The morning sun never came that day.
Only darkness — the kind that crawls under your skin before you even open your eyes.
Lina woke up to her phone vibrating nonstop. Hundreds of notifications stacked like falling dominoes — her classmates, friends, online fans — all saying one thing:
"He's gone."
Her hands shook as she unlocked the screen.
Trending on every platform, in every language:
#RIPJACKIMOCHIENG 💔
Billionaire Philanthropist Dies in Plane Crash en Route to Dubai.
She froze. Her world stopped breathing.
"No… no, no, no—this can't be true," she whispered, her voice breaking. She dropped the phone, covered her mouth, and collapsed on the bed, tears spilling faster than she could wipe them.
Meanwhile, across the city, the same chaos unfolded — in cafés, offices, schools, newsrooms. Every TV played the same footage:
A blurred clip of a private jet exploding mid-air.
A news anchor's solemn voice saying: "Sources confirm Jackim Ochieng was aboard…"
Kelvin burst into the Braggers Foundation headquarters, pale, sweating, half-dressed. He didn't even button his shirt properly.
"Tell me this is a joke!" he yelled, slamming his phone on the table. The staff, crying, looked at him helplessly.
"Sir… the news says—"
"I DON'T CARE WHAT THE NEWS SAYS!" he roared, eyes burning. "That man doesn't die in a plane. Not him!"
But deep inside, fear gnawed his heart. The video looked too real. Flames, smoke, wreckage — everything screamed final.
He slumped into a chair, buried his face in his hands, and whispered, "Bro, if you're playing some movie script right now, I swear I'll kill you when I see you…"
By noon, the internet had gone insane.
Fans were posting old photos, crying, praying.
Some even posted clips from his last livestream — "Don't forget the people who believed in you before the world did."
That line hit everyone like prophecy.
People claimed he knew. They said he felt it coming.
Memes, tributes, conspiracy theories — all flooded in at once. Someone even created a digital candle website in his name, and it hit ten million virtual lights in under two hours.
For once, the world wasn't arguing or trolling. It was mourning.
But somewhere far from the noise — in a quiet, secret villa by the coast — Jackim Ochieng sat cross-legged, eating ugali and fried tilapia, watching the chaos unfold on a projector screen.
He was alive. Very alive.
His bodyguard, Musa, stood behind him with his arms crossed, trying not to laugh. "Boss, they've declared a national day of mourning in three countries already."
Jackim chewed slowly. "Hmm. The fish needs more salt."
"Boss, people think you're dead!"
He nodded, expression calm. "I know."
"Then why are you so calm?!"
"Because sometimes," Jackim said, sipping his juice, "you have to die for the world to see who's real."
The System pinged faintly in his mind.
> System Update: Threat Level: High.
Fake news initiated by The Wheel to destabilize your assets.
Counterintelligence recommended.
Jackim smirked. "So that's their game. Crash my plane on paper so they can steal my empire while everyone cries."
Musa blinked. "You knew this would happen?"
Jackim looked out the window at the sea. "I didn't know. I felt it. When success gets too loud, enemies stop whispering."
He stood, stretched, and grabbed his phone.
"Let them mourn. Let the fake investors move. When they think I'm gone, that's when I'll hit back."
Musa shook his head, smiling. "You're crazy, boss."
Jackim grinned. "Crazy made me rich."
Meanwhile, Lina refused to eat or sleep. She sat by the window all night, staring at the sky, clutching her phone as if his voice might come through somehow.
She replayed every memory — his laughter, his silly jokes, the way he'd lean close when she spoke, like her words actually mattered.
Then she remembered the time he told her, "If I ever disappear, just trust that I'm chasing something bigger."
She whispered through tears, "Is this what you meant, Jackim?"
Her phone buzzed again — this time a private message from an unknown account. The message only said:
"Keep your heart calm. He's not gone."
Lina froze, staring at the screen. "Who are you?"
No reply.
But somehow, her tears stopped.
Three days passed.
The world still mourned.
Every TV station aired documentaries about his life. Old classmates gave interviews, pretending they'd always believed in him. Sandra, dressed in black, cried on camera, saying, "I always knew he was special."
(Which made half the internet roast her instantly.)
The Braggers Foundation stock plummeted 40%. Investors panicked. The Wheel silently celebrated.
