2

An Insincere Apology

The electric bus rolled to a stop near the local supermarket, and Rian stepped out. According to the tracking app, the drone was stuck a few blocks away. It was currently sending out a distress signal—for use of the delivery employees to find and recover it. Thankfully, since Rian knew the tracking number, the locator app would match up with the signal’s frequency and point him to it. There was virtually no chance of someone else using the app to intercept it. The drone wouldn’t even physically release its grip on the package until Rian signed for it.

He breathed into his hands as he walked. It was only November and he was already missing the warmer months of Toronto. Then again, it wasn’t like he went outside much.

He stopped as the app told him to turn right into an alleyway, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the yawning darkness ahead.

Something wrapped itself around his heart.

It was enough to make him flinch, this feeling of something being wrong. The light snowfall on the ground was absent thanks to the overhangs of the buildings, and a few metal staircases wound up and down the alley, but there wasn’t anyone there.

Relaxing, Rian dismissed the feeling. Just a pang of superstition.

Ahead, the drone lay on its side, a blinking light atop it. The package was still attached. Rian sighed in relief and stepped up to it. There’s my fetch-quest for the day.

The drone’s body and propellers were disfigured and sparking as if it had run into something at high speed. Probably one of the railings of the staircases. Whatever happened must’ve been some kind of massive equipment failure. These drones usually didn’t have navigation problems, but he supposed the cold weather must’ve gotten to it somehow.

He knelt. The signing screen was still active, thank goodness. He punched in the four-digit delivery code he’d received earlier and signed his name. The mechanism released, and the package slid out of its grip.

He picked it up. The box was lighter than he expected, which made sense given that he’d have to wear the headset for hours at a time. But he gently shook it anyway, just to make sure that it wasn’t empty.

Satisfied, he headed out of the alley.

Or at least he started to, because the moment he looked up, someone was in his way.

Blocking his path stood a large man in a black winter coat, unzipped and with the hood up. He was already approaching.

Oh come on, Rian thought. Are you kidding me?

“Hey kid,” the man said, stopping a few feet away. He tucked his hands into his coat. “Drop the box. Set it down and you won’t get hurt.”

Rian almost rolled his eyes. Of all the days this had to happen, it was on release day. He unclenched his jaw, quelled his frustration. No, he could get angry about this later. Right now, he needed to do something, and quickly.

The man started to approach again. From his coat he took out a metal pipe. At first Rian thought it was a police baton but then recognized it as one of the supports for the staircase railings—sawed off.

Ooookay. This is happening.

Rian stepped back, adrenaline surging through him not for the first time today. The man swung the pipe at his hands, but Rian backed out of the way, barely keeping his balance on the slick ground.

Oh. My reflexes are still intact. Cool.

Take that, people who think video games are good for nothing.

As nervous as he was, he was primed for this kind of situation—making high-pressure decisions. All that mattered was his next choice.

Rian sized up the mugger, turned around, and ran as fast as he could into the alley.

He didn’t know exactly where he was, or where he was going, but he’d figure that out later. Right now, getting the hell away from that guy came first. Moving into the open would help his chances. There was a street ahead, and it looked like there were people on the sidewalk.

He could hear the man’s running footsteps behind him. Judging by the sound, Rian had widened the distance. He took the chance and looked over his shoulder. The guy was barreling toward him with the pipe raised but wasn’t getting any closer.

The end of the alleyway approached, light returning.

Thank goodness, that was a close—

Pain exploded across the side of Rian’s head. Slipping, he fell backward, releasing his grip on the box as he collapsed. A second later, a loose metal pipe clattered to the ground beside him.

Something was very wrong—more so than the fact that something had crushed itself into his head. For the speed of the impact, he knew, it hurt way more than it should’ve. It felt as if a drill had opened a hole in his skull, but he didn’t feel the warmth of blood cascading down his head. And yet the pain was so intense that he could barely move. He couldn’t even breathe in to scream.

A nasally voice spoke down at him.

“Sorry, Cob.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

With one eye closed, Rian squinted up at the man who’d struck him with the pipe. If there was ever an example of a textbook nerd, he was standing over him: skinny, pasty, wearing thick glasses, face full of acne. He was cradling his hand and rubbing it as if he’d hurt it. He stepped away from Rian and picked up the box, which had slid away.

“Well, I warned him,” the other, larger man said, panting as he caught up. “Damn, how hard did you hit him?”

The pain in Rian’s head built to a blinding pressure. And yet he wanted to laugh because as everything began to darken, it occurred to him that his last thought was going to be: damn, you really got outplayed this time, huh?

All the sounds of the world around him muffled into each other, rising into hushed static like ocean waves churning, washing over him until he couldn’t hear anything, couldn’t see anything.

***

“What a shame.”

Her voice startled Rian into waking, but when he opened his eyes, there was nothing but darkness. When some part of his mind rationalized it as being nighttime, relief swept through him. He’d survived. He’d made it far enough out of the alleyway for someone on the sidewalk to find him.

Alleyway? Sidewalk?

Everything was still fuzzy. Where had he been going, before?

