The day before prom was supposed to be the best day of my life.
I'd somehow managed the impossible—I got a date. Not just any date. Her. Sakura Tanaka. The girl who'd been leagues above me since freshman year. Smiling at me across the classroom, laughing when I stumbled over my words, kindly pretending not to notice when I dropped my pen for the fifth time just to be near her desk.
And now… she'd actually said yes.
I'd spent all week panicking about my suit, rehearsing conversations in the mirror, and pretending I wasn't dying inside whenever I imagined our first dance.
Which, in hindsight, is ironic. Because the only thing I'd actually be doing before prom was… well, dying.
It wasn't dramatic. Not a noble sacrifice. Not some grand heroic finale.
I was crossing the street with my suit in a plastic bag when—BLAM. Headlights, tires, a scream that might've been mine. Then silence.
When I opened my eyes again, I was standing in line.
"Next," droned a voice.
The room I found myself in looked less like heaven and more like the waiting hall at the DMV. Rows of plastic chairs. White walls that buzzed faintly under fluorescent lights. A line of souls shuffling forward in weary silence.
Behind a counter sat an angel in a wrinkled white shirt and crooked halo, stamping forms with all the enthusiasm of a salaryman on overtime.
I blinked. "Uh. What—where—?"
"Afterlife Processing," the angel said flatly, not looking up. "Name?"
I swallowed. "Shinsou Sousei. But, uh, people call me Shin."
The angel flipped through a thick file that appeared out of nowhere, pages fluttering like wings. His expression never changed as his eyes skimmed over the record.
"Mmm. Average grades, average looks, average athletic performance. Let's see… covetous thoughts, laziness, procrastination, lies, some… questionable internet history—"
I flushed. "Hey, that's private!"
The angel ignored me. "Verdict: Hell."
"…what."
He gestured vaguely at the far corner of the room, where a glowing red escalator led downward. Souls trudged toward it in silence, faces blank.
"Hell. Eternal punishment. Down there. Next!"
I didn't move.
"…Excuse me," I said.
The angel finally looked up. His eyes glowed faintly with a golden light, but they were tired. Like he'd seen a million souls complain before me.
"I think you've made a mistake," I said firmly. "I'm not supposed to go to Hell. Prom's tomorrow."
A pause. Then, deadpan: "Irrelevant."
"No, you don't understand. I finally—I finally got a date. With her. Do you know how many years it took? How many chances I blew?!"
The angel blinked once, then looked back down at his papers. "Hell. Next."
Something in me snapped.
"I'm not going!" I shouted.
The line of souls went quiet. Even the fluorescent buzzing seemed to dim.
The angel sighed and set his pen down. Then he stood.
In the blink of an eye, the tired clerk was gone, replaced by something out of scripture. His form stretched upward, armor of light shimmering into place. A spear of radiant flame appeared in his hand. His halo burned brighter than the sun.
"If you don't move from this place," the angel intoned, voice like thunder, "I will...."
My heart hammered. My instincts screamed at me to stay still. To accept it.
But…
I clenched my fists. "What, kill me? Newsflash—you already did!"
Before I could second-guess myself, I lunged.
It was pathetic, honestly. I swung like a wildman, fists cutting through air, shouting like a lunatic about prom and injustice and unfairness.
The angel swatted me aside like an insect. Pain lanced through me—I hadn't even thought souls could feel pain. My knees buckled, but I staggered back up, spitting blood that shouldn't have existed.
"NOT… BEFORE PROM!" I roared, charging again.
Spear met fist. My hand seared as if burned, but I didn't let go. I slammed my forehead into his chest, head ringing. The angel stared down at me in something between fury and disbelief.
"This is pointless," he said coldly. "You cannot resist the will of Heaven."
"Watch me!" I screamed, swinging again.
For one insane second, I thought I saw his stance falter. Not from pain, but from hesitation. Souls weren't supposed to fight back. Especially not losers like me.
And then—
"Alright, alright, what's all this racket?"
The voice was casual. Too casual.
The light shifted, and suddenly another figure was in the room.
He wasn't dressed in robes of gold, or wielding thunderbolts. No choir sang his arrival.
Instead… he was wearing sneakers. A black hoodie. Loose joggers. A golden wristwatch gleamed on his hand as he sipped from a steaming coffee cup.
The angel dropped to one knee instantly. "My Lord!"
I froze, bruised and bloodied, staring.
Then the words just slipped out.
"…Wait. God's got DRIP?!"
The figure tilted his head, amused. "Drip?"
"You're literally dressed like you're about to drop the hottest mixtape of the century!" I blurted.
The corner of his mouth twitched. "You like it? Heaven's fashion week. You wouldn't understand."
I stood there, mouth open. This was GOD?
The angel's face twisted in outrage. "This mortal is defiant, my Lord! He dares resist judgement!"
God waved him off lazily. "Yeah, yeah, I see all and know all, Chill." He sipped his coffee, then glanced at me with sharp eyes that seemed to pierce through every layer of me.
"So," he said. "Shinsou Sousei. Shin, right?"
I swallowed. "Y-yeah. Just Shin."
God nodded. "Alright, Shin. Tell me. What's the problem?"
"The problem?!" My voice cracked. "The problem is I finally—FINALLY—got a prom date and you people just—just—no! I am NOT going to Hell for bad thoughts when I didn't even get my shot!"
God's gaze softened slightly. Then he smirked. "Prom, huh. That's new."
He snapped his fingers. A scroll materialized, unfurling in midair. My entire life record spilled out—every memory, every mistake, every dumb late-night Google search.
God started reading aloud, voice full of amusement.
"Age sixteen: stole fries from a friend. Age seventeen: told mother you finished homework, but instead binged anime. Age seventeen and a half: really questionable browser activity."
I turned crimson. "HEY!"
He chuckled, rolling the scroll back up. "Not exactly saint material, Shin. But…"
His eyes gleamed.
"…you've got guts."
The room seemed to still.
God leaned closer, voice lowering. "You fought an angel barehanded. Not smart. But rare. So here's the deal."
A golden map appeared in the air, seven glowing points marked across a vast, unknown land.
"Seven Celestial Treasures," God said. "Artifacts anchoring the balance of the world. Destroy them. All seven. Do that, and I'll send you back. Right before you died. Prom and all."
I blinked. "Wait. For real?"
"Of course. But…" His grin widened. "…if you fail? Straight to Hell. No tantrums allowed."
My stomach dropped.
The angel beside him looked furious, but said nothing.
I clenched my fists. Seven treasures. Some impossible quest in a world I'd never seen. It was insane.
But… it was a chance.
My chance.
I took a deep breath. "Fine. Deal."
God clapped me on the shoulder. "Good boy. Off you go, then."
"Wait, already—?!"
The ground vanished beneath me. Light swallowed my vision.
I screamed as I fell into the unknown.
Above me, I thought I heard God's voice, faint but amused:
"Prom, huh? Let's see if you can make it."