I died the way most people fear: alone, unnoticed, and pathetically mortal.
It happened on a Wednesday. I remember that clearly because I hated Wednesdays—smack in the middle of the week, with Monday's optimism gone and Friday still too far away to hope. I'd burned through my last two dollars on discount instant noodles, overcooked them in a microwave that smelled like someone had tried to cremate popcorn, and sat down to eat while scrolling mindlessly through video essays I'd already seen three times.
And then I choked.
Not on some dramatic bite, not gasping mid-monologue like in a tragic indie film. No. One tiny, stupid noodle went down the wrong way while I was half-laughing at a meme I didn't even find that funny. No Heimlich. No 911 call. Just silence and the slow, cold realization that my lungs weren't getting anything in.
My last thoughts weren't profound. They were:
Really?
Now?
This is how I go?
Then the world slipped sideways.
---
When I woke up, it wasn't the pearly gates or burning pits I expected. It was something… stranger.
Imagine a void—black, vast, but soft like velvet. Now imagine standing on nothing, feeling no weight, hearing no breath, yet being more present than ever.
Then a voice spoke.
It didn't boom or echo. It just was, crisp and conversational, like someone flipping through a book while talking to themselves.
> "Oh good. You're early. That saves us some buffering."
I turned, or rather, the world turned with me until the speaker appeared—seated in the air, legs folded, light curling around them in fluid ribbons of gold. They were androgynous, ageless, wrapped in robes that shimmered like shifting code. Upon closer inspection, the glowing lines weren't random—they were words. English words. Haiku, to be exact.
I blinked. "I'm hallucinating."
> "Nope."
"You're a memory."
> "Still no."
"You're… the final boss."
The figure finally chuckled. "Closer. Think of me as a system administrator for soul traffic. Name's Nyros."
The name lit up in floating script:
> NYROS — TRANSCENDENT ENTITY, MID-TIER OVERSIGHT DIVISION
I narrowed my eyes. "Mid-tier?"
Nyros shrugged. "Gods don't do paperwork. We do. Welcome to the queue between existence and next attempts."
"Next attempts?"
> "Reincarnation."
They said it like it was routine. I stared.
"You're telling me reincarnation is real?"
> "Of course. You humans keep writing stories about it. You think that's coincidence?"
"…Huh."
Nyros gestured with two fingers. A window blinked open in the air like a VR menu—transparent, glowing blue with scrolling lines of text. At the top, a label read:
> Soul Profile: Unresolved Potential Detected
> Status: Terminated Early — Accidental Death — No Soul Contract Claimed
Below that: stats. Literal character stats.
Trait Value
Strength 2
Dexterity 3
Intelligence 7
Mana Sensitivity 0
Charisma 5
Potential Modifier HIGH
I grimaced. "These are… not flattering."
> "That's your Earth-life score. Barely got past the tutorial."
I rolled my eyes. "Thanks."
> "Which is why you qualify," Nyros continued. "Unclaimed souls with high variance scores can enter a select reincarnation protocol—new world, new rules. Custom build."
"Like a fantasy world?"
Nyros raised an eyebrow. "Magic, monsters, steam-tech, mana channels, adventurers, cursed items, racial tension, world mysteries, undiscovered planes… Yeah. That."
"I get to choose how I come back?"
> "To a point. There are… limits. Balance. You can't come in as a god or a dragon king or something equally cringeworthy. But you can take perks. Buffs. If you're willing to take drawbacks."
"Debuffs," I said, nodding slowly. "Like risk versus reward."
> "Exactly. Choose your weaknesses. Earn your strengths. The harder you make your life at the start, the more powerful your growth curve becomes."
"And how long do I have to choose?"
Nyros leaned back, arms behind their head. "Time isn't real here. Take as long as you want. But most people make decisions faster than they think. Memory gets fuzzy the longer you stay."
I frowned. "Wait, I'll forget this?"
> "Some of it. Not all. Just… the weird edges."
I hesitated. The screen in front of me now showed dozens of options. More were unlocking with every second I scanned deeper.
But one item was already glowing red.
> [WARNING: EXTREME] — Curse of Mirror-Self & Fated Form
I touched it.
And my new life began to take shape.
---
The moment I selected the curse, a cascade of new perks unlocked.
It was like trading in sanity for cheat codes. I scrolled past dozens of boosts—mana adaptation, physical durability, healing factor, mental clarity, even a passive ability called "Soul Anchor" that claimed to prevent mental corruption from hostile magic.
And with each one I selected, the glowing red curse at the top of the screen pulsed brighter, as if it were thrilled I was choosing it.
