Nelson fell asleep amid his sobs. I had never seen him cry this much in our fifteen-year friendship. ‘I'll let you sleep for now.’

  I began to ponder where we truly were. Not heaven—Nelson’s sin-soaked soul would’ve burst into flames at the gates. Not hell—well, not yet. Purgatory?

  I caressed my cheek, tempted to ask Lady Death, but I never liked depending on God.

  ‘You could ask, Mister Frank. I won’t charge this time~’

  I hesitated. Fearful. Still, I decided to have some faith. What was the worst that could happen?

  ‘Where are we, Lady Death?’

  ‘Who knows~!’ She burst into giggles.

  ‘This little s—’

  Her hand squeezed my heart.

  It fucking hurt. She even synced it with my beats.

  ‘Almighty gri—’

  She squeezed harder. Nausea washed over me, my thoughts turning to fog.

  ‘Fake worship is a no-no~’

  Her voice was cold and honeyed. She behaved like a whimsical child—giggling, playful.

  ‘What do you want from me?!’

  She said nothing.

  ‘You’ll end up killing me!’

  ‘You can’t die here~’

  I held it together, grinding my teeth, refusing to fully bend to her will.

  ‘Aw, you didn’t beg~’ she purred, half-disappointed.

  ‘I only beg to Cristo Rey.’

  ‘We’ll see about that~.’

  She gave one final, crushing squeeze—then let go.

  I sat cross-legged on the floor, breathing deeply, trying to scrub the lingering pain from my chest.

  An hour later, Nelson woke up with a kip-up, scratching his neck awkwardly. He spoke without making eye contact.

  “No time to whine, Frank.”

  ‘Wait a second, that phrasing—’

  “Let’s get out of here, and then you can cry.”

  “Back to the ‘I never cry’ macho man, huh?”

  He ignored me and stretched like a lazy cat that had just lost a life. “Any guesses where we are, Mister Frank?”

  “Mmm… This might be the judgment room.”

  “The judgment room?” he repeated, his tone far too casual. “Makes sense. We’re dead, after all.”

  ‘I can’t see the smugness in your eyes.’ I kept that to myself.

  “Yeah. We just have to wait until whoever’s in charge shows up. Let’s hope it’s not a bitch god… or maybe don’t. Expectations only make it hurt more.”

  “Ask Grimmy if she knows,” Nelson said, like he was telling me to call Juan for directions.

  “She seems too busy with god-stuff to answer,” I replied, holding my chest.

  ‘Liar~’ she cooed.

  “Well, doesn’t matter. I know where I’m headed—heaven! My big-tiddie angel harem’s waiting for me!”

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  “That ain’t happening. You’ll be Luci’s little bitch.”

  “That would be you, mister corpse-looter! I am a being of light—there’s only heaven for me!” Nelson puffed out his chest and filled his lungs, laughing like he’d just won the lottery.

  “Jonathan’s probably on the eighth circle, wooing witches and failing miserably. Go look for him if you’re lonely.”

  ‘And you’ll be in the tenth circle: Luci’s ass.’

  ‘That’s actually a thing, you know~’ Lady Death informed me.

  ‘Thanks, I hate it.’

  ‘Hehe~’

  Nelson kept yapping with an unhinged grin, wriggling his fingers like worms. “Maybe we’re getting isekai’d? I’ll be a hero! Get myself a harem! HAHAHA!”

  “We’ll probably end up enslaved by elves.” I bit down on my lower finger.

  “What’s wrong with elves?” he asked, frowning.

  “What isn’t?” I snapped, glaring at him. “They don’t fool me with their friendly smiles and ‘I only eat fruits and veggies’ bullshit. Their girls are too stacked! They have to be eating some hidden source of protein! Those tree-fuckers are hiding something!”

  My tinfoil rant was too much for Nelson. He shook his head and steered the conversation back, striking an exaggerated sword stance. “Relax, Frank! I’ll carry you through Isekailand! Just pick a healslut or a meat shield—I’ll be the BDD!”

  “Oh, fuck off. I refuse to babysit your dumb ass in the next life! I already did that! I died trying to—”

  Our glorious waste of breath was abruptly cut short by a deep, solemn voice.

  “Oh~” Lady Death let out an amused hum. My gut screamed danger.

  Our judge—or isekai guide—had arrived.

