The first thing he felt was… nothing. No weight in his limbs, no ground beneath him. Just an empty stillness, like he was floating in a blank canvas.
When he forced his eyes open, he wasn't met with darkness. Instead, he saw a man—or something that only looked like one. A face pale and smooth, almost featureless, like porcelain molded just enough to resemble human expression. The resemblance reminded him of something—Truth from Fullmetal Alchemist—but clothed in a tailored black suit, crisp and modern.
The figure wasn't looking at him. Its head was turned toward the right, hands resting over a sleek keyboard, fingers tapping lazily. A screen glowed faitntly in front of it, the contents invisible from his angle.
"Ah," the being muttered, clicking the mouse. A smile spread across its near-featureless face. "That was one of the best destinies I've ever seen."
His throat tightened. "W–what?" The word slipped out before he could stop himself.
The being turned slowly, tilting its head as though only now noticing him. "Oh. You're awake."
He blinked, trying to gather his thoughts, but nothing made sense. Last he remembered… "Am I dead?" His voice cracked. "Is this hell? Heaven? Or—"
"Neither," the being interrupted smoothly, voice calm but carrying a strange echo. The being's near-featureless face tilted. "Not heaven. Not yet. Not hell either. Normally, your path would've been simple. Life ends, karma weighed, destination decided."
"Karma…?" he repeated, the word strange on his tongue.
The being nodded. "Every life racks it up. Enough, and the gates of heaven open. Too little, and purification awaits in hell. Not forever—the first level, in your case. You'd suffer, endure, and only after would heaven take you."
His chest tightened. "So… I'm going to hell?"
The being's smile was thin, almost sympathetic. "You were not supposed to die when you did. Fate cheated you. The karma you were meant to earn in your destined years… gone. That leaves you short of the minimum to pass freely into heaven."
He swallowed hard. "…Then what happens to me now?"
"That," the being leaned back in its chair, folding its hands, "is why you have been called here. There is… another path. A second chance. One not given often."
He blinked, his throat dry. "A… second chance? You mean… another life?"
"Of a sort." The being's voice was calm, almost casual. "You may choose purification in hell, endure its flames until the weight of your sins is burned away, and then ascend to heaven. That is the natural order."
The word flames made his stomach churn. "And the other?"
The being's faceless head turned toward him fully now, its blank features impossible to read. "To live again. Maybe in your world as someone different or in a world that is different from yours. Maybe a world drawn not from earth, but from the fragments of human imagination. Fiction, as you would call it."
He frowned, his voice catching between disbelief and unease. "Wait that… that doesn't make sense. I can understand another universe. But fiction is fake. Made-up stories."
"And yet here you are, speaking to me. Does it matter whether the stage is called 'earth' or something else?"
He hesitated. "So… you're saying I'd have a chance to just… wake up in some story?"
"Yes. With a body unbroken. With a mind sharpened. The chance to live freely, without the chains of your previous fate. And a chance to regain the Karma you were supposed to rake up."
His heart hammered. "And if I don't…?"
The being leaned slightly forward. "Hell awaits. The first level, mild compared to what others endure, but pain beyond anything you can imagine. Every second, real. Every scream, yours."
He swallowed hard, his hands curling into fists. His instinct screamed to run, but there was nowhere to run.
"So…" he whispered, "it's burn in hell… or live again in some… other world?"
The being nodded once. "That is the choice. I do not decide for you."
He lowered his gaze, jaw tight. The thought of flames licking at his skin, of screaming for eternity, made his stomach twist. He looked back up at the faceless being.
"I'll… take the second option," he said. His voice was barely above a whisper, but steady. "Another chance."
The being inclined its head slightly, like it had been expecting that answer. Without a word, it reached down, opened a drawer in the desk beside it, and pulled something out.
He blinked. It was a gaudy, brightly painted lottery wheel, the kind he'd only seen at carnivals as a kid—spinning sections of red, green, and yellow, each marked with strange symbols he didn't recognize. The colors seemed almost too vivid against the sterile white around them.
The being set it down in front of him with a soft clack. "Then press the button."
"What button?"
Before the question had fully left his lips, something clicked into place on the table right in front of him. A large, flat red button. Its surface gleamed as though it had just been polished, and a faint hum came from it, like it was alive.
He froze, staring at it. "That… wasn't there before."
The being's faceless head tilted slightly. "It is now."
His throat went dry again. The button seemed to almost pulse, as if daring him to touch it.
The button's hum pressed against his ears, louder than it had any right to be. His fingers twitched, but he pulled his hand back.
"Wait," he muttered, shaking his head."What's this wheel even for?"
The being's faceless head turned toward him, posture unreadable. "That," it said calmly, one long finger tapping the rim of the carnival wheel, "decides the world of your rebirth."
His brows furrowed. "World? You mean… I don't even get to choose?"
"You do not," the being replied, voice level as if it were the most natural thing. "This is not charity. This is balance. The spin determines where you go. It may be a world you know, or one you've only brushed against in passing. It may be kinder than your last… or much crueler."
The words hit him like cold water. His stomach knotted tighter. "So I could end up anywhere?"
"Anywhere," the being confirmed. "You've chosen a second life, now fate chooses the stage. Worlds you've seen, read, or even just heard of may appear."
