My name is Yu Zihan. I don't know if that name means much now, but for most of my life, it was the only thing about me that felt… normal. Everything else? Not so much.

Even as a kid, I stood out in ways that made people uncomfortable—not in the loud, attention-seeking kind of way, but in the kind that made you look twice and wish you hadn't. It wasn't anything I did on purpose. I just… saw things other people didn't.

When I was six, I remember sitting in the living room, watching cartoons while my mom cooked in the kitchen. I turned my head and saw a man standing in the hallway. He wasn't doing anything, just standing there, still and quiet, like he belonged.

"Who's that?" I asked, pointing.

My mom froze. She came to look, her hands still damp from washing dishes, but there was no one there. "There's no one, sweetie," she said with a nervous smile.

"But I saw him," I insisted.

"Your imagination's just playing tricks on you," she said, but her voice was a little too bright, a little too forced. She didn't believe me, but she didn't not believe me either.

That kind of thing happened a lot. Shadows flickering at the edges of my vision, shapes where there shouldn't be any. At first, I thought it was normal, like how some people see spots when they're tired. But no one else seemed to see what I saw.

It wasn't just that, though. I could sense things too—like when someone was about to call my name. I'd turn around just before they spoke, like I already knew they were going to. Or how I'd avoid certain streets or buildings without knowing why, only to hear later that something terrible had happened there—a car crash, a robbery, a fire.

Then there were the whispers.

I hated the whispers the most. They were quiet, just a soft murmuring at first, like static in the background. But the more I listened, the more I realized they weren't random. They were words. Thoughts. Other people's thoughts.

It was exhausting, always hearing things I wasn't supposed to hear. People think the worst things. Disturbing, selfish and mean things. Stuff they'd never say out loud. I learned to tune it out eventually, but by then, the damage was done.

The other kids avoided me. They didn't know why, but they could tell something was off. I didn't mind. Friends seemed like a lot of work anyway. My parents didn't handle it much better. They tried to act normal, but I'd catch them whispering late at night.

"He's just different," my dad would say, trying to sound optimistic.

"He's not normal," my mom would reply. "What are we supposed to do?"

I didn't hate them for it. They didn't know any better.

When I turned ten, I'd figured out the problem: people didn't like what they didn't understand. If I wanted them to stop looking at me like I was some kind of freak, I had to give them something they could understand. So I did.

I learned how to smile the right way, laugh at the right jokes, say the right things. I learned how to blend in.

By the time I hit high school, I'd perfected the art of being normal. Scratch that—I wasn't just normal. I was perfect. Teachers loved me, classmates wanted to be me, and my parents couldn't stop bragging about me.

I had friends—too many, honestly—and a steady stream of admirers. Life was good. Or, at least, it looked good from the outside.

To me, it was boring.

You know how some people say life is a game? For me, that wasn't just a metaphor. It felt like a game, one where I already knew all the rules and how to win. People are easy to figure out when you can hear their thoughts. They tell you exactly what they want you to be, and all you have to do is play along. It's not hard.

The problem is, when you're always winning, the game stops being fun.

I remember standing on the balcony of my apartment one night, looking out at the city lights. I was nineteen, already rich from a few investments I'd made after picking up some useful information from someone's stray thoughts. I had everything people said you were supposed to want—money, friends, admiration—and yet, I felt… nothing.

I don't belong here. I never did.

I wasn't exactly known for being approachable. People said I was distant, hard to get close to. Not to my face, of course, but I heard it in their thoughts. It didn't bother me. They weren't wrong.

One of my admirers, though, didn't take rejection well. He was one of those people who thought persistence was romantic, like if he just tried hard enough, I'd eventually fall for him. So I guess when I turned him down he didn't take it lightly.

A few days later, he invited me out for coffee. He said he wanted to talk, to have a "closure".I wasn't worried. People like him were all the same—dramatic but harmless.

We met at a quiet café, one of those cozy places with soft music and warm lighting. He smiled at me when I arrived, but his thoughts were louder than usual, buzzing with things he didn't dare say out loud.

"I just wanted to talk," he said, sliding a cup of coffee across the table.

I took a sip, not thinking much of it. "About what?"

He hesitated, his hands fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve. "About us. About why it didn't work."

"There was no us." I said.

I wasn't trying to be cruel, just honest.

His face fell, but his thoughts stayed sharp.

"You're too perfect," he said finally, his voice low. "It's almost inhuman, how perfect you are. I just… I wanted to keep you for myself, even if it's selfish."

And then he said it. "If I can't make you stay, at least I can make sure you won't leave for anyone else."

I froze, the cup halfway to my mouth. It wasn't the words themselves that shocked me, it was how calm he sounded when he said them. Like he'd made peace with it.

The realization hit me all at once. I looked down at the coffee in my hand, then back at him. "You put something in there?"

He flinched, guilt and relief flashing across his face. "I didn't want to," he said quietly. "But if I can't have you, I can't let anyone else have you either."

