The last thing I remember from my old life is the universe being petty.
Not dramatic petty. Not poetic petty. Just the kind where you realize too late that you slipped on wet pavement while holding instant noodles and texting at the same time.
It was raining. Of course it was raining. Rain follows me like it has unfinished business.
I remember the shine of the sidewalk, the reflection of streetlights smeared across it like wet paint. I remember thinking I should slow down. I remember not slowing down.
My foot slid forward. My balance vanished. The ground came up to greet my face with enthusiasm.
Pain flashed.
Then nothing.
No tunnel of light.
No life review.
No sad music swelling in the background.
Just one annoyed thought drifting through the dark.
So this is how I die. Over instant noodles.
The darkness peeled away.
I was standing in a white space. Not a room. Not a sky. Just endless blank, like someone forgot to load the texture. No walls, no horizon, no up or down. It felt less like an afterlife and more like a loading screen that had given up.
In front of me sat a desk.
Behind it was a woman who looked like she belonged in a fantasy illustration. Silver hair fell neatly over her shoulders. Her skin was flawless in a way that felt intentional, like it had been optimized. Her eyes glowed faintly, not with warmth, but with the dull shine of someone running on low patience.
She flipped through a glowing clipboard, her expression tired in a very specific way. The kind of tired that came from dealing with too many idiots in a row.
"Kisaragi Ren," she read aloud. "You died."
"I noticed," I said.
"You were not scheduled to die," she added without looking up.
"I also noticed that."
She sighed. Long. Deep. The sigh of someone who had to clean up a mess that wasn't technically their fault.
"This is an administrative error," she said.
"That sounds important."
"It is inconvenient," she corrected.
She set the clipboard down and finally looked at me. Really looked at me.
"You will be reincarnated."
I crossed my arms. "Please tell me I don't have to be a baby."
"You will not be a baby."
Thank the universe.
"You will awaken in another world," she continued. "A world with magic. A world with instability."
That last word stuck with me longer than the others.
"Am I a hero?" I asked.
"No."
That was fast.
"Do I get a sword?"
"No."
"Fire magic?"
"No."
I stared at her. "You're really selling this."
She tapped the clipboard again. Lines of glowing text appeared in the air between us.
Skill Granted: Anchor Presence
Type: Passive
Rank: Unknown
Effect: Stabilizes emotional and mana flow of nearby individuals. Strength increases with proximity and trust.
I squinted. "So… I make people calm?"
"You stabilize them."
"I am emotional furniture."
"You are rare emotional furniture."
I laughed despite myself. "Do I at least get to be attractive?"
She stared at me flatly. "You will be average."
"Figures."
"Your presence will prevent collapse," she continued. "You will not fight. You will not lead armies. But people with unstable power will gather around you."
That sounded like a problem disguised as a compliment.
Before I could ask what kind of collapse she meant, the space trembled. Gravity grabbed me like it had been waiting its turn.
"Good luck, Ren Kisaragi," she said. "Try not to die again."
The white space shattered.
I fell.
Wind roared past me. My stomach flipped violently as images flashed by in fragments. Stone towers piercing the clouds. A massive academy built into a mountainside. Students in uniforms. Magic circles burning in the air like living symbols.
Then I landed.
Not painfully. More like dropping into a bed that did not ask permission.
I gasped and sat upright.
Wooden walls. A narrow bed. A desk cluttered with books I did not recognize. A window with rain tapping gently against the glass.
Rain again. Great.
I looked down at myself. An academy uniform. Dark jacket. Clean shirt. Fitted trousers. My body felt lighter. Healthier. Like I had slept properly for the first time in years.
I stood and stretched, half-expecting something to break.
Average build. Average face. The goddess did not lie.
A knock sounded at the door.
I froze.
I had been alive in this world for maybe three minutes and someone already wanted something from me.
I opened the door slightly.
A girl stood there.
Long midnight-blue hair. Soft eyes. Calm posture. The same academy uniform, worn neatly. She held a stack of books against her chest.
She was standing close. Too close.
She blinked. "Oh. You're awake."
Her voice was quiet. Gentle.
Something strange happened.
The noise in my head softened. The tight knot in my chest loosened. The world felt quieter, like someone had turned down the volume on existence itself.
Her shoulders relaxed.
"…That's strange," she murmured.
"What is?" I asked.
She hesitated. "I usually feel sick in the mornings. My mana races. But right now… it's calm."
She took a small step closer without realizing it. Her sleeve brushed mine.
"I'm Aoi Lumeris," she said softly. "They asked me to bring your materials."
I swallowed. "I'm Ren."
She repeated my name under her breath, like she was testing how it felt.
Then she smiled.
And I had the sinking feeling that my new life had already gone completely off the rails.
Her smile lingered a second longer than necessary, like she was reluctant to step away.
I became aware of it all at once. The quiet. The absence of pressure in my chest. The way my thoughts weren't spiraling ahead like they usually did. Whatever this Anchor Presence thing was, it wasn't subtle.
Aoi shifted her weight, clearly unsure whether she should move back or closer. When she finally stepped away, even just a little, I felt something tighten again, faint but noticeable.
She frowned.
"…That's not good," she murmured.
"What isn't?" I asked.
She looked up at me, concern slipping into her calm expression.
"I think," she said slowly, "you're the reason I'm okay."
That was when I realized two things at once.
First, I wasn't as powerless as I thought.
Second, this ability was going to cause problems.
Big ones.