I returned to its description, rereading it again. Carefully.
> Curse of Mirror-Self & Fated Form
Until you are kissed by your fated soulmate, your appearance will conform to the deepest physical desire of anyone who looks at you.
This effect does not include your genitalia, which will remain visibly and functionally dual-gender.
Your own reflection will show you your original, unmodified body as shaped by your deepest insecurities.
Magical disguises, glamours, and perception-altering effects will fail to override the curse.
Once kissed by your true soulmate, your permanent form will shift to become their ideal. This form will then be locked and visible to all.
The curse cannot be suppressed, transferred, or removed by any means other than the soulmate trigger.
It was as brilliant as it was brutal. Everyone would see me as what they most desired. I'd be impossible to categorize. Irresistible to some. Unsettling to others. Hated for what I was—and also for what I wasn't.
And I would never be able to truly hide.
More than that, I would always know the truth.
I would see it every time I looked into a mirror.
Every time I washed my face.
Every time I caught a reflection in a spoon.
Nyros, still lounging in midair, observed me quietly.
> "You're taking your time," they said. "Most people take this curse on impulse. You're reading it like a lawyer with trauma."
"Because it's awful," I said. "Ingenious, but awful."
> "So why pick it?"
I didn't answer right away.
Because in my past life, I was forgettable. Not unattractive, just... average. Beige. Easy to overlook. Easy to talk over. Never the person anyone dreamed about.
And I had hated mirrors long before this curse existed.
So why not burn down that bridge completely?
"I'll make it work," I said softly. "I'll build something real with it."
> "Spoken like someone who doesn't realize how long it can take to find a soulmate."
"Spoken like someone who plans to survive long enough to make it matter."
Nyros smiled. Not kindly. But not cruelly either. Just... with a kind of amused respect.
> "Good answer."
---
I spent the next subjective hour tweaking my build.
I poured bonus points into mana reserves, stamina recovery, and a stat labeled "Mental Threading", which let me process parallel ideas like a multi-core CPU. I took minor social penalties, limiting my charisma when not actively speaking. I accepted a racial background that started me as part of a group marginalized and hated in the world I was going to.
I even gave myself a passive condition: "Unsettling Aura"—subtle enough not to cause panic, but enough to make most people second-guess trusting me fully until proven otherwise.
My goal wasn't popularity. It was survival—followed by freedom.
The final setup glowed in front of me like a completed character sheet. I stared at the name section. It was blank.
"Do I get to choose that too?" I asked.
> "Nope," Nyros said, stretching. "That's your new parents' job."
"Wait. I'll have parents?"
> "Of course. This isn't a lab-grown scenario. You'll be born. Fully. Painfully. Biologically."
I swallowed. "...That's horrifying."
> "You'll forget most of it."
"Most?"
Nyros gave me a look.
I sighed. "Alright. Anything else I should know?"
Nyros floated downward until we were eye-level. They reached forward, hand glowing with words I couldn't read.
> "You won't remember this," they said quietly. "Not all of it. But parts will linger. Feelings. Impressions. Maybe a name. Maybe my voice. Enough to find your footing when it matters."
"And why are you helping me?"
Nyros tilted their head.
> "Because someone once did it for me."
---
Light exploded around me.
No, not light—compression.
My mind twisted. Time frayed. I felt myself shrink—not physically, but conceptually. Like someone was stuffing my consciousness into a sleeping bag that was four sizes too small.
Sensation returned.
Then sound.
Then pressure.
Then pain.
---
I felt it before I could think it: the tightness of flesh not meant to be passed through yet, the distant thunder of a heartbeat that wasn't mine, the rush of warmth followed by air.
And then—
Screaming.
My own.
Wetness. Cold. Cramped limbs.
A voice cried out, strained and wild. A woman. Then another—softer, guiding, urgent.
> "Push again! Just one more!"
Hands caught me. Soft but trembling.
I blinked.
The world was a blur of lantern light and color. I was upside down, naked, shivering. A blanket was wrapped around me, too late to stop the cold.
Someone gasped.
> "Oh gods… they're—uh..."
There was hesitation.
> "They're beautiful."
A second voice, breathless. Older. A whisper. "Look at them. It's like they're glowing."
But I knew better.
It had begun.
They saw what they wanted.
Not who I was.
Not what I was.
Not what I would become.
---
Somewhere nearby, a woman sobbed and reached for me.
The first voice smiled. "Congratulations."
My mother's voice, through the fog of exhaustion and awe:
> "My little Kael…"
The name wrapped around me like a second blanket. I didn't choose it.
But I accepted it.
---
And just like that…
I was alive again.