking at the scenery, Rudius put his hands behind his back and relaxed for a while. Then, he seemed to hear the sound of a saxophone going home.

I smiled helplessly and sat down cross-legged—if you can call it sitting if there's nothing under your butt.

Feeling the negative pressure zone ahead, Rudius smiled again, feeling like a donkey with a carrot dangling in front of it that it could never catch up with.

The sun appeared on the horizon, and its light slowly enveloped Rudius.

By the way, the jobless world looks like a die.

However, since the sun had already risen, it was about time to get home—Rudius had done a quick calculation of the time before setting off.

As my gaze shifted downwards, familiar scenery began to come into view.

We've arrived at the village of Buena.

Rudius slowed down and began to descend.

He removed the black cloth covering his hair, mouth, and nose, and tidied his hair a little.

Then we arrived at the gate of the courtyard.

As Caravaggio entered the courtyard, he snorted, attracting Rudius's attention.

"You bastard—" Rudius's thoughts were interrupted. Helplessly, he walked over to Caravaggio and scratched the guy's face first.

Caravaggio clearly recognized Rudius as well, sniffing his scent while tugging at his clothes with his horse's snout.

The sound of the door opening and closing rang out, and Rudius turned his head to see Paul walking out of the door.

Turning around and closing the door, Paul looked up at the stable and froze upon seeing Rudius.

After a few seconds of hesitation.

Paul reopened the door, which was half-closed, and called out loudly into the room, "Honey, guess who's back!"

After speaking, he closed the door slightly and looked at Rudeus.

Rudius chuckled and patted Caravaggio's horse-like face before walking toward Paolo.

As I got closer to Paul, who was grinning mischievously, and was about to greet him, I seemed to hear footsteps coming from inside the room.

Senis's face appeared from behind the door.

"ah!"

The melodious cry, brimming with joy, made Rudius squint.

Senis rushed to Rudeus, hugged him tightly, and jumped up and down happily: "Rude! My dearest Rude is back!"

Senis kissed Rudius on the cheek, looked into his eyes, and asked, "Did you miss your mother?"

"Yes, I really want to," Rudius replied with a kiss.

"What about Daddy? Do you miss Daddy?" Paul asked, hugging her without her noticing.

Caught between the two, Rudius kissed Paul and replied, "I want to too."

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