“I wish it hadn’t taken so long,” the woman continued, her voice like gently brushed velvet, “but at least it’s working.”

“Are you sure about this one?” Another voice—male, but the pitch was higher than hers. “I don’t see what makes him so different from the rest.”

“Nothing, actually,” the woman said. “Well, there is something different about him. It’s a bit ironic. Though there’s no way to know if it’ll make a difference or not.”

Rian tried to speak, but his body still wouldn’t move. What the hell were these pedestrians talking about? It didn’t sound like they were helping him.

“I thought you were supposed to be all-seeing,” the man said. “Wouldn’t you know the outcome ahead of time?”

“I’m not all-seeing,” the woman said, irritated. “Not like I used to be.”

“I suppose that’s true. He is the fourth one, isn’t he?”

Rian stirred. Faintly, he could feel his body again. His vision was still darkened, but he was standing, and above him there were slivers and blobs of light coming down as if he were at the bottom of a lake. And, worryingly, after a moment of awareness, he didn’t feel the urge to breathe.

“Can you hear me?” the woman said closer now, though he couldn’t see anyone yet. There was a pause as if she was expecting Rian to answer. He still couldn’t speak. “Good,” she said. “It’s almost time to begin. You can open your eyes, now.”

As if her words had lifted a weight upon him, he let his eyes drift open. He was still floating in darkness, but there was the soft reflection of a floor against an unseen light.

Am I…dead? he thought.

“Not quite.”

Rian turned, and a petite man was standing in the void with his hands folded behind his back. He wore a dark suit with a tie, and two pairs of stubby gray horns protruded from his slick, blond hair. Smiling, he blinked: his pupils were long and vertical like a cat’s.

“What a hand you’ve been dealt,” the man said. “Things couldn’t have gone much worse for you.”

Where am I? Rian wanted to say, but he still felt something pressing against his throat. This is all just a dream, isn’t it?

“Maybe. Whether or not it is, who knows?” The man splayed his hands, gloved in white. “What matters is that you survived, and now the games begin.”

Games? Something about a game in a distant life—Rian remembered. There was a game he was going to play, one that he’d been looking forward to. But now there was nothing, he felt, just this strange creature resembling a vampire or a demonic butler.

“You may call me Corvis,” the butler said. “And I’d prefer you think of me as your guide.”

Oh no. This wasn’t what he thought it was, was it? That hit to the head had killed him after all, and now…

A guide to the underworld was standing before him.

“You’re not dead, Rian,” Corvis said with growing impatience. “You’re ruining the bit.” He pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment. “I don’t suppose you’ll believe me, but you’re still on Earth. It’s not that hard to understand.” He turned his head and spoke aside, “Please, if you will. It’s almost time.”

Footsteps clacked upon the void. Stepping forward was a woman dressed in flowing black and violet trimmed with gold. Standing above her ears were twin pairs of horns that bulged outward then inward before rising tall to sharpened points. Long, black hair shimmered where it slid across the jutting folds of her dress. Amethyst jewels glinted and dangled from her ears.

“Oh, how could you let this happen?” she said in mock chiding, gently shaking her head. Tsk tsk. “Letting the world take things from you like this. Doesn’t it anger you? Doesn’t it fill your heart with fury? It’s such an age-old tale. Isn’t it?”

She stepped closer, pressing a hand against Rian’s chest as she leaned over him. Her irises glowed with shifting color, pupils shaping and reshaping into fractals, sacred geometries.

“Here’s your second chance,” she said, fangs spilling over her red lips. “Your chance to take everything back. I know how much you humans just love revenge. Even if you think you don’t. It’s a primal part of yourselves that needs”—her eyes flared wide—“satisfied.”

She placed her other hand against his left shoulder, and Rian smelled something burning. Smoke rose from her palm as light seared through the cloth of his t-shirt and onto his skin. It was painless, but he felt the urge to scream as if in reflex. Yet something held his fear at a distance.

When she pulled her hand away, between the molten remains of his sleeve was a symbol etched into his shoulder: a “Y” with two extra branches splitting outward from the top pair of lines.

“She’s going to be missing when you wake up,” the woman said. “But she will be here, with me. All you have to do is…” Her hand, still against his chest—she released it, and he began to fall backwards as if that had been the only thing keeping him here.

“Return,” she said as he fell through dusty curtains of wind rising around her, a howling gale that let only her last words through: “To me.”

He fell, and the fall wasn’t stopping. In a few seconds, he knew, he was going to end up somewhere else. And when he woke up, nothing would be the same. From this sense of finality came a moment of clarity to his thoughts, everything in his life flashing before him.

He was a bit disappointed if anything. He’d only just gotten started with life, and things had really started to kick off recently. But that was how it went, he supposed. Nothing was ever fair, and disasters always seemed to strike whenever life was finally turning around. He’d really wanted to play that new game with his friends, but…

Oh my god.

Did that mean—

The realization struck him. It was really happening.

He had died and was getting reincarnated in another world. It was just like one of those old Isekai stories back from the 2010s!

He couldn’t believe it. He was going to be free.

He was finally going to live out one of his—