A voice, low and rich with barely restrained amusement, cut through the sterile silence of the office.
"I've got it, Sancha. I've come up with the most ingenious idea~!"
The words lingered, heavy yet bizarrely lighthearted, as if spoken by someone entirely detached from the seriousness of the claim.
Sancha froze mid-typing, his fingers hovering over the translucent keyboard. His eyes darted nervously toward the source of the voice—a figure seated at the far end of the spacious, clinical office. For a moment, Sancha didn't dare move, hoping to convince himself he'd misheard.
But no. The voice came again, a singsong cadence laced with a sinister undertone.
"This one, Sancha, this one will solve everything. Oh, don't look so nervous; come closer! I promise I won't bite. Violence is not part of my style."
Sancha reluctantly turned his head, the chair squeaking under him. Behind the polished ebony desk, surrounded by an immaculate array of stacked translucent papers and glowing displays, sat the manager of the Death and Rebirth Department.
Approximately 165 centimeters or 5 feet 4 inches tall, the manager was an enigma wrapped in a paradox, dressed in pristine corporate attire that somehow made his presence even more unnerving. His long, straight silver hair cascaded like liquid moonlight down to his shoulders, shimmering with an unnatural gleam.
He possessed thick, starkly white eyelashes framed eyes that were perpetually closed, adding a mystique that only deepened the unsettling charm of his sharp, beautiful, almost feminine face—his lightly tanned skin glowed faintly under the sterile office lights.
Sancha's gaze fell to the name tag pinned neatly to the manager's blazer.
'Surreal', it read in bold, formal letters—a name that suited the man almost too perfectly.
And he is the protagonist of this story.
I'm not paid enough to do this, was the sentence that popped inside Sancha's mind.
For the past few days, Surreal had been… off. Not that he was ever particularly normal, but his behavior had become increasingly erratic. As his assistant, Sancha had been privy to more than one bizarre outburst, each one worse than the last.
Yet this time, there was a new edge to Surreal's voice—a feverish delight that sent a shiver down Sancha's spine.
"Manager Surreal," Sancha began cautiously, forcing a smile that barely reached his eyes. "Is there something you'd like to discuss? I noticed you've been a bit… creative lately."
Surreal leaned forward, propping his chin on his gloved hand. His closed eyes curved into what could only be described as a serene, almost angelic smile. "Creative? Oh, Sancha, you flatter me. But no, this isn't just some creative idea. This is brilliance incarnate. Divine inspiration! You're not going to want to miss this~!"
Sancha sighed internally. He's gone completely mad, he thought. One too many late nights, maybe? Or perhaps the weight of managing humanity's death and rebirth statistics has finally snapped him in half. Either way, he's going to lose his position soon if the rumor is true. Maybe even today.
Still, Sancha extended an ear. Perhaps out of morbid curiosity or a lingering sense of duty, he decided to let Surreal have his moment. "Alright," he said, cautiously approaching the desk. "I'm listening. What's this divine idea of yours?"
Surreal's smile widened, impossibly serene. "You see, Sancha, I've recently been chosen by… let's call it a divine force. A godly something or someone who, for reasons beyond our mortal understanding, entrusted me with a rather monumental task. Care to guess what it is?"
Sancha's brow furrowed. He stayed silent, not daring to play along with what was surely a descent into madness.
"Oh, don't be so dull," Surreal chided, his voice dripping with theatrical disappointment. "Fine, I'll tell you~
"The mission is to preserve humanity from total extinction, threatened by the upcoming threat of alien invasion coming from another dimension." There was not a single hesitation in Surreal's words. "Noble, isn't it? Save everyone, be the hero, blah blah blah, even though I'm just a normal human being…
"But here's the kicker, Sancha—if I refuse, I suffer eternal damnation! Oh, and every time I fail, my life resets back to the moment I was given this responsibility, which is just cruel and unforgiving." Surreal snapped his finger into a finger-gun gesture. "You see why this is a big deal, Sancha? That's the situation that I'm currently in, right now~"
Sancha blinked. "That's... quite a story, Manager Surreal. Have you considered taking a day off?"