He let out a dry laugh, though there was no humor in it. "So my future comes down to a spin of the wheel?"
The being leaned back slightly, the curve of its faceless head suggesting the faintest of smiles. "Life has always been a gamble. This time, at least, you see the wheel."
The button pulsed again, louder now.
He swallowed, then slammed the button.
The wheel screamed into color—red, green, gold—click-click-click—slowing—thudding past symbols he didn't recognize—until it landed with a final clack.
[PTJ UNIVERSE]
The being leaned back, unreadable, then simply said:
"Now. Write down the endowments you want."
He blinked. "Write? Where?"
A notepad and pen appeared in his hands without warning.
"Wait, what do you mean by endowments?" He asked.
"Perks, compensations, with which you can have a headstart in your new life". The being replied.
Before he could put the pen to paper, the being's voice cut in, calm but edged:
"Be careful. If you choose something that shifts the balance of the world you're going to, that world will adapt. It will see you as a virus. And it will actively try to kill you. But if you choose something reasonable, within balance, you will not be harmed."
The pen hovered above the page. His chest tightened.
"So if I upset the balance… the whole world comes after me?"
"That is correct."
He lowered the pen. "…Then what kind of world is this 'PTJ UNIVERSE' even about?"
"I cannot disclose too many details." The being said.
"Is it as dangerous as Marvel?"
The being turned toward the glowing computer screen, fingers typing for a few seconds before answering. "No. Not on that scale."
"On par with Earth, then?"
"No. More dangerous."
His throat went dry. "…John Wick dangerous?"
The being finally looked at him, eyes sharp above the glow of the monitor.
"Yes. That level—or perhaps a little worse. But…" He paused. "If you choose not to involve yourself, it will not seek you out."
The pen pressed against the paper but didn't move. His hand trembled slightly.
He swallowed, eyes flicking back to the being. "…So if I get involved, I'm dead before I even start."
"Correct."
The words carried no malice. Just fact.
He exhaled slowly, tightening his grip on the pen. 'Don't overthink it. Just what I need to move forward.'
His first line was quick, almost instinctive:
1. Comprehension.
He tapped the pen against the paper, hesitating before adding:
2. A healthy body.
The being leaned forward, eyes glancing at the words.
"Clarify."
He looked down at his writing, then up again. "I mean… not just free of sickness. A body that doesn't betray me. No more fatigue, no more weakness. Clearer eyesight. A metabolism that actually works for me instead of against me." He breathed out, almost laughing at himself. "Basically… the body I should've had if life was fair and Comprehension. Well I could've chose Learning but there is a big difference, if I chose Learning, I could learn to code but not really apply it, but comprehension I can fully understand what I can do with it."
The being studied him in silence. For a long moment, only the faint hum of the monitor filled the space. Then it gave a small nod.
"That is within balance."
Relief loosened his chest. He hadn't realized he was holding his breath.
"So…" He looked at the notepad again. "This is it?"
The being's gaze shifted back to the computer. Keys clicked, something unseen being entered. "Yes. Those two will define your new beginning."
The being's pale face turned from the computer, eyes fixed on him.
"So, what about your family?"
He frowned. "Family?"
"Yes," the being replied, voice steady. "In this next life, do you want parents? Siblings? None at all?"
For a moment, he just stared at the empty air. The idea of choosing his own family twisted something in his chest.
"…No," he said finally, shaking his head. "I don't want parents."
The being raised a brow but didn't speak.
He pressed on, words coming slower, heavier. "I already have parents. Not perfect ones. They weren't around much. But they worked their asses off for me and my siblings. Even if I didn't see them enough, I knew why. I knew they were doing it for us. I don't… I don't want to replace them with strangers who only exist because of me." He let out a breath. "It wouldn't feel right. I couldn't look at anyone else and call them Mom or Dad."
Silence lingered, and he rubbed the back of his neck, softer now. "But… maybe an aunt could work. Someone distant enough that it wouldn't feel like I'm betraying my real family. If she's there as a guardian, I can live with that."
The being gave the faintest nod, almost like it approved.
"As for the situation," he added, thinking aloud, "it'd make sense if my parents were already gone. Insurance money, maybe. Something that leaves me with a stable life. That way, it's not perfect—but it's not desperate either."
The being nodded once, then turned back to the screen. Fingers moved across keys with a steady rhythm, the glow of the monitor washing over his face. It went on for minutes, the silence stretching, broken only by the faint tapping of keystrokes.
Finally, he stopped, leaned back slightly, and gave a small smile. "Alright. That is all noted."
The screen dimmed, and the being folded his hands on the desk. "This is where I leave you. From here on, you walk your own path."
He gestured lightly with his chin. "There is a door behind you. That is where your next life begins."
He swallowed, glancing over his shoulder. The door was just… there. Waiting.
He rose from the chair, legs heavy, and started toward it.
"Wait," the being said.
He stopped, hand hovering inches from the knob.
"This world is not without peril. But your aunt shall remain untouched by it. No harm will come to her, nor will she ever be turned into a chain to bind you if you ever choose to get involved. Be at ease in this, for it is certain."
For the first time since arriving here, his chest loosened a little. He gave a small nod. "…Thanks."