“It’s an unfamiliar ceiling”

The first words I said when I woke up in a different environment had to be these, right?

The ceiling in question was quite shabby if I had to say, made of low-quality wood planks that showed many signs of wear, it threatened to be a much greater danger to the inhabitants than the rain or the wind or anything else it was supposed to protect the people living underneath it from.

“Well, g’night”

But such a small thing would not be enough to drag me out of the Dreamworld. Besides, surprisingly, the bed I fell asleep in was the same, with the same warmth and softness, so comfortable it was, that I would want to stay in its sweet and gentle embrace forever.

So comfortable~

I’ve never been in a romantic relationship in my entire life and any form of familiar love that a person my age should’ve been able to experience has never graced myself with its presence. But if I had to describe my feelings towards the comfortable gentle warmness of the covers and the slightly groggy feeling of hanging in between the state of sleeping and the state of being awake, I would definitely call it love.

Full of the overflowing feelings of affection towards the one who has been silently supporting me, literally and metaphorically, throughout the years with not a single word of complain, I hug the soft mattress with one hand and clutch the pillow close to my heart, and then I dive under the blankets into a world for only myself and my most beloved.

And it’s definitely not me trying to escape the hand poking my side while I’m trying to fall asleep yet again, okay.

I’m definitely not pretending not to hear a voice talking to me right now?

Why was that a question?

Okay, let’s not try to retort to myself. It’s neither funny nor is it any useful.

Though how is it supposed to be useful?

I wonder.

Please, whoever is poking me, stop. It’s not alright to invade another person’s personal space. Especially when they are having a romantic moment with their lover (it’s a bed though).

If you think that this kind of intrusion will make me acknowledge your existence, cease this silly act, for I shall not bend!

Straight, but not straightened.

Marcus Aurelis.

Or is it a different quote I need?

Anyway, as an uneducated brute with little passion for knowledge or self-betterment, I have my right not to use the right quotes whenever the situation calls for it!

Why does it sound so smug anyway?

Let’s not retort.

Thou shalt not retort to thyself.

My first commandment out of ten.

Now, go to the farthest lands of the Earth, my brave paladins and spread my word of wisdom to all lands where there lives man!

And I’ll sleep in the meantime.

So don’t poke my side please, Mr Hand. Or is it ms Hand? Whatever. Just don’t do it.

Sleeeep.

*Poke* **Poke*

Sleeep.

…

I have reached enlightenment. I am no longer bound by the coils of mortality and mundane affairs of man no longer matter. I have come to peace with myself and the world around me. So I’m no longer bothered by the hand poking the side of my ribcage.

*Poke*

This bastard!

…

You know, a wise man should know his limits. A wise man will admit defeat graciously step down the stage with grace. A wise man will not be petty and small-minded and will let a petty and small-minded opponent have their small, shallow victory. For a wise man is above such trivialities.

So, the wise man that is me shall make a concession and, with a tear in his eye, separate from his fate-bound lover (though it’s a bed) and will face a, pettier attention-seeking person that is so unwavering in their pursuit of my attention.

“Speak what you want, mortal! This Wise One shall let you have some of his precious time!”

“…”

“I didn’t say it out loud, right?”

“Um, no, this mortal hasn’t heard anything the Wise One said”

The middle-aged man in a baggy grey robe that has been poking a hole in my ribcage answered. I like his voice. Really mellow, really soothing. Could do well as a voice-actor.

“…”

“…”

“Good. Hello, my name Thomas May and what would be yours my good sir?”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you “Thomas”, my name is Aralthen Bo Trekkill but you can call me Ralph if you feel like it”

The man pronounced the name I said in a way that I could practically feel the quotation marks in his speech. So he probably knows that it’s not my real name or I have a persecution complex. Or any other number of reasons.

“I see. It’s nice to meet you too. I would like to ask if you know how I woke up here?”

“With a lot of effort and unwillingness”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“I see. Thank you for the insightful answer. But if I may ask another one, please tell me how I was transported here?”

It’s not a wise thing to provoke a potentially dangerous potentially unstable individual but my childish character got the best of me and for that reason, I continued the conversation in the same way I had started it.

