One Zero One_________

What a night to die. Yeah, I'm dying. And alone. Well, not exactly alone—I'm lying on a street in the middle of the city I've always despised, surrounded by people who are either puking or running away at the sight of me. I get it. I'd probably run too if I saw someone literally painting the pavement with their flesh and blood.

Sigh. I wish there were some cute girls watching; it might make this whole ordeal a little less unbearable.

Oh, there they are... and they're taking photos of me. I never imagined I could become this famous right at death's door. Go ahead, fill your galleries with the guy who got stabbed out of nowhere.

But this... this doesn't feel good at all. Dying, I mean.

But then again, maybe it's not so bad. If I die, nothing can reach me anymore. Not my debt, not the people who tried to use me. I'll finally be free.

Actually, now that the pain is numbing, it's almost... pleasant. Dying, I mean.

I wonder why I didn't choose this sooner. It seems like the perfect solution to all my problems. Maybe those people who offed themselves were onto something...

Wait.

Holy shit, does this mean I'm depressed if I think about death like this?

This is a pretty controversial topic. But if there were a debate, it wouldn't be fair. The people who disagree would always win, and those who agree... well, they can't argue because they're dead.

Ah, my vision's fading, and all the noise is disappearing.

From the start, I didn't feel it at all. Fear. I guess deep down, I've always seen this as an opportunity. After all, isn't living is just a need for everyone. Then death is a want, a way to escape the natural addiction we call life.

Man, if I could've seen the future, I might've chosen a less painful way to go. Jumping off a rooftop would've been quicker, I think.

Again, don't get me wrong, I am not recommending anybody to think my idea is good. There's so much to life than death anyway.

Someone touches my arm, pulling me out of my thoughts. "Sir, are you okay?"

It's a guy wearing a mask. He looks like the father of five. Seriously? Five kids? You must be addicted to creampie or something.

"Don't worry, the ambulance is coming. Can I help you with anything else?"

This motherfucker... Now you want to help? Well, if you really want to...

With the last of my strength, I point at my phone beside my ear and whisper, "Bro, delete my history, can you?"

The guy jumps back like I just told him I was an alien. Come on, man, it's embarrassing if the police find what's on there.

Shit, he's not going to help. Well, whatever. 

The moon mocks me, showering my face with its borrowed light. Just let it all fade to darkness, man. Just let me take a nap.

The ambulance's siren wails, getting closer. I feel relieved that they're late because now I can finally be dead.

As I've wanted for a long time.

I wonder if God is real. If He is, He'd probably just throw me into hell. I never followed His rules. Or maybe I'll be reborn in some other woman's womb, which I'd hate. Damn, if I could complain about one thing to the guy who stabbed me, it'd be that he didn't run me over with a Japanese truck. If I get to live again, I want magic and stuff, you know?

...

Why do I still have thoughts?

Just die already.

Someone grabs my arm. It must be the doctors. Go ahead, try to fix my dead body.

Drag.

Fuck.

But I couldn't be more wrong. Like some twisted psychopath, this person drags my whole body across the street, burning my skin against the rough asphalt.

It's painful. Make it stop.

I thought I was numb to this.

What's happening?

When I look down, I see myself being carried toward the ambulance. But when I look up, I see a woman with black hair, dressed like an office worker, casually dragging my corpse toward a door.

I can't speak. My mouth is filled with something I can't identify. In fact, I can't breathe. The air refuses to enter my lungs.

And my surroundings... as we move closer to the door, everything around us turns black. It's like someone's erasing the world, painting it into pure nothingness. The people, the cars, the moon—all gone.

"From the deep abyss of time..."

The woman dragging my body speaks. Her voice is sweet and alluring, like a song my ears have been waiting to hear.

"I have found you."

My head feels... elongated, as if time itself is squeezing it. I can feel my eyes blinking, each second stretching into an eternity. The burning sensation spreads, making the pain linger.

But then, something else catches my attention.

Imagine my surprise when I see something other than darkness. There's white—a single line, forming into shapes. Circles and rectangles. Then color seeps in, spreading through the void like drops of paint in water. Red, green, and blue. These outlines and colors combine, creating a window holding a soft blue sky and puffy white clouds. More shapes follow, forming a place. It's like I'm inside a living painting. If that's true, then I'm in a painting of a hallway. At the end of it is a door with a glittering knob.

I'm no longer on the ground. I'm walking on a marble floor.

The woman is gone, replaced by a pink-haired girl who's holding my hand, dragging me forward. Her voice is softer than the woman's, but it's friendly.

The pain in my skin fades. I hear the sound of footsteps beneath me. I see the door getting closer.

But this body... I know.

It's not mine.

And my mind.

Is not mine.

_________________________________________________________________________

POV: "Who the fuck is this?"

Oh man, I'm about to lose it. Well, not literally, but I feel like I could. Who wouldn't? It's my first day on the job, and I'm about to appear as a tutor. A real job!

Just like Lilly wanted. Now she can't nag at me in our tiny apartment once her school day ends. Take that, little sister!

It's not like I struggled to find work, considering I was once the third most successful student at Acadasia. I just didn't feel like it was the right time... or maybe I was lost about what to do.

Not lazy, I hope.

But no more of that. Here I am, in my 120 Acadasia Dollars teacher attire, ready to prove to everyone how reliable I am.

Behind this door is the reconcile room I've heard about. Inside are the students I'll be tutoring. I call them targets—but don't confuse them with clients, haha—so I expect hostility. This is an all-girls school, after all. Males are rare here. Rare means easy to discriminate.

My real client is the headmaster. After several PTA discussions, they finally allowed me to teach these girls. They made it clear no one else could handle them.

The girls' grades and attendance scores are plummeting. They're the worst four students in White Book's High School.

Still, it's fascinating that the school hasn't expelled them yet.

They're called the Negative Girls. There are four of them for now. But no worries! No matter how bad they are, I believe everyone can improve! I am positive_________positive that I was supposed to die. I was bleeding out to my death, so how the hell am I still standing, breathing, blinking, twitching, heaving? Why, and how, and who are those two feminine voices whispering to me?

And what's with this memory? It's making me sick...

I feel the body... I can move it. My ears ring, and my head throbs. I crouch down, trying not to puke. There's something... a wriggling sensation digging into my brain.

Memories.

Not mine.

Whoever the hell I am now.

"S—Sunbae? Sunbae?" A warm hand touches my shoulder, and the girl in front of me turns around, "Are you okay?"

I'm not.

But I do what I've always done. "Yeah."

Only one thing makes sense right now. Death just turned away from me.