When I open my eyes, I'm not on the street.
I'm not anywhere that makes sense.
I'm standing on clouds.
Actual fucking clouds. White, fluffy, soft-looking things stretching out in every direction like I'm in some kind of heaven cliché. The sky above is a perfect, impossible blue. There's no sun, but everything is bathed in this warm, golden light that seems to come from nowhere and everywhere at once.
I look down at my feet. I'm standing on a cloud. It should be sinking, or I should be falling through it, but it's solid. Firm. Like standing on marble.
"What the fuck," I say out loud.
"You died."
I spin around.
There's a woman standing a few feet away from me.
And she's... she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
Taller than any woman I've met—maybe six feet or more.
Long silver hair that flows down past her waist, moving in a breeze that doesn't exist.
Her face is perfect in a way that doesn't seem human—high cheekbones, full lips, flawless porcelain skin.
But it's her eyes that really get me.
They're gold.
Actual metallic gold, glowing faintly, looking at me with an intensity that makes my breath catch.
She's wearing white robes that somehow manage to be both elegant and incredibly revealing.
The fabric is sheer in places, clinging to curves that would make any man lose his mind.
The neckline plunges low, showing off breasts that are large, full, and perfect. The robes split at her hips, revealing long, flawless legs.
I'm staring. I can't help it.
But something's wrong. Despite how hot she is, despite the fact that I should be getting excited right now, I feel... nothing. No physical reaction. Just a cold dread in the pit of my stomach.
"I..." I start, then stop. My voice sounds strange. Distant. "What happened to me?"
"You died," she repeats, her voice melodic but cold. "A truck accident. Very cliché, I know."
The memory comes back. The street. Luna—my character Luna—standing there impossibly real. The horn. The impact.
"I'm dead," I say. It's not a question.
"You were," she says. "I saved you."
I blink. "Saved me?"
"Your soul was about to be sent back to Earth," she says, waving her hand dismissively.
"Reincarnated as an ant, probably. Maybe a cockroach. That's what happens to people like you—mediocre lives, mediocre karma. I intervened."
An ant. I was going to be reincarnated as a fucking ant.
"Thank you," I say automatically, even though nothing about this feels right. "But... why? Why would you do that?"
She smiles. It doesn't reach her eyes.
"You played my game."
My blood runs cold.
"The game," I say slowly. "That isekai game. That was... yours?"
"Indeed," she says, stepping closer. "I sent it out into your world. Scattered it across your internet. A test, of sorts. To find someone worthy."
"Worthy," I repeat. "I died five times. I failed every single attempt."
"Yes," she says. "But you're the first person to actually die in your world after playing my game. Most people give up. Delete it. Forget about it. But you..." Her golden eyes gleam. "You played until the very end. All five lives. And then you died shortly after. Lucky timing, really."
Lucky. Right.
"So what?" I say, my voice coming out harsher than I intended. "You brought me here to... what? Play again?"
"Precisely," she says, and there's something almost pleased in her tone. "I'm giving you a chance to reincarnate in my world. To play the game for real."
I laugh. It's a bitter, slightly hysterical sound.
"Are you insane?" I say. "That game was brutal. I died to a rabbit. A fucking rabbit. You want me to do that in real life? I'll die in the first five minutes."
"Perhaps," she says, unbothered. "That's why I'm giving you the same advantage as before. Five lives. But this time, per mission."
I stop. "Five lives? Like in the game?"
"Yes," she says. "Five chances to complete each mission. If you die, you respawn and try again."
That sounds... better than I expected. Not good, but better. Five tries means I might actually have a shot at—
"But," she adds, and my stomach drops.
There it is. The catch.
"But what?" I ask.
"Every time you die," she says, her smile widening, "you lose something."
"Lose something?" I repeat. "Like... money? Items?"
"No," she says, and there's something cruel in her golden eyes now. "Something more... permanent. It might be your heart. Or your brain. Perhaps your sense of touch. Your sense of smell. Your ability to feel pain. Your memories. Your emotions." She tilts her head. "Anything, really. I haven't decided yet."
I stare at her.
"You're joking," I say.
"I'm not."
"So you're telling me," I say slowly, "that every time I die, you'll just... take a piece of me? Randomly?"
"Not randomly," she says. "I'll choose what's most... interesting. Most fitting."
"And what happens after five deaths?" I ask, even though I already know I won't like the answer.
"After the fifth death in a mission," she says, "you'll be driven to madness. You'll lose yourself completely. And you'll live in my world like that—broken, hollow, insane. Dead or alive, it won't matter. You'll simply... exist."
I feel sick.
"That's not a game," I say. "That's torture."
"It's an opportunity," she corrects. "Most souls don't get a second chance. You should be grateful."
"Grateful," I say flatly. "Right."
I take a step back. This is insane. This woman—this thing—is completely insane. There's no way I'm agreeing to this.
"No," I say firmly. "Absolutely not. I'd rather be reincarnated as an ant."
She doesn't move. Doesn't react. Just keeps smiling that cold smile.
"I thought you might say that," she says. "Which is why I'm prepared to offer you a reward."
"A reward," I repeat skeptically.
"If you complete a mission," she says, stepping closer, "I will give you anything you want. Once per mission."
"Anything?" I say. "Like what?"
Her smile changes. Becomes something else. Something that makes heat flood through me despite the fear.
She reaches up with one hand, fingers trailing along the neckline of her robes. She pulls the fabric down slightly, revealing more of her cleavage.
"I know what you think about, Kaito," she says, her voice dropping lower. "I know what you want. What you fantasize about when you're alone in your room."
My face burns.
"I can give you anything," she continues. "A blowjob. You can suck my breasts. A handjob. Sex itself. Any position you've imagined. Any roleplay you've dreamed of." Her golden eyes lock onto mine. "Anything from your deepest, darkest fantasies."
I'm hard.
I'm actually hard, and I hate myself for it.