Chapter 57
Written by Bayzo Albion
The rooms in Paradise were nothing short of mesmerizing—each one a self-contained universe, brimming with its own unique flair and ambiance. Some evoked the grandeur of opulent throne rooms, dripping with gold and velvet; others whispered of intimate Eastern alcoves, scented with incense and shrouded in silken drapes; and a few seemed plucked from the fevered dreams of a mad architect, all twisting spires and impossible geometries that toyed with the senses.
I finally settled on a spacious suite that felt like a perfect escape: a sleek bar stocked with shimmering bottles, a bubbling jacuzzi promising relaxation, and a massive two-meter holographic screen dominating one wall. It flickered to life with profiles of available companions, their images glowing like ethereal invitations. Sinking into the plush leather couch, I began my leisurely perusal, scrolling through the options with a mix of anticipation and pickiness.
"Nah, this one's too flashy... Next. Oh, she reminds me way too much of my mother-in-law—hard pass. That enigmatic stare? What's she plotting? Too skinny—not my vibe. Overly curvaceous? Nope, not that either. Damn, this one's almost perfect... but that mole... no, swipe left. Next! Next!"
Fifteen minutes ticked by in a blur of dismissals. I flicked through the holographic parade until the screen dimmed abruptly, displaying a curt message: No more options available.
"What the hell is wrong with these women?!" I burst out, frustration bubbling up like steam from a pressure cooker.
A deep sigh escaped me, unbidden and heavy. "Ha... what are we even doing here? Is this endless chase for pleasure all there is? No greater purpose?"
My doppelganger— that sly mirror image of myself—tilted his head with a wicked grin. "What did you expect, brother? Already bored of the feast?"
"No, it's just..."
"Trust me," he interrupted, his eyes gleaming with that familiar madness, "this cycle is eternal. Our hunger is like the Phoenix—rising from the ashes time and again. But isn't that the beauty of immortality? Forever pursuing what can never truly satisfy..."
How could I have forgotten? The thought hit me like a thunderbolt. My fingers gripped the armrests, knuckles whitening. How had I let slip the brutal truth—that the cruel grind of reality had long ago crushed my childhood dreams, turning a vibrant world into a monotonous gray sludge?
I remembered it vividly now: as a kid, I'd been convinced cigarettes were pure magic. In my naive imagination, that cool, minty smoke would tickle my lungs like a gentle breeze, granting feelings of lightness, freedom, even flight. They were the key to adulthood, a forbidden allure I daydreamed about endlessly. But when I finally sneaked one behind the garages, the reality was a bitter letdown—a harsh, acrid puff that spun my head and left a foul aftertaste clinging to my tongue like regret.
"But this is Paradise now!" The realization sparked like a match in the dark.
I snapped my fingers with decisive flair.
> System: God Mode Activated
> Generating Magical Smoke...
> Core Components: Sweet Mint + Synthesized Sensory Delights
> Eliminating Negative Effects...
> Production of "Beneficial Cigarettes" Initiated
"There it is..." I whispered, a thrill of creation coursing through me. "My own brand of magic."
My doppelganger cleared his throat, eyeing my handiwork with amusement. "You're a real nutjob, bro. Out of all the godlike powers at your disposal, the first thing you whip up is cigarettes?"
I flashed him a grin. "Every god builds their heaven their way."
Before me materialized an elegant silver cigarette, emitting a soft, bluish glow. It looked less like something to smoke and more like a work of art, begging to be admired under the light.
"Health-boosting cigarettes?" my doppelganger mused, cocking his head. "If the smoke's magical, it can't hurt... After all, we're in Paradise."
"At least there should be some perks," I chuckled, drawing in the first puff.
A wave of minty coolness flooded my lungs, then rippled outward in soothing tides, enveloping my entire body. My head spun, but not from toxins—from a buoyant euphoria that lifted me like helium. A notification shimmered into view:
> Effect: +15% Mana Regeneration
> Duration: 1 Minute
"In your old life, you never drank or smoked," my doppelganger reminded me, studying me with genuine curiosity. "Decided to make up for lost time now?"
"Exactly," I smirked, exhaling perfect rings of smoke that danced in the air. "When you're immortal, why not experiment?"
"Hand one over—let me try this miracle," he said, extending his palm.
With another snap, a full pack appeared. I tossed it to him, adding with mock sternness, "Here. But don't overdo it. Though... who am I kidding?"
We lounged there, wreathed in fragrant clouds, as the sun dipped low outside the window, painting the sky in molten gold and fiery crimson. In that serene moment, it dawned on me: this was true pleasure—harmless, consequence-free, just the pure joy of indulging in life's little vices, now sanitized and elevated in this divine realm.
> System: New Item Created – "Cigarettes of Divine Bliss"
> Added to Inventory: 98 Units
"And yet..." I murmured, twirling the silver stick between my fingers, "cigarettes deserve proper packaging. Something beautiful. Stylish."