"Ah, Sancha. Always the pragmatist," Surreal chuckled, waving a gloved hand dismissively. "But no, no, no. There's no time for frivolities. Besides, I haven't even told you the best part."
Sancha hesitated. Something about the way Surreal's smile didn't falter, the way his eyes remained serenely closed all the time while saying the most absurd things, made him wary. "And what's the best part?"
Surreal tilted his head, his smile taking on a predatory edge. "You're standing awfully far away, Sancha. Come closer. I'm not going to kill you. That would be ridiculous." His chuckle afterward was soft, almost musical.
Hearing that, Sancha stayed rooted to the spot instead. "I think you really need a paid leave, Manager. I can try vouching the executives in your name, if you want…"
"Oh, come now," Surreal cooed. "What's wrong? It's not like you can die anyway."
The casual remark sent a chill down Sancha's spine. "Even then, it doesn't guarantee my safety. Also, you're basically implying that you're really going to kill me if I step even closer."
Surreal clicked his tongues, "Tsk, tsk, I see you've forgotten, even though you're my assistant… Allow me to remind you of our company's corporate greatness," he said, leaning back in his chair with the air of a professor who was about to lecture. "We're in the Death and Rebirth Department of the World Peace Corp., Sancha! The cornerstone of humanity's greatest achievement! We've harnessed the concept of the soul itself, transforming life and death into manageable statistics. In this new era, nobody truly dies. Instead, our lives become assets, easily revived and redistributed like... inventory.
"Those who have proven to contribute greatly in our cause will receive a second life right out of the bat. Those who don't? They get sent to a digital hell and mine crypto currency for us. Isn't that just wonderful?
"To refresh even further, our company's employee benefits extend the same way. And the process is also very reliable, with a 102% chance of success, and 4% margin of error~!
"So you don't need to worry about anything. Even if you somehow die an accidental death, you'll just revive~ That is, if you even managed to die through the regeneration nanites…"
Sancha swallowed hard, maintaining his service smile in front of this maniac of his superior, trying his best to change the subject, "It's a truly impressive and monumental achievement for the company, Manager Surreal, especially for humanity as a whole."
"Oh, but you don't look impressed," Surreal pouted, rising from his chair in one fluid motion. His elegant and slender frame seemed to glide more than move. His pristine suit was utterly unmarred as he approached Sancha. "Well, seeing that you're still putting doubt at the very company you worked for—allow me to demonstrate."
Before Sancha could react, Surreal's gloved hand shot forward, plunging into his chest with terrifying precision.
Blood blossomed, staining the manager's pristine attire as Sancha staggered backward, gasping for air.
The pain was blinding, his vision swimming as he stared at the crimson soaking into Surreal's arm that was still lodged into his chest.
"I'm serious from the start to finish about being cursed to save the trash bin that is humanity, you dolt." Surreal tilted his head, his serene smile never wavering. "And this isn't my first rodeo. I've tried saving this god-forsaken world countless times. Each attempt was more futile than the last, all because the rest of humanity was so insufferably self-sabotaging, planting mines and trenches in front of the clear path I steered with all my might.
"Believe or not, of all the darndest attempts I made, you humans have more or less become your own god-awful enemy, and there is nothing I can do as a single individual to keep those foolish sides of society and the greedy corporate overlords in the same, goddamn barn.
"Not to mention, humanity being this giant bulk that encompasses a whole planet is making something, or someone, really want to off us all dead…
"So, I've come to a new conclusion, Sancha—if my task is to preserve the untamed collection of idiots that is humanity from total annihilation, then I'll simply… reduce humanity to a single, reliable, and amazing representative. Me.
"Ingenious, isn't it~?"
Sancha tried to speak, but his breath came in shallow, ragged gasps. "You're… insane…"
"No, Sancha," Surreal replied, almost sweetly. "I'm Surreal."