There was no sky.
No ground.
No horizon.
Only an endless white void stretching in every direction — silent, sterile, eternal.
A single line of people extended across the nothingness. It had no visible beginning and no end in sight. Souls stood shoulder to shoulder, facing forward, unmoving. None dared to step out of line.
Or perhaps they simply couldn't.
It wasn't fear that kept them in place. It was something deeper — an invisible rule woven into the space itself. A cosmic instruction embedded into existence:
Wait your turn.
Yet about fifteen feet away from that endless procession, something was… different.
A small wooden table sat where no table should exist. Two chairs. A worn green felt surface. A deck of cards.
And two men.
One appeared ancient — dressed in refined 1800s attire, long coat, polished shoes, silver hair neatly combed back. He carried himself like a gentleman gambler from another era.
The other looked thoroughly modern. Around twenty-two years old. Casual clothes. Slightly messy hair. Relaxed posture.
They looked like strangers pulled from entirely different centuries.
And yet, they played cards like old friends.
"Damn it!" the older man barked, slamming his cards down on the table. "That's the 2,945th time I've lost. I was so close that round."
The younger man — Max — smirked as he gathered the deck.
"Hey, that's only about fifty more wins than I've got," he said casually. "And we're playing with fake money anyway."
He leaned back slightly, folding his hands behind his head.
"So," Max continued, "as per our agreement. One question. What do you want to know this time?"
The old man studied him with an amused glint in his eye.
"Oh, Max…" he hummed thoughtfully. "I believe I've learned most of what I wished to learn. It has been ten years, after all."
Ten years.
Ten years of games in the void.
Ten years since Max had stepped out of the line.
Normally, when someone died in their world, they were brought here. A temporary holding place. A waiting room for the soul. Memories would be reset, identity smoothed down, and eventually the soul would be sent off to reincarnate somewhere new.
Unless…
Unless they were specially selected.
Chosen souls were rare. Administrators sometimes plucked individuals from the cycle, granting them memories, abilities, privileges.
Max had never been chosen.
He had simply… stepped out of line.
And when he tried to return?
He couldn't.
The line rejected him.
Luckily — or unluckily — there had been someone else in this void with unusual privileges.
The old man.
He had once encountered an Administrator early in his stay and earned a peculiar reward: the ability to summon games. Cards. Chess. Dice. Anything he could imagine.
And so they made a deal.
After every game, the old man could ask one question.
Max never learned what the man truly was.
But he suspected he wasn't just another soul waiting in line.
"How about," the old man said now, leaning forward slightly, "a hypothetical. If you were chosen… what world would you reincarnate into?"
Max shuffled the cards with practiced ease.
"Hm. Maybe Doki Doki Literature Club," he said lightly. "Lot of potential there. Especially if you do things right."
The old man's expression shifted instantly.
"I strongly advise against that."
Max paused mid-shuffle.
"It's hypothetical," he said. "Why not?"
The older man folded his hands atop the table.
"An Administrator once explained it like this," he began. "Every universe begins as a default state. A clean origin point. From there, timelines branch. Variables emerge. Randomness spreads."
He tapped the table softly.
"Usually, the original timeline is the most stable. The most balanced."
His eyes darkened slightly.
"But the original Doki Doki timeline… was born under a curse."
Max raised an eyebrow.
"A curse?"
"It was called something akin to the Third Eye," the old man said. "A parasitic anomaly embedded into the world's foundation. It corrupts what it touches."
He leaned back.
"Monika never truly possessed the ability to manipulate the world's code. She was merely a convenient conduit. The curse used her awareness as an anchor."
Max frowned slightly.
"So if I removed her early—"
"It would not matter," the old man interrupted calmly. "The curse would shift. Twist the others. Bend events. Even the world itself would turn hostile. That universe resists interference."
He smiled faintly.
"Many tried. They all returned here."
Max studied him carefully.
"You know a lot about that."
The old man chuckled.
"When souls return, they talk."
Silence settled between them for a moment.
"Fine," Max said finally. "What about So I'm a Spider, So What?"
The old man's eyes lit up slightly.
"Ah. Interesting choice."
"And if I had unlimited wishes?" Max added. "No cap."
The old man tilted his head.
"Then what would you choose?"
Max shrugged casually.
"Power, obviously. The Ruler skills seemed insane. Rapid growth. Adaptation. And…" he smirked faintly, "Kumoko wasn't exactly hard to look at in her humanoid forms."
The old man laughed softly.
"I see."
"I'd want strength," Max continued. "The ability to grow fast. Survive anything. Beyond that? I'd figure it out."
He finished dealing the cards and waited.
Normally, the old man would summon chips. Stacks of them. The clinking sound echoing through the void.
But this time…
Only a single golden poker chip materialized in the old man's hand.
No stacks.
No table full of bets.
Just one.
Max frowned slightly.
"New rule?"
The old man's gaze softened in a way it never had before.
"Thank you," he said quietly. "For playing with an old man for so long."
Max blinked.
"What?"
The golden chip flipped into the air.
"Enjoy your reward."
The moment the chip spun upward, reality shifted.
Max felt something pull at his very existence — not painful, not violent — but absolute.
As the chip came down and landed on the table with a soft metallic click…
Max vanished.
The chair was empty.
The deck of cards scattered into light.
The old man leaned back, smiling faintly as he looked up into the endless white.
"I would have given it to you eventually," he murmured. "Win or lose."
It had been so long since he simply enjoyed playing a game.
"Enjoy your new world," he added softly. "I do hope we meet again… within the next few dozen years."
And then—
He, too, disappeared.
The table dissolved.
The cards turned to dust.
The void returned to silence
[Author: Here we are, the voted story. Even a hint on a future project. Check out my other stories if this is the first fir you]