This is a dark, concept-driven story focused on psychological degradation and moral erosion rather than comfort or power fantasy. Some portions were drafted with AI assistance. If you’re looking for fast progression or light escapism, this may not be for you.

  I closed Excel and clocked out of my shift, finally ready to enjoy the long-awaited end of the workday after a painfully drawn-out day at work.

  Like most days, I hurried to the train station, eager to get home as quickly as possible so I could continue reading my beloved fanfictions.

  It’s nice to be able to escape from a 9-to-5 job into another world in the evening.

  I love it.

  There were no free seats left on the train. Extremely disappointing. Reading while standing is far from ideal.

  So instead, I watched a few YouTube videos on my smartphone.

  Not that there were any good videos to choose from, but just enough to avoid having to actively endure the boredom of waiting.

  Finally.

  Out of the train, into the tight press of people on the platform, letting myself be carried minute by minute by the mass of humanity toward the exit.

  I hate people. I hate crowds. I hate having to adapt myself to others.

  Not that I’m an antisocial person—I maintain a few acquaintances and have a good collegial relationship with my coworkers.

  But only as much as absolutely necessary to avoid falling outside the norm.

  I consider friendships a useless waste of time. As if something is more fun just because you do it with others. What nonsense.

  So yes, I suppose I am antisocial after all.

  I like it best when I can do things on my own. It’s simply the most pleasant.

  And there I am at the exit. Just across the main road, and in a few minutes I’ll be home.

  As I crossed the street, something grabbed me from behind. I turned around irritably to see who thought it was okay to just touch me like that. Honestly—who does that? Some people are just sick in the head.

  It was a young man asking me for money for a ticket. I politely said, “No, I don’t have any cash,” and walked toward the street to get away as quickly as possible.

  Some people have nerve. They make mistakes and then expect others to pay for them. Unbelievable.

  A truck was driving along the street in front of me, and I almost walked straight into it.

  Holy shit.

  That was close.

  But you know what we tell Truck-kun?

  Not today.

  After the truck passed, I quickly fled from the strange guy asking for money and made my way home.

  Home sweet home. I opened the front door, took off my jacket and pants, slipped into a comfortable pair of sweatpants, and made myself a sandwich. Food tastes better the less time you waste preparing it. Now just a drink, and I can finally start the evening.

  Or so I thought—because the rum was almost gone.

  I sighed. Long and hard.

  I put my jacket back on, slipped in my shoes, and hurried to the nearest shop to buy cola and rum.

  When I arrived at the station, the strange guy from earlier was still there. I ignored him and entered the kiosk. Grabbed a cola, a bottle of rum, and headed to the counter. I glanced at the magazines—back in the day, I used to buy magazines. That was before the internet.

  It’s a miracle there are still so many of them. No idea what kind of money they survive on. Certainly not mine.

  I paid for my purchase, left the kiosk, and headed home again.

  I waited at the road for passing cars until there was a chance to cross. The fact that there’s no pedestrian crossing here is one of those things you just don’t understand.

  Then suddenly, I was shoved onto the road from behind. I managed to keep my balance and fell onto the asphalt, but not into a car.

  The rum bottle shattered and spilled across the street. It hurt like hell—my hands, which I’d used to break my fall, were burning with pain.

  I looked back and saw the beggar from before running away.

  What an asshole. Ow. My leg is scraped, my arms hurt, but it doesn’t seem like anything worse happened.

  The whole situation felt surreal. I mean, stuff like this only happens in dumb fiction where the protagonist gets thrown in front of Truck-kun to be reincarnated into another world.

  Not that I’d mind—but I’m here, I’m in pain, and there is no reincarnation. It’s fiction.

  I pulled myself together, shouted obscenities after the man, and went back into the kiosk to buy another bottle of rum. Thankfully, the cola survived.

  The clerk asked about my condition, but I said everything was fine, paid for the new bottle, and headed home.

  No one would believe this story if I told it. Whatever. I’ve never really dwelled on the past. I have everything I need now and just want to get home.

  I went straight to the main road and waited for a passing truck. I heard loud footsteps behind me and made a quick sidestep. Beside me, I saw a person run headfirst—with both hands and full force—into the truck.

  He was hit hard. His arms looked very unhealthy. He spun several times, screamed loudly, and then hit the ground.

  “You didn’t expect that, did you? Haha. HAHAHA. HAAHA!!” it burst out of me

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  The man spat blood and screamed angrily, “RARGH,” before collapsing.

  Man. Oh man. That guy is seriously sick in the head. Or rather was.

  The truck driver had turned on his hazard lights, stopped, gotten out, and ran over.

  Completely shocked, he said, “What happened here? That guy ran straight into my truck. This isn’t my fault.”

  I replied, “Quick, get the first aid kit and put him in the recovery position. I’ll call an ambulance.”

  He looked at me briefly, nodded, and went to the driver’s cabin to grab the first aid kit.

  Meanwhile, I took out my phone and dialed… nothing. I started a monologue instead:

  “Yes, there’s been a traffic accident here on Bahnhofstra?e in Stiglitz. A man ran into a truck and was seriously injured.”

  I waited a moment.

  “Yes, exactly there. Yes, we’re providing first aid. Please come as quickly as possible.”

  I spoke extra loudly so the truck driver could hear everything.