I didn't feel anger. I didn't feel fear. If anything, I was…impressed.

"Not bad," I murmured. "Didn't see that one coming."

The poison worked fast. My vision blurred, my chest tightened, and I felt my limbs go heavy. I leaned back in my chair, letting it happen.

To be honest? I wasn't upset. I'd done everything I set out to do. I was rich, admired, and successful. What else was there?

As the darkness closed in, I just smiled.

And then, nothing.

---

When Yu Zihan opened his eyes, he wasn't in the café anymore—or anywhere, really. Everything was dark and quiet, like the whole world had vanished. There was no floor, no sky, no walls, just… nothing.

For a moment, Yu Zihan just floated there—or at least, it felt like floating. He couldn't feel his body, but he knew he was still himself. That was something.

"So this is what death looks like." he muttered to himself.

"Not quite!" a cheerful voice piped up out of nowhere.

Yu Zihan turned his 'head' toward the sound. A tiny orb of light appeared in front of him, glowing softly in the void.

"Hi there!" the orb chirped. "And wow, you're way calmer than most people!" Usually, I get screaming, crying, 'What's happening to me?!'—the whole dramatic package."

He blinked—or he would've, if he still had eyelids. "What are you?"

"Oh! Right! Introductions!" The orb spun in a little circle. "I'm System 0049, but you can call me 49. Or System. Or whatever you want, really. And as for what I am... let's just say I'm your ticket to something much more interesting than staying in this place forever."

"And what exactly do you want with me?" He asked, his voice calm and steady.

The orb bobbed up and down, like it was nodding. "Great question! So, here's the deal: your soul is super special. Most people? They die, and that's it. But you? You've got this resonance that makes you perfect for fixing some really messy situations. I mean, you practically screamed, 'Pick me!' when you showed up here."

Yu Zihan tilted his head slightly. "Messy situations?"

"Yep! Let me explain-" the orb said, its light flickering as it 'spoke'. "-The multiverse is full of worlds, each with its own story and characters. But sometimes, those stories go... sideways—villains win when they're not supposed to, heroes lose their way, that kind of thing. When the balance gets too messed up, the world itself starts to fall apart. Left unchecked, it'll eventually self-destruct. Boom. Gone."

"And you want me to fix that." He said flatly.

"Bingo!" 49 said, spinning excitedly. "But it's not about playing hero or fixing the protagonist's life, defeating the villain and all that. There are differents ways to save the world, mainly rewriting the story because it's the reason of that high imbalance and that's where you come in."

Yu Zihan 'looked' at the system. "And if I say no?"

"Well…" The orb dimmed a little, almost sheepishly. "Your soul's already bound to me, so staying in the void isn't really an option. If you don't take the job, your soul will eventually… dissolve. No afterlife, no reincarnation, no nothing. Kind of a waste, don't you think?"

"This sounds an awful lot like blackmail." Yu Zihan said, his tone dry.

"What? No! This is a partnership!" 49 said, its voice brightening again. "And I'm sweetening the deal! For every world you help stabilize, you'll earn points. Enough points, and you can trade them for rewards—wealth, power, a new life, whatever you want. You could even make your own perfect world someday!"

"And if I fail?" He asked.

49 hesitated for a moment. "Well… if you fail, the world you're in might fall apart entirely. And you? You'll take a hit too. It's not great, but hey, nothing worth having comes easy, right?"

Yu Zihan let out a soft hum. "You're good at this. Cheerful, persuasive, and just vague enough to keep me curious. All the things I like in a deal."

"Thank you!" 49 said, spinning again. "So? What do you think? Are you in?"

Yu Zihan thought it over. A second chance, new challenges, and rewards to sweeten the pot? It sounded like a good deal, but he wasn't about to dive in without some ground rules.

"I'll do it." he said finally "but I have some conditions."

"Ooh, I love conditions!" 49 said, practically glowing with excitement. "Hit me!"

"First, no micromanaging," Yu Zihan said. "If I'm doing this, I want full control over how I handle it. You can give me the rules, but I'll decide how to play."

"Fair!" the system said. "What else?"

"Second, I want complete transparency. No hiding information or giving me half-truths. If there's something I need to know, you tell me. Point."

"Hmm…" 49 bobbed thoughtfully, its light dimming and brightening like it was thinking. "Alright, deal. Anything else?"

"Not for now." Yu Zihan said, his voice even. "But if something comes up, you'll hear about it."

The system let out a soft, bubbly laugh. "Oh, you're gonna be so much fun. I can already tell."

"We'll see."He replied, with his trademark smile on his face.

"Alright, let's get started!" 49 said cheerfully. "Hold on tight—this might feel a little weird."

Before Zihan could say anything, the void around him began to ripple. The stillness vanished, replaced by the sensation of being yanked forward at breakneck speed. The darkness splintered, light pouring through the cracks like shards of glass.

"Good luck, Yu Zihan!" 49's voice rang out as the void shattered completely. "Let's make some magic happen!"

A portal appeared and then he got sucked before he could even reply.