My doppelganger perked up, eyes sparkling. "You mean we're diving into a godly design project now?"
"Absolutely," I replied with a sly smile. "Even the small things warrant grandeur."
In my palms, a pack coalesced from turquoise metal, its surface shimmering like frost-kissed glass. Delicate silver filigrees etched across it, evoking fragile winter crystals—elegant, unmarred by warnings or drab labels. Just pure, audacious simplicity.
A soft click, and the lid sprang open with a satisfying haptic buzz. This wasn't mere storage; it was a pocket-sized masterpiece, the kind you'd fiddle with endlessly, savoring the flawless mechanics.
I slid out a cigarette with a fluid motion—it practically leaped into my hand, nestling perfectly. Bringing it to my lips, I ignited it with a sleek metal lighter that flared under the chandelier's glow. The first plume of minty smoke caressed my lungs.
The sensation was... transcendent. No choking haze, but a chilled nectar gliding through my airways. It didn't burn; it refreshed, like a crisp gust of arctic wind cutting through summer's swelter. I felt the magical chill seep into my veins, cooling my heated blood and sharpening my thoughts to razor clarity.
"Intriguing," I exhaled, watching the smoke ring dissolve into sparkling snowflakes, "do meditating monks even touch this level of serenity?"
My doppelganger nodded approvingly, taking a drag of his own. "See? Coming here wasn't a waste."
The absence of any lingering odor kept everything pristine—no traces, just a crystalline freshness akin to mountain dawn air.
"That's it," I declared firmly. "The inner child must thrive. Without it, the world fades to monochrome."
> System: Effect Amplified – +10% Inspiration, +5% Resistance to Despair
After one final puff, wisdom tempered my indulgence. Sure, I could smoke eternally, day in and day out, but I imposed my own boundary: "sufficiency."
Exactly one hour, one pack—that was the sweet spot. Enough to:
- Savor the ritual without obsession.
- Extract peak enjoyment.
- Maintain bodily lightness and mental acuity.
The smoke dissipated, leaving only a faint trail of invigorating coolness and a contented smile on my lips. This was the ultimate ceremony—every detail engineered for bliss, sans fallout.
> Interface: Art of Indulgence Mastered at 75%
> Achievement Unlocked: Connoisseur of Refined Pleasures
Tapping my fingers on the table, I refocused. "Alright, back to the ladies."
I tugged the crimson bell cord, eliciting a melodious chime. Precisely one minute later—impeccable timing—a administrator materialized: a man in his fifties with ramrod posture, an immaculate tailcoat, and eyes that flattered while subtly appraising.
"How may I assist, esteemed guest?" His voice was velvet-smooth, like aged cognac.
I paused dramatically, leaning against the bar. "I've browsed your catalog... and frankly, none of the ladies caught my eye."
A flicker of disappointment crossed his face, subtle as a hairline fracture on fine crystal. "Regrettably, I cannot assist further in that case."
I smirked faintly, tapping the bulging pouch of gold on the table. "Cannot? Though... there are two exceptions. Those twin guardians at the entrance. Might they join me?"
He froze, statue-still, save for a tremor in his eyelids betraying inner turmoil.
"No rush on the answer," I said condescendingly. "Consult your superiors. I'll wait."
With a flawless bow, he vanished. Five minutes later—again, that eerie precision—he returned, eyes averted, shaking his head almost imperceptibly.
"Well then..." I rose with a flourish, brushing imaginary lint from my sleeve. "Not my lucky day, it seems."
I gathered my gold pouch calmly—no tantrums, no grudges, just business. But inwardly, resolve hardened: if the front door was barred, I'd find a back entrance.
As I strode toward the exit, I cast a final glance at Paradise's lavish halls. The chandeliers gleamed brilliantly, masking the shadows beneath. Yet those shadows lurked—I sensed them prickling my skin. And somewhere in their depths hid the key.
"We'll meet again, beauties..." The thought ignited a thrill far fiercer than any gamble.
Outside, the scene shifted abruptly: sidewalks littered with dozens of cigarette butts, wisps of smoke still curling lazily skyward.
"I created these just hours ago," I marveled, staring in disbelief. "Where did all this trash come from?!"
My doppelganger snorted, kicking a nearby stub with his boot. "Welcome to reality, even the divine kind. Give people a gift of pleasure, and they turn heaven into a dump."
"So these are the drawbacks of my power?" I frowned.
"Downsides," he agreed. "You can craft miracles, but you can't force respect for them."
"This Paradise baffles me..." I said slowly, gazing at the neon pulses. "Who built it? Future humans, weary of suffering, crafting an illusory haven for ancestral souls to find fleeting peace?..."
My doppelganger tilted his head, smirking. "Or it's someone's twisted prank. Imagine: they hand you heaven, but it's fake. Everything functions, sparkles, delights... but beyond the facade? Void."
"A pseudo-paradise," I nodded, clenching my fist. "A glossy veneer concealing greed, control, or sheer boredom."