A baby, as pretty as a picture but with an annoyed look on his face, is perched on the edge of a carriage, staring toward the bookworms (readers).

"So, you must be wondering why I'm here. Well, it's bothersome to tell, but to progress the story, I'll explain."

(Flashback)

In a dorm room, a boy in his late teens lies on his bed, contemplating his life. He wasn't good-looking, but he wasn't plain either. Three beds line the room, but he's alone in his thoughts.

"Looks like these guys will be out late again," he sighs, his solitude palpable. "If only I had people to hang out with. If only I had made the right choices in life."

Suddenly, a girl's voice echoes in his head, interrupting his thoughts.

"I can make your wish a reality if you want?" the voice offers, catching the boy off guard.

"Am I hallucinating?" the boy mutters, scanning the room for the source of the voice.

"No, you are not," the voice replies, its tone steady and clear.

"No, I'm damn sure I can hear a voice in my head. But who is it?" the boy wonders aloud, his curiosity piqued.

"You could say I am a child of a god," the voice reveals, hinting at its divine origins.

"Wait, you can hear me?" the boy asks, surprised by the revelation.

"You bet," the voice responds smugly, enjoying the boy's astonishment.

"Wait, more importantly, if you're a child of a god, doesn't that mean you're a god yourself?" the boy inquires, his mind racing with possibilities.

"That's not how it works," the voice stutters, attempting to clarify the situation.

"I see. You must have had it rough, then. Since your parents are gods, you must have been expected to become a god yourself. Can't even imagine the pressure," the boy sympathizes, momentarily forgetting his own troubles.

"Are you an idiot? You're hearing a voice in your head, and rather than questioning your sanity, you're asking about my childhood?" the voice scolds, annoyed by the boy's line of questioning.

"Well, I've seen worse things in life. Fine, tell me, what were you talking about again?" the boy responds, his smile betraying his amusement.

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"Do you want another chance in life? A life without regrets. A life where you are someone," the voice offers, presenting a tantalizing proposition.

"As if that's possible," the boy scoffs, skeptical of the idea.

"It is if you want it to be. I can make it happen," the voice insists, its tone persuasive.

"When are you gonna shut up? I already have my share of problems to deal with. The last thing I want is to hear a voice talking bullsh—" the boy starts, his frustration mounting.

"That's what I'm saying. Have another chance in life. There will be no problems then," the voice interjects, trying to appeal to the boy's desires.

"Fine, I'll do it," the boy concedes, succumbing to the voice's persistence.

"Then you must pay the price," the voice states, its tone solemn.

"What? You're the one who asked me if I want another chance in life or not. Now you're saying that I have to pay a price too?" the boy protests, his agitation growing.

"Kid, nothing is free in this life. Pay the price and have your another chance in life," the voice advises, attempting to soothe the boy's frustration.

"What if, after you do your job, you won't uphold your end of the promise?" the boy questions, his doubts lingering.

"A pact will be made which rules out me not keeping my end of the deal," the voice assures him, dispelling his concerns.

"So, what's this 'price' of yours?" the boy inquires, resigned to accepting whatever terms are presented to him.

"It's nothing hard. All you need to do is become my apostle and do some of my errands for me. In return, I'll turn back time and make you born again. With that, you can erase your regrets," the voice explains, outlining the terms of their agreement.

"Me? Doing errands? No-no. I shouldn't get worked up. It may hurt my pride, but I guess I should do as she says for the time being," the boy rationalizes, reluctantly accepting the terms.

"I see. Fine, then I'll do your errands for the next five years of my life while I go to preschool. Come to think of it, it's not that bad—" before he can finish his sentence, the voice interrupts him.

"Well, you see, this job of mine will take some time," the voice reveals, dropping a bombshell on the boy's plans.

"And how long is that exactly?" the boy asks, his curiosity piqued.

"The thing is, this job of mine is in another world," the voice announces, surprising the boy with her revelation.

"Another world?" the boy exclaims, his mind reeling with possibilities. "Wait a minute, if I am not... no, no, senile, this may actually be better for me. I shouldn't make this annoying voice angry at me and have her transmigrate my soul to another world. Then maybe I—"

*Cough-Cough* the voice interjects, bringing the boy back to reality.

"Does that thing really exist?" the boy asks, suddenly unsure of himself.

"You believe that—huh? You sure do understand the extent of my powers," the voice boasts, reveling in the boy's newfound faith.

"It sure does, and I will transport you there," the voice confirms, its pride evident in her tone.

"So, there is another world, and all I need to do is one job. This task isn't hard at all. Maybe I will be the next king or be a slime—" the boy muses, his imagination running wild.

"I agree it will be tough, but I will do it," the boy states hastily, eager to embark on his new adventure.

"You sure? You can't go back on your word," the voice reminds him, sealing their agreement.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll do it," the boy reassures her, his excitement building.

"Alright, the pact has been made. We may meet soon," the voice concludes, setting their plan into motion.