Maybe not wise, but certainly satisfying.

“Oh, well, you see, you died”

But satisfying things aren’t always the best things. See, now that I somehow ticked this strange man off he began to threaten my life. Well, it was (not) an eventful and fulfilling one but I certainly (maybe not but I hope so) enjoyed it. So I have no regrets (I do). Well, I hope you will learn from my mistakes and not do things the way I did them.

“Why are you clutching your bed so hard?”

It’s because if I die, I want to die while being held by my most dearest.

Self-defence? You have to be kidding me. I’m weak and this person somehow transported both me and my bed in such a way that I didn’t even notice it, from my apartment on the sixth floor to a completely new place. Instead of having hopes shattered it’s better to have none to begin with you know.

Oh, well, now I’ll never know why I’ll die. I could ask, of course, but I see no reason to. If it turns out to be some silly reason it will make me sad, you know?

Come! Do your worst! No, don’t please, I’m very delicate and don’t like pain though.

“Why are you closing your eyes like that? Why does it make me feel like I’m somehow a horrible person?”

“…”

“Please open your eyes? I won’t bite. Just open them, please for a moment, okay?”

Noooope. I can already see it when he will spray some nasty stingy liquid into my eyes. I mean he transported me and I didn’t notice it. It had to be drugs, right? Very potent drugs that leave no dizziness or soreness or feeling of weakness after use. So it’s not too big of a stretch to imagine that he’ll have some other weird stuff.

“Please? I beg you!”

*thump*

See? His mood changes too quickly! It’s a serial killer with psychological problems, I tell ya!

“Come on~ Open your eyes, o~kay? Pweease?”

It’s not cute if it’s a middle-aged man speaking cute. It’s gross. I feel like my soul took some damage as well as some negative status effects.

“Pweeassse?”

Urgh. I won’t hold for much longer. Spare the torture.

“Pwe-“

“Okay okay, just stooooopppp!!!!”

“Sure. As you wish.”

And he stood up straight and began speaking like a dandy middle-aged man.

“Before you close your eyes again, please look at your hands”

I did as he said.

…

Woah. No way.

“Yes way. You died.”

My hands were transparent and left no shadow as the light passed through them.

Now that I noticed, there were other peculiarities. I can’t feel my weight, for example, or my sense of temperature is the same in every point of my body.

“I’ll give you a moment to come to terms with the fact. Call me when you’re ready.”

And he left.

After he closed the door I shouted

“Ralph, come back!”

The door opened again.

“Well, that was fast, are you sure you have accepted your death?”

“Well, I believe I have. The fact that I died, I tried to deny it, but I can’t deny what I see and feel”

“Well, if it’s so, how about you ask some questions?”

“Well, if you insist… How did I die?”

Before I was able to process what I said, I asked.

Why?

What’s the point of asking such a question?

How does it matter how you died, idiot? What matters is you… died. The rest isn’t… important. After… all… it’s… all… o-

“*sniff*”

o-

“*hick*”

Oveeeerrr!!!

“Aaaaaaaah!!!”

It’s over! Over! Why! Why is it over! I don’t want it! No! Why! I wanted to liiiiiive! Why! Why! Why!

“Aaaaaahh!!!”

Why me! I was so young! I had so much to look forward to! I haven’t done so much! Why me!

“*sob* Why… *sob* me…”

I feel Ralph’s large hand on my shoulder. The sensation is bizarre and it doesn’t feel quite right, driving the last nail into my coffin.

I spend the next several minutes getting myself together and calming down.

“I’m sorry, I’ve shown you something unsightly.”

The new sentence started with a word other than “well”

“No problems. It’s a natural reaction towards realizing such a thing.”

“Now, please tell me how I died”

I don’t need to know but I feel that knowing it will make me accept the fact of death better.

“Alright. The apartment complex you lived in, the gas line there blew up. It was an accident. You died immediately, several others died and many who got severely injured.”

