Chapter 0 – Notes for Readers
Italics → MC's thoughts
Plain text → Narrator
"Quotes" → Speech
------------------------------------------------------------
It was dark.
The kind of dark where you can't even tell if your eyes are open.
No sight. No sound. No feeling. Just… floating.
So this is death? Huh. I expected something more… flashy.
The last thing I remembered was running into the street, trying to save a little girl from a truck.
Result? Girl safe. Me? Not so much.
Truck-kun really has no mercy.
I sighed mentally. Guess there's no point complaining. Not like I can leave a bad review.
Time passed — I think. Hard to tell. My brain wandered.
Mason Gavin. Thirty-four years old. Five-foot-three. Built like a truck. Virgin till death. Parents disappointed. Siblings distant. Wow, this list is depressing.
Just as I was about to start my "Top 10 Regrets" ranking, something shifted. My 'body' felt lighter. The black faded to white — painfully white.
Sound came first.
Crackling fire. Shouts. Explosions.
Then I was standing.
In a city — or what was left of it. Buildings torn open like tin cans. Fires everywhere. Strange futuristic machines lying in pieces. The air thick with smoke and ash.
Okay… so death comes with a front row seat to the apocalypse. Neat.
A woman nearby knelt beside a wounded soldier. I jogged over.
"Hey! You there—hello?!" I reached to tap her shoulder… and my hand went straight through.
…Right.
She stood, walked away, passed through me like I was air. Which, I guess, I was.
So… ghost. Great. Didn't even get cool ghost powers.
Other spirits drifted near their bodies. From above, angels descended — glowing, graceful — guiding souls upward like it was the easiest thing in the world.
So I waited.
One minute. Two. Ten. Half an hour.
More souls came. More angels showed up.
None for me.
"Damn it, you angels! What, am I on a soul quarantine list?!"
Silence.
Frustrated, I wandered. That's when I felt it — a tap on my shoulder.
I turned.
She wasn't an angel.
Red skin. Black hair to her hips. Golden eyes, pointed ears, two horns curving upward, huge dark wings folded behind her, and a tail swaying lazily.
My survival instincts screamed. My dignity left the chat.
"Mama! Please help me! God, I swear I don't watch… that kind of stuff every day!"
She burst out laughing. "Well, isn't that a shame? I'm Birnal. Demoness. And I'm here to be your guide."
"D-demon? Guide? To where? Hell? No thanks, I'd like to pass on the eternal—"
SLAP.
Darkness again.
Moral of the story: never give the demoness ideas.