That night, in his coastal villa, Jackim finally stood before the mirror. His beard had grown, his eyes were red from lack of sleep — but there was a fire in them, one that no scandal could kill.
He stared at his reflection and whispered, "Time to resurrect."
At exactly 8:00 p.m. the next day, the internet went crazy again.
On every platform, a mysterious livestream popped up titled:
"MESSAGE FROM THE BEYOND 👁️🔥"
People clicked, expecting a hoax.
Then — his face appeared.
Jackim Ochieng, alive. Calm. Smiling faintly. Wearing a black hoodie.
The world screamed.
Chat exploded.
Servers nearly crashed.
"NO WAY HE'S ALIVE!! 😭😭😭"
"What kind of resurrection is this??"
"Jesus walked out of the tomb, Jackim walked out of a jet!"
He leaned closer to the camera. "Hey… I heard rumors I died."
He paused, then chuckled softly. "Sorry to disappoint."
Fans screamed in the chat. Kelvin, watching from HQ, fell off his chair.
"YOU CRAZY MAN!" he yelled at the screen, laughing and crying at once.
Jackim continued, voice steady but emotional.
"I faked a business trip to Dubai. I was supposed to go — but I stayed behind because of security threats. The plane they hacked… wasn't mine."
He sighed. "But when I saw the world mourn, I realized something. People don't cry because you're gone. They cry because they never said what they should've while you were here."
He smiled gently. "So say it now. To your friends, your family. Don't wait for fake news to remind you love is real."
The comment section flooded again.
'Bro made us cry for three days straight
'I took two days off work because of you, man!'
'I donated in your memory and I don't even regret it
'God must've been like, nah, Kenya still needs him.'
Jackim chuckled. "Also — to the hackers who faked my death…" He leaned closer, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "…I'm alive, broke your code, and I'm coming for you."
He smirked. "With lawyers, not bullets."
After the livestream ended, the internet went nuclear.
#JACKIMLIVES trended globally for three days straight.
His foundation's donations tripled overnight.
News anchors apologized live on air.
Even his enemies couldn't believe how gracefully he flipped tragedy into triumph.
The System chimed again, glowing gold:
> System Notification: Mission Complete: "Survive False Death."
Reward: Mass Reputation Boost + System Upgrade to Level 5.
Bonus Unlock: Immortal Reputation (Public Trust Shield Activated).
Jackim exhaled deeply. "Finally."
Musa walked in, grinning. "Boss, you broke the internet again."
"Good," Jackim said, sipping his tea. "Let's remind them that legends don't die — they just reboot."
Later that night, Lina visited him secretly. No cameras, no System glow, no bragging — just two people who'd missed each other beyond words.
She walked in, tears in her eyes, and slapped his chest lightly.
"Do you know how many tears I wasted on you?"
Jackim winced playfully. "About three liters, maybe?"
She glared. "Not funny."
He held her gently. "I'm sorry. I had to disappear to protect the people I love."
Her voice trembled. "You could've at least told me."
He cupped her face, thumb brushing her cheek. "Would you have let me go if I did?"
She said nothing. Just hugged him tight. The kind of hug that said: don't ever scare me like that again.
He smiled softly. "You know, I watched the whole world mourn me. But only one person's tears really hurt."
She looked up at him. "Mine?"
He nodded. "Yours."
Across town, Kelvin organized a "Welcome Back" party — though he accidentally called it "The Funeral Afterparty" on the banner, which made everyone burst out laughing when Jackim walked in alive.
"Bro," Kelvin said, half laughing, half crying, "you owe me a new heart. Mine almost stopped three times."
Jackim hugged him tight. "I'm sorry, bro. You're my family."
Kelvin smirked. "Next time you fake your death, at least send me the memo first."
The night ended with laughter, music, and relief.
But beneath it all, Jackim knew the war wasn't over.
Somewhere out there, The Wheel was still spinning — plotting, watching, waiting.
As he stood on the balcony, city lights glimmering below, the System flickered softly.
System Alert: Final War Approaching. Prepare the Braggers for the storm.
Jackim took a deep breath. "Then let the storm come."
He looked up at the moon, his voice low, calm, certain.
"I've died once. Now it's time to live like a legend."