Atop a solitary hill, an old man, seemingly no less than 80 years of age, drew his final breath in the quiet confines of his humble abode.
He had lived as a fool, blind to the meaning of love. A hardened narcissist, he trusted no one, choosing instead a life of isolation. Stubbornness defined him, an unyielding trait that no force could temper.
And so, this man—unchanged by time—passed away, unmarked by the wisdom of age and without ever knowing the touch of intimacy.
---
As fate would have it, death did not lead him where he had firmly believed it would.
When his eyes opened again, he found himself in a strange, lifeless state. He could move, yet he felt weightless, unbound by the mortal coil.
"How... amusing. What have we here?"
A voice, rich and commanding, echoed from behind. Slowly, the old man turned, his gaze settling on a figure of breathtaking beauty—the most striking being he had ever seen.
Before he could speak, the figure smiled knowingly and said, "I appear to you in the form your heart desires most. It seems that even in old age, your taste remains impeccable."
The old man frowned and finally spoke, his voice carrying both doubt and curiosity. "Are you... male or female?"
The figure chuckled softly, the sound both warm and mocking. "Me? I am what I am. A god. Gender is a construct of your kind, not ours."
"But are you a god or a goddess?"
"You humans amuse me. You divide yourselves into male and female, but such distinctions mean nothing to us. We are simply gods. The term 'goddess' is your invention."
The old man fell silent, a stray thought crossing his mind: What would this god think of humans creating more than two genders? Nah, it's a god—it probably knows already.
Ignoring the old man's musings, the god began to circle him, its gaze sharp and discerning.
"What happens after we die?" the old man finally asked, breaking the silence.
"A good question," the god replied. "Most souls follow a path of unconsciousness, walking in line toward a gate in the north. Its name is far too profound for your fragile understanding. Once they pass through, their memories are erased, and their souls are reborn into new bodies."
"An adult soul in a baby's body?"
The god smiled faintly. "Souls are timeless. They do not age. Only the vessel changes. But there are exceptions—like you. Isolated, unfulfilled, and, oh... a virgin too. Tell me, did you suffer from some mental illness? You poor soul."
The old man stifled his annoyance. This god sure likes to talk, he thought, wisely holding his tongue. Something about this being made him instinctively cautious.
Satisfied with its examination, the god turned to him. "I will grant you a wish and give you a second chance at life, in another world. A rebirth."
"Rebirth?" the old man echoed, his tone tinged with disbelief.
"Yes," the god replied, its grin widening. "Power, wealth, fame—anything you desire. Consider it a reward for your endurance over 80 long years. Speak your wish, mortal."
The old man hesitated, then knelt respectfully before the god. "Before I make my wish, may I ask your name?"
The god seemed amused by the question, pausing for a moment before answering with a mischievous smile. "I am Piphup, god of sleep and souls. Remember it well."
The old man bowed his head. "Then, O Piphup, I wish to be reborn with all my memories intact."