Without any delay he said. I guess the last part was his subtle way to make me feel better. Misery loves company after all. To be honest, it did. It made me feel a bit worse about the type of person I am, but I’ve always lived with the realization that I wasn’t the best and finest of men.

“Second question. Where is this place? And third, Who are you?”

“It’s my home? Well, it’s something like a home I guess. And I am. Well, don’t panic, don’t be afraid, I need you to face it with a cool head”

“Is it something that scary? The more you say the more it makes me feel afraid”

“It isn’t scary and you aren’t in any danger but it will still unnerve you greatly. Prepare, I, am a demon”

“… So?”

“You aren’t afraid? Your culture has a lot of stories and beliefs that I expected would make you panic”

“No, I mean, I know I wasn’t a good person and I’ve done a lot of evil things. I don’t want to face eternal suffering but even if I don’t, what will it change? I will have to go anyway, I presume, so I can only steel my heart. I must thank you though, for being so considerate to me so far-”

“That. That was exactly what I wanted to avoid. Relax, you aren’t going to Hell, “Thomas”, or should I call you Victor?”

“Call me Vic. I’m not that much of a great man to be called a victor, more so a victor with a great “V” I guess. And does it mean I won’t go to Hell? So, I wasn’t a sinner enough?”

“Um, I am not very sure about the existence of the things like Heaven, Hell and other such things, at least I’ve never seen or interacted with them.

I am a demon and so were probably some demons from literature and some concepts do overlap, but I am not a scary goat-like person with a pitchfork that likes to punish transgressors against the Divine.

I guess I do come from a place like Hell but it’s more of a game-like place with many monsters and other demons. The Demon Realm, the Infernal Planes, the Infernal Legion. That’s how we call it. And I’ve not seen any souls being tormented there last time I checked.

Well, as for the kind of person you were, well, I won’t judge?”

“I see. Um, and why am I here?”

“You see, I brought your soul here. I want you to be transmigrated into another world. Consider it an experiment by me. You don’t have to worry, it won’t be painful or have any strange side-effects.”

“Why me? And what do I have to do? And what kind of world is that?”

“You were the most fitting for transmigration back in your Realm. Do whatever you like, just get stronger. Remember those web-novels you read about being transported into a magical world? Well, surprisingly, it’s something like that. Almost exactly like that. Very odd, but convenient so I won’t question this setting.”

“A demon reading web-novels… Besides, what kind of demon are you? You have said that you are somehow similar to the demons I know of but how? What is a demon anyway?”

“I have many thousands of avatars in different Realms and I have moments of curiosity sometimes. The rest of the questions will be for later. I will leave you a way to contact me. Some avatar of mine will most likely be there to answer. Don’t be reserved with the questions I won’t mind answering them. For the most part, probably.”

“I see. So, when and how will we get started then?”

“Soon, I’ll have to prepare for your transmigration first.”

“You said transmigration, sorry for the interruption, does it mean, um, that I will have to possess somebody? And what about the language, or the general information on the world, or Realm, or wherever you want to send me?”

“No problem, I said it already but don’t be reserved with the questions. Well, I’ll make a new body for you. Your soul will adapt better to it anyway. As for the rest, well, I’ll give you the [skills] necessary and you always have the option to call and ask things. Don’t worry, I’ll give you the starter pack”

“Skills, or SkIils,shkiils, how did you say it so weirdly? It sounds like a game”

“It’s one of the benefits of being a demon, or an Eternal One for that matter. I can say things with strange effects because of my mind’s aura. Things like this or this or this or even this. Just a funny gimmick. And it is like a game, I agree. Just like in those web-novels, didn’t I tell you?”

YES! It’s so amazing! To think such a thing could exist!

I pinched myself to tell that it’s not a dream but after getting a strange and uncomfortable feeling I was reminded of the reality.

Oh well, nothing I can do about it, especially after knowing that I’ll be getting my new body soon.

Lucky~

I hope. I mean I am dealing with a demon and not to be racist (is demon even a race I wonder?) they don’t have the greatest reputation.

Well, not like I can do much about it, so I’ll entrust myself to Ralph.

To give up one’s freedom to avoid responsibilities, isn’t it what we humans are best at?