  [Welcome! Welcome to World 17! You have chosen, or been chosen, to be isekai’d to one of our finest remaining game-like worlds…]

  A ghostly figure flickered to life with a menacing hum, its solemn voice echoing through this bizarre place. Unlike ours, this one wasn’t glitched. I turned toward the source.

  A slim man in Roman-style robes stood before us—aged face, a politician’s smile barely hiding the disdain in his eyes. At least two meters tall, with curly, shoulder-length hair and a well-kept bushy beard completing the look.

  My throat went dry as I swallowed hard. The sensation was familiar—the same crushing pressure I’d felt during my first encounter with Lady Death. An overwhelming presence. Imminent danger.

  “Nelson, bow with me,” I whispered. My posthumous encounter with the giggle Goddess had taught me one thing: don’t shitpost superior beings.

  “It is a dreadful thing to fall into the hands of a living god,” I remembered my father saying as he read the Bible to me—right before punishing me for skipping church.

  ‘It’s worse when said god uses your heart as a stress ball, Dad.’

  I put my short-lived melancholy to rest and groveled, trying to appear submissive and humble, even if only outwardly.

  ‘Let this dreadful cunt fuck off soon,’ I prayed to no one.

  Nelson giggled at my display. “Calm down, Frank, he’s just the guide NPC. He can’t harm us.”

  I dared not raise my head, only whispered, “Nelson, don’t! You’ll doom us both! This is no time for being a daft cunt!”

  Nelson stared at the ghostly figure. He nonchalantly hovered his hand over it—then, just before touching it, looked back at me with the biggest shit-eating grin and pressed his palm forward.

  ‘Fuck you. I’ll pretend not to know you if he gets angry.’

  “Oh. It’s a pre-recorded hologram! The fuck?”

  [I thought so much of City 17 that I elected to—]

  The hologram’s speech cut off mid-sentence. It flickered… and vanished.

  “See? Nothi—”

  With a wet pop and a silly yelp, Nelson exploded into a bloody rain of organs and bone shrapnel. His liver slapped my face. I bit my tongue and shut my eyes.

  ‘Look towards Nelson,’ Lady Death commanded.

  ‘Please, no,’ I protested—only to have my heart squeezed and my head forcefully turned by invincible bony hands.

  Time seemed to rewind as Nelson’s flesh and bones dragged themselves back together with grotesque cracking sounds. Once his lungs snapped into place, he released the most haunting howl—one that rattled my ears and shook my very soul. His organs slammed back into position one by one, each sickening squelch making his screams climb higher.

  He kept screaming in terror and pain even after his body was whole again. The deity had stripped away every trace of fake bravado. Pale and trembling like a newborn fawn, his legs buckled, collapsing into a grovel beside me.

  ‘Fuck. I knew it,’ I screamed internally.

  [Irreverence will not be tolerated.]

  Unlike the solemn voice at the start, the warning voice was terrifying—anger and spite dripped from every syllable. For a brief moment, a pressure pinned us to the ground. My skin felt like tightly fitted clothes shrinking in real time. The air solidified, clogging our lungs before it was forcefully ripped out.

  ‘My lady please, stop laughing—it’s not funny.’

  ‘It is for me~!’

  I held back my thoughts of cursing her; I couldn't risk another god being petty. Not now.

  Nelson turned to me. His eyes no longer held grief, bravado, or even confusion—only pure terror.

  It was at that exact moment he realized he’d fucked up.

  “Isekai… bad,” I read from his trembling lips.

  He began to cry silently. This was only the second time I’d ever seen him shed tears. I always thought I’d mock him when it happened—and I would have—if he hadn’t just gotten fucking Cronenberg’d right in front of me.

  The hologram’s face flickered, then seamlessly returned to its recording. The solemn politician’s smile was back, pristine and empty—as if nothing had happened at all.

  We didn’t move, barely breathed.

  [–establish my administration here, in the Realm so thoughtfully provided by the Supreme Father. I've been proud to call World 17 my home. And so, whether you are here to farm, lay low, or grind your way to parts unknown—welcome to World 17. It's unique here.]

  The hologram finished its script.

  ‘Yes, finally—’

  It looped. I could barely hear it over Nelson’s sniffles. It kept going, glitched into an endless chant of “It’s unique here” before shutting off.