It was a scorching summer afternoon, the temperature nearly hitting 50°C.
Inside, Ren sat glued to his computer, eyes locked on his anime marathon as sweat slowly pooled under his arms.
His room looked like a mini library, if libraries had zero organization and an abundance of manga towers leaning like they were ready to collapse at any moment.
Humidity hung thick in the air, making it feel even hotter than outside.
Knock! Knock!
A voice called from behind the door. "Ren, open up!"
Ren groaned, not moving an inch. "Mom, I'm not going outside! You've got to stop trying to make it happen; I've told you a thousand times already."
He finally dragged himself up from his chair, hastily shoved some stray wrappers and empty soda cans under his bed, and cracked open the door. "Look, Mom, I don't wanna go."
She gave him her classic I'm-your-mother-so-I-win look. "You need to go out and feel alive, Ren. It's unhealthy to stay in this cave of yours.
You can't even walk straight with all these books lying around like booby traps! Go out, or I'll be cutting off next month's pocket money."
Ren hesitated, doing a mental tally of the manga releases coming up next month. The new edition of Dragon Empire was practically calling his name, and he couldn't risk missing it.
"Okay, okay. I'll go to Kael's house, maybe grab something to eat. I'll be back in an hour."
Mom gave him a triumphant smile. "Have a nice day, then!"
Ren rolled his eyes, stepping into the hot, sticky air outside and muttering under his breath, "Yeah, a real nice day… Just me, Kael, and third-degree sunburn."
As Ren walked along the sidewalk, a bicycle whizzed past him, brushing his shoulder. It was one of those delivery guys, pedal-pushing like his life depended on it.
Ren didn't bother to shout, but he muttered a curse under his breath,
Seriously? Pedal faster, why don't you—
He didn't want to make a scene, but this day was already testing his patience.
After a solid fifteen minutes of trudging through the heat, Ren spotted a vending machine. He stopped in front of it, eyeing the cold drinks inside.
I should've stayed home, he muttered,
reaching into his pocket for his wallet. Empty, He checked his other pocket. Also empty.
A sarcastic grin flickered on his face. "Ah, yes, the mystical art of Wallet Vanishing. Should've majored in that."
Then, it hit him. "Wait… didn't I bring my wallet?
That delivery guy—when he brushed past me…" He shook his head,
remembering that the restaurant down the street had red-boxed delivery bikes just like the one that nearly ran him over.
"Oh, perfect," Ren grumbled, clenching his fists in mock triumph.
"Not only do I get to suffer in the heat, but I get my pocket picked by a wannabe Tour de France cyclist."
He started heading toward the restaurant, muttering to himself, "Today just keeps getting better.
If he works there, I am definitely filing a complaint."
With a sigh, he picked up the pace, already rehearsing his speech to management. I'll make him regret ruining my day.
After a few more minutes of dragging himself through the blazing heat, Ren finally saw the restaurant. "Ah, thank god, it's open," he muttered.
As he got closer, he spotted the same guy on the bike—the delivery thief. The guy locked eyes with Ren, panic flaring across his face, and then turned and bolted.
"Oh, great," Ren muttered, breaking into a sprint. "First he was a cyclist, now he's a marathon runner. Somebody give this guy a medal already!"
Ren started running behind the guy,
He wasn't entirely sure why he was chasing the guy in this heat, but the irritation had taken over. Each step made him rethink this plan, but he kept pushing himself to catch up, ignoring the sweat streaming down his face. His mind was on autopilot until—
Thud.
All at once, the world went dark, and Ren's body hit the concrete. He tried to mumble, "Orange juice…" but only got halfway through before everything faded to black.
Around him, people started gathering, and in the distance, the faint sound of sirens began to echo.
---
Ren stirred, slowly waking up with a groan. "Ugh… why do I feel like I got drop-kicked by a someone?" He rubbed his shoulder, his memory was hazy. He vaguely recalled flying through the air—or maybe that was just my imagination, he thought.
But then he noticed his surroundings. He was in a strange, pristine white room, and in the center sat a throne that gleamed with a bright, golden glow.
"Is that made from… gold?" he muttered to himself. Oh, fantastic, now I'm hallucinating.
"Hey, Ren, hope you're doing okay," said a soft, angelic voice close to his ear.
He practically jumped out of his skin. "Who—who are you?" he stammered, looking around wildly.
The voice giggled. "Me? I'm Seraphina, goddess of rebirth and divine intervention."
Ren's eyes darted to the throne. There she was, sitting like royalty, was a woman with an otherworldly presence, her gaze commanding and amused. She looked down on him with an expression that seemed to say You're welcome.
Seraphina cleared her throat and launched into a detailed explanation of his situation—how he had apparently died, how she had intervened, and how he'd been granted another chance to live in a different world, complete with a "new and improved" body blah blah blah,
Ren stared at her blankly, a smile starting to tug at his lips. Of course, he thought. This is totally normal. Just another Tuesday, really.
Seraphina, noticing his unimpressed expression, continued, her tone slightly exasperated, "…and that's how I saved you. You'll get a new life in a brand-new world."
Ren crossed his arms, still smirking. "So, you're telling me I'm dead? Just like that?"
"Yes," she replied, her tone flat.
"Well, that's… awesome." He rolled his eyes. "Dying over a stolen wallet. Really living up to my potential here."
Ignoring her completely, he muttered to himself, "First I get chased by a wannabe delivery ninja, then I get mugged, and now I'm in purgatory with Miss Golden Throne here—"
Seraphina's eye twitched. With a flash of irritation, she snapped, "Listen here, you little mortal. This isn't about your mundane complaints!"
Ren raised an eyebrow, suppressing a grin. Well, he thought, at least things are getting interesting.