Game Over, Start Again
I didn't stop living. I just stopped believing there was a difference between living and waiting.
Life started to become dull. The colours faded away. There was nothing I wished, nothing I loved, nothing I cherished. I was so lost and sunk that I never realised it.
I was so lost, so sunk, without realising that the garden of lovely roses had beautifully withered away. I convinced myself that every flower is bound to wither and die. I was stuck. Lost. I didn't know what I wanted to do.
I couldn't achieve anything in life. It all felt worthless.
I started hating myself. I kept telling myself how talentless and pathetic I was — a piece of shit. Humanity is filthy and greedy, sure. But life? Life is something that co-exists with humankind, and yet, somehow, it remains pure.
Then I hit a wall. My feelings flooded out, and I was left completely empty. The wall cracked. All my emotions perished.
I used to develop a game. My dream game. An endless canvas. A world. A place where no one could build walls.
I never wanted a job. I wanted a paintbrush to colour my canvas.
Finally, I developed a perfect world. A perfect game. A game where I could wake up, hunt monsters, kill them, dominate kingdoms — and so on. I had this childish side inside me, locked deep down. I was just trying to fulfil its fantasies.
But fate never disappoints me. It always gives me hell. This time, it gave me death.
The day I logged in to play —
I died.
That's all I remember about my previous existence.
But in this world?
I feel more alive.
Because the world I'm living in now…
…is the world of my designed game!
This is not a beginning. It's a reminder.
The story starts next chapter