Death has been a relentless pain in the flesh. No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try to survive her twisted games, she always seems to have the last laugh. But this time, things were supposed to be different. I had lived as Aerion, and I knew he had stashed away some serious money—only known to me. This time, it was certain I would win.
Yes, it might sound like another story full of false hope, but I had convinced myself this round would be different. I had never believed Death meant every single word she said. I thought she just said those things to scare the hell out of me. But every reincarnation proved me wrong. With each new life, the situation worsened.
First, it was the promising CEO, killed before he even had a chance to plot his survival. Then came the reckless athlete who lived for danger—diving from insane heights—until one day he dove headfirst into the ground and broke his own neck. After him came Sharif: a determined, hopeful soul whose life was snatched away by the very bully he had finally stood up to. I thought living as Aerion would be the end of it all. But that... that was just the beginning. Just like Death had promised.
And now? I've been reincarnated as a prisoner. Can you imagine? Of all things, a damn prisoner. Honestly, I would have preferred being homeless to this. When I opened my eyes in that cold, pitch-black dungeon cell, I was paralyzed by the horror of where I'd landed this time.
"What the hell kind of situation is this?" I muttered, sitting up.
"Why am I here? And what about the money? Am I going crazy or something?"
I had no answers. Just this cold, damp darkness pressing down on me like a curse. The orb hadn't filled me with the memories or abilities of this new body yet, so I had no idea who I was or what I had done to land here. But it felt wrong. It felt off. I could barely grasp the fact that this was real. That I was living someone else's life again.
The more I thought about it, the more aggressive I became. I started banging on the walls, kicking the metal door, and shouting like a lunatic—just to confirm I wasn't dreaming.
"Shut up!" a guard barked from outside.
His voice slapped the truth into me. This wasn't a dream. It was my new reality.
"How long have I been here?" I asked as he opened the door.
The guard didn't say a word. He just gave me a mean look and motioned for me to come out.
"Am I being freed?" I asked, hope and disbelief mixing in my voice.
He sneered. "Freed? Why the hell would I free you, idiot? I'm taking you back to your cell."
My hope died immediately.
"So... I was here for deviant behavior," I mumbled. "What did this guy even do?"
The guard didn't answer.
"Put on your shoes and follow me," he ordered. "Unless you want another visit to the dungeon."
Not wanting to attract more trouble, I slipped on my shoes and bowed slightly before following him. Something about this body didn't feel like someone who should be in prison. He seemed calm, young—even innocent. Not the type to stir chaos. Until the orb gave me more answers, I had no choice but to be obedient and keep a low profile.
As we walked through the prison yard, I took in the environment. Rusted fences, pale inmates, heavy boots echoing on concrete. This was a new level of hell. Other inmates were out in the yard, either playing or pretending to breathe fresh air. Out of nowhere, a heavy piece of metal clanged against the fence right next to me.
"What the hell was that for?" I snapped, turning toward the direction it came from.
About six inmates stared at me, silent but intimidating. They didn't answer. They just watched me with cold, dangerous eyes as I walked past.
"If I'm going back to my cell," I thought nervously, "that means I've got cellmates. Damn, I'm a bit scared."
We reached the cell.
"Go inside," the guard said as he opened the door.
I removed my shoes and stepped in. Inside, a man seated against the far wall gave me a strange look.
"You're back?" he said, his voice dry and cautious.
His expression said it all—like we'd had beef before I was sent to the dungeon. My stomach tightened with unease. I needed those memories. I needed to know what had gone down.
Then, a younger inmate approached me with a calm smile and spoke with surprising respect.
"Welcome back," he said.
"Thanks," I replied awkwardly. "Uh… where am I supposed to sit?"
His eyes widened. "You serious?"
He led me to a corner of the cell and showed me a shelf packed with books.
"Nothing's been moved. Everything's just as you left it," he said.
So, this body—this prisoner—liked to read. Great. But that wasn't the pressing issue right now.
"By any chance, do you know when I'm getting out of here?" I asked, hopeful.
"How could you forget that?" he asked, confused. "We're both getting released in three days."
Bingo. Finally, some good news.
"You should really try to control your temper until then," he added. "What if that psychopath ends up killing you for real?"
That word—psychopath—sent a chill down my spine.
"Wait... I fought a psychopathic murderer?" I asked.
He nodded. "He almost killed you."
I scanned the cell. Across from me was another shelf—this one stacked with books about psychopaths, narcissism, and criminal behavior. The walls were plastered with disturbing posters and images. A tight knot formed in my throat.
Then the cell door opened.
Things just got a whole lot creepier.
I backed up slowly, pressing against the wall as a shadow entered the room. Everyone froze. They rushed to fix their spaces, picked up his shoes, and moved aside as though royalty had arrived.
My eyes widened in disbelief.
It was Josh.
Josh. The same damn bully who killed Sharif. The lunatic I had once tried to protect someone from. He was here, in the same cell as me—and just like before, everyone was terrified of him.
"You're back," Josh said with a smirk. "See? You should've controlled your temper."
He laughed like it was all a joke.
He didn't recognize me, of course. I wasn't in Sharif's body anymore. But just the sight of him made my blood boil.
Before I could even think it through, I landed a punch so hard it sent him sprawling to the ground.
"Are you out of your mind?!" Josh yelled.
"I don't know what's going on here," I growled, "but I'm gonna teach you a lesson, you son of a—"
I didn't let him finish. I was on him in seconds, kicking, stomping, punching—pouring every ounce of rage into him. The other inmates tried to pull me off, begging me to stop.
"You're going to get yourself killed!" one of them warned. "He will kill you this time!"
I stopped and glared at all of them.
"Wait… you all think he'll kill me? And not the other way around?" I shouted. "What the hell is wrong with all of you?"
Josh looked up at me, blood on his lip. "You'll never leave this place alive," he hissed.
I leaned down close, locking eyes with him.
"No," I said coldly. "You're the one locked in here with me—not the other way around."
And I meant it.
Once the orb gives me the full memories and abilities of this body, I'll show him hell.
This time, Death won't have the last laugh.