  I ended my fake call and told the truck driver—who was now trying to put the man into a stable position—that I had informed emergency services.

  I promised him help was on the way and quickly left the scene.

  Behind my poker face: a twisted Joker smile. Some people should just die.

  On the way home, it suddenly became brighter and brighter, and I heard a faint roaring sound. I looked around but couldn’t locate it.

  It grew louder and louder, and suddenly I saw something red falling rapidly from above, reflected in the windshield of a parked car.

  When I looked up, I saw a meteor.

  It must be a damn big meteor if it hadn’t already burned up in the atmosphere, I thought.

  Within seconds it grew larger and larger. I had severely underestimated its size—this looked like a cataclysmic meteor.

  I started sweating. I opened the rum and took a few swigs.

  It became hot.

  Eyebrow-burning hot.

  I took a few more swigs and—

  —

  When I came to, I was lying on my back.

  I opened my eyes and saw space. Not like usual. I saw stars, nebulae, and suns—far more than I had ever seen before.

  “He’s awake—quick, the table fireworks… teehee,” someone giggled.

  I sat up and looked toward the voice. It was a petite woman wearing a black cloak. Where her face should have been, there was nothing but a black void.

  She knelt down and lit a firework standing on the ground.

  She touched the fuse with her finger, and it began to spark. It was an entirely ordinary firework.

  She clapped her hands and said, “Congratulations. Your death was so absurd, it deserved applause.”

  You’ve got to be kidding me.

  “You made me… chuckle. That doesn’t happen often. So I’ll allow you to transfer your accumulated information over to another person.”

  The firework fountain began spraying sparks.

  “What? I’m supposed to be transferred into another person?”

  “Yes. Souls and all that nonsense—not real. You’re basically the sum of your experiences with a hint of ‘personality.’ Once the impulses in your brain stop, everything’s gone.”

  “Then why am I here and apparently unharmed?” I recalled my final moments. “Is there even anything left of me?”

  “I’m a deity, duh. A personified cheat, to put it in a vocabulary you understand.”

  “So I’m still alive—can’t I just go back to my old life? I mean, this all seems like a lot of effort. I want to go home and read my books.”

  “No. Well, I could—but the rock you call your planet is… well… rather uninhabitable.”

  “Um. Why did this even happen? What problem did that man have with me?”

  “Teehee. To be honest, it was a game of mine. And when you dodged him the second time, I got a little angry and threw something at your planet.”

  “You did what?”

  “What can I say? A mortal insect defied my will. Twice. My emotions got the better of me.”

  I just stared at her, trying to process what she’d said.

  “Anyway. In hindsight, the whole situation was so funny that I burst out laughing. That hasn’t happened in many millennia. So I have a gift for you.”

  “A gift?”

  She smiled wickedly. “Yeees~ I’ll allow you to continue existing and overwrite you into a… entertaining, brave, and committed young woman. Fact is, I lost a bet with her, and the wager was that she wanted to live a different life. That’s your task now.”

  “Task? I thought this was a gift. That sounds more like working for you.”

  As soon as I said that, her hands began to tremble.

  She screamed, “SILENCE, MORTAL! YOU WORTHLESS INSECT! YOU MISERABLE SLIME! HOW DARE YOU QUESTION ME?!”

  As she screamed, I was slammed into the ground. Not just pressed down—it felt like being crushed by a hydraulic press.

  I have never endured so much pain. I wanted to scream, but screaming requires air—something my body currently lacked.

  When she saw me pinned to the ground, she suddenly grinned. Then she laughed. The pressure eased, and I just breathed, trying to regain my senses—far harder than it sounds.

  She laughed again. “You worthless worm. Ahaha. You’re so pathetic.”

  With my head pressed to the ground, I swallowed and said nothing.

  “Exactly!” she cackled. “Now get ready.”

  I swallowed and still didn’t dare speak.

  “Pffht, how boring. Disappoint me and I’ll crush you. Now repeat after me, worm.

  I, V?lycks, offer the embodiment of malice, the destroyer of worlds, the conqueror of gods—Nephorima—my unconditional loyalty, so that my soul shall be bound from its chains forever.”

  I saw the words in my mind’s eye. I swallowed. I really didn’t think it was wise to say this.

  She watched me with a diabolical grin. I felt the pressure increase.

  It grew worse and more painful with every moment.

  “Okay, okay, I give up.

  I, V?lycks, offer the embodiment of malice, the destroyer of worlds, the conqueror of gods—Nephorima—my unconditional loyalty, so that my soul shall be bound from its chains forever.”

  After I spoke the words, the oath burned into my retinas like a thousand needle pricks.

  She laughed.

  “And now go,” she said, waving her hand.

  A portal opened before me, and a shadowy hand violently grabbed me and hurled me into the portal at unimaginable speed.

  As I flew through the portal, I saw a world beneath me. I was far up in the sky—so high there was no air to breathe. I desperately tried to fill my lungs, but it was impossible.

  I fell.

  And fell.

  It grew hotter and hotter. I tried to scream in pain, but only a rasping noise escaped my mouth, drowned out by the roar of the wind. I slowly began to get air again—but air meant resistance, and at my speed, resistance meant burning.

  I gasped for air one last time after I lit up like a candle and then it all went dark