It was a gloomy night.
The obnoxiously bright office light buzzed above me as the clock struck 2 A.M. Another night alone at the office. Another unpaid overtime shift that no one would thank me for.
I'm twenty-four, but the man staring back at me in my reflection looks twice that age. Hollow eyes. Dark circles. Patchy hair.
I stared at the spreadsheet on my screen. Numbers, rows, columns — nothing but empty noise.
Just how did it come to this?I was meant for more than this.I was supposed to make my country proud.I was supposed to be the one to finally bring India into the world of football.
A bitter laugh escaped my lips. "Such pointless thoughts."
Dreams, passion, football — they didn't put food on the table. They didn't pay hospital bills.
ding
My phone buzzed.
Dad: The hospital has asked us to pay the bill tomorrow or they will discontinue my treatment.Dad: I'm sorry, son.
I just sat there, staring at the screen.No anger. No sadness. Not even fear.
Just… nothing.
I'd been here before.Backed into a corner by life, without a way out.This was just one more nail in the coffin.
I finally shut off the computer and walked out.
Mumbai was quiet.
Too quiet.
Usually, the streets were alive with honking cars and stray dogs, but tonight, there was nothing. No sound, no movement.
It felt like the entire city was holding its breath.
I stepped onto the road to cross, heading for the bus stop — and that's when I saw it.
A blinding light.
The roar of an engine.
A truck came flying around the corner, far too close, far too fast.
The world slowed down.
And for the first time in years, I felt… calm.
Maybe even relieved.
I didn't move.
I didn't even try.
"What does it matter?" I whispered. "I've been dead inside for years. Might as well finish the job."
The life insurance would cover Dad's treatment. Maybe even get my sister through college.
This was the most useful thing I could do.
But as the truck drew closer, I felt something clawing at my chest.
Regret.
Not for my life.Not for my job.
But for the dream I had abandoned.
The dream of stepping onto a pitch and making the world watch.The dream of carrying the tricolor on my back, making India proud.
My dream… of football.
The truck hit me.
Pain. White-hot, unbearable pain.Then — silence.
Just before the darkness swallowed me, I heard a voice.
"My child… do you wish to fulfill your dream?"
It wasn't loud.It wasn't kind.
It was… inevitable.
"Yes!" I screamed into the void.
Nothing.
No heaven. No hell. No light.
Then — a gasp.
I shot upright, lungs burning as though I had been drowning.
Everything felt wrong.Too light. Too small.
I stumbled to the cracked mirror on the wall.
A boy stared back at me.
Small, skinny, hair sticking up in every direction.
Me.
Eight-year-old me.
My stomach twisted.
"No… this can't be real."
Then came the sound — clear and cold inside my head.
SYSTEMINITIALIZING
Welcome, Shiv Shaw.You have been given a second chance by ???.Fulfill your potential.
Words glowed faintly in front of me.
Quest 1: Touch the Ball.Reward: Basic Dribbling +1, System Tutorial Unlock.
In the corner of the room sat a tiny, battered football.The same one I used to play with in the streets after school.
My small hands trembled.
This wasn't a dream.
Someone — something — had given me another life.And it wanted me to start over from the very beginning.
I reached for the ball.