The dim light of a single desk lamp cast long shadows across the cluttered office. Stacks of documents teetered precariously on the edge of Leopold's mahogany desk, illuminated only by the pale glow of a computer screen. The faint hum of the air conditioning filled the room, a monotonous drone that matched the rhythm of his typing. His fingers flew across the keyboard, the clatter echoing in the stillness. Another email sent; another crisis averted—for now.
Leopold leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples as the familiar dull throb behind his eyes intensified. He hadn't slept in two days. His last meal was an energy bar hastily consumed while he skimmed a trade agreement that could make or break an entire region's economy. His suit jacket hung on the back of his chair, wrinkled and forgotten, while his tie had been loosened hours ago in a rare act of defiance against his usual meticulousness.
The phone on his desk buzzed, its vibration rattling a coffee mug dangerously close to the edge. Without looking, he picked it up and answered, his voice sharp but composed.
"Leopold speaking."
"Leo, it's bad. The trade negotiations between Vardania and Othalia are falling apart. They're threatening to pull out entirely."
The voice on the other end was frantic, a junior diplomat who clearly didn't handle pressure as well as Leo did.
Leopold closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten.
"What's the issue?"
"Othalia refuses to lower tariffs, and Vardania won't agree to any concessions unless they do. The meeting's devolved into shouting matches. They're saying if this deal falls through, sanctions are inevitable."
He pinched the bridge of his nose, the throb in his head intensifying.
"Send me the transcripts of the meeting. I'll draft a revised proposal and join the next session remotely. Give me thirty minutes."
"Understood, sir. Thank you." The relief in the junior diplomat's voice was palpable before the line disconnected.
Leopold set the phone down and stared at the screen in front of him. Thirty minutes. It wasn't much, but it would have to do. He opened the file sent by his assistant and began scanning the transcript, his mind automatically piecing together compromises and counterarguments. Years of experience as a diplomat had honed his ability to find solutions in the most tangled of disputes. Yet, even as his mind worked, a part of him couldn't ignore the fatigue that weighed heavily on his body.
A pang of longing flickered in his chest. He thought of the novels he'd left unfinished on his bedside table, tales of heroes in fantastical worlds where decisions were as clear as black and white. He thought of the strategy games gathering dust on his bookshelf, waiting for a moment of free time that would never come. If only life were that simple—a game where the rules were clear, and victory was achievable with the right moves.
His thoughts were interrupted by another buzz, this time an alert from his computer. A new message popped up: "Urgent: Updated Economic Data". He clicked it open, his eyes scanning the figures as the pieces of his plan began to fall into place. He typed furiously, drafting a revised proposal that balanced concessions with incentives, a delicate act of diplomacy that few could pull off. As the clock ticked down, he sent the document with seconds to spare.
"Done," he muttered, leaning back in his chair. For a moment, he allowed himself a sliver of pride. Another problem solved. Another crisis averted. But the satisfaction was fleeting. He knew another issue would arise before long, demanding his attention, his energy, his very soul.
His phone buzzed again. He ignored it this time, letting it rattle against the desk as he closed his eyes. Just five minutes, he told himself. Five minutes to rest. But even as he leaned back, the throbbing in his head escalated, spreading down his neck and into his chest. He opened his eyes, startled by the sudden wave of dizziness. The room spun, the shadows on the walls shifting unnaturally.
"No," he whispered, his voice barely audible. His vision blurred as the buzzing phone fell silent. His hand reached for the glass of water on the desk, but it slipped from his fingers, shattering on the floor.
As darkness closed in, his last thought wasn't of the negotiations, the crises, or the endless demands of his work. It was of the stories he'd never finished, the worlds he'd never explored, and the life he'd always longed for but never allowed himself to have.
And then, there was nothing.
Darkness. Infinite and all-encompassing.
Leopold's first sensation was a profound weightlessness, as though he were suspended in an ocean of nothingness. His mind was hazy, and time felt meaningless. Was he floating? Falling? There was no up or down, no direction to anchor himself. He tried to open his eyes, but there was nothing to see—only the vast, empty void stretching into eternity.
"Where… am I?"
His voice echoed, faint and hollow, vanishing into the abyss. Yet, even as the sound dissipated, it didn't go unheard.
A faint, mechanical hum began to resonate through the void, growing louder and more distinct. Then, a voice emerged—calm, precise, and devoid of emotion.
"Welcome, Leopold. You have been selected."
The words seemed to vibrate around him, not spoken in the traditional sense but directly imprinted into his mind. Leopold blinked, his thoughts struggling to catch up.
"Selected? For what?" he asked, his voice steadier now, though his heart raced.
"You have died," the voice stated bluntly.
"Your life as Leopold Thorne has ended. Your physical body has failed, but your consciousness remains intact. You have been deemed suitable for integration into the World System."
"Integration?" he echoed, his mind grappling with the words. His last memories rushed back—the office, the endless work, the crushing exhaustion. He remembered the pain, the spinning room, the darkness that followed. And now this?
"Hold on," he said, his tone sharpening.
"What is this… World System? And why me?"
The voice did not hesitate.
"The World System is a construct beyond the constraints of time and space. Its purpose is to create, nurture, and maintain worlds. You have been chosen as a World System User. Your mind—calculated, strategic, and resourceful—meets the criteria required for this role."
Leopold let the words sink in. Create and maintain worlds? It sounded absurd, like something out of the fantasy novels he used to read in fleeting moments of respite. And yet, here he was, in a void that defied all logic, speaking to a voice that seemed to know everything about him.
"You've got the wrong guy," he said with a wry laugh that carried no humor.
"I was a diplomat. I brokered deals. I didn't… create worlds."
"Incorrect," the voice countered.
"As a diplomat, you mediated conflicts, balanced interests, and devised long-term strategies. These skills are invaluable in managing a world. You understand the delicate equilibrium required to foster growth while avoiding collapse. This makes you an optimal candidate."
Leopold opened his mouth to argue, but the words didn't come. Was the voice wrong? He had spent his life navigating the complexities of human interaction, orchestrating peace in situations most would deem impossible. Maybe there was some truth to this… but still.
"And if I refuse?" he asked finally, testing the boundaries of this strange encounter.
"Refusal is not an option," the voice replied without malice.
"Your previous life is over. This is your next existence. Acceptance is the only path forward."
Leopold's jaw tightened, frustration flaring within him. Yet he couldn't deny the strange logic in the voice's words. There was no going back, no desk waiting for him, no emails piling up in his inbox. He had died—a fact that was becoming harder to dispute with each passing moment.
"Fine," he said at last, his tone clipped.
"Let's say I go along with this. What happens next?"
"Integration will begin immediately," the voice responded.
"You will be granted access to the World System interface, where you will design, manage, and oversee your world. However, the process requires an assistant to optimize functionality. You will now customize your companion."
Leopold blinked.
"My what?"
Before he could receive an answer, the void around him shimmered, as if ripples were forming on the surface of a black lake. A glowing interface appeared before him, its sleek design both futuristic and otherworldly. Lines of text floated in midair, accompanied by holographic icons.
COMPANION CUSTOMIZATION
Leopold stared at the glowing words, his brows furrowing. A smaller prompt expanded below:
"Select your companion's appearance, personality, and traits. This is a one-time decision."
"This feels like character creation in a game," he muttered under his breath. He hesitated, his analytical mind kicking into overdrive. If this "companion" was meant to assist him, he couldn't afford to make a hasty decision. He scrolled through the options, each more fantastical than the last.
Appearance:
Petite, with neatly styled short hair that framed her face.
Expressive crimson eyes behind round glasses.
A scholarly yet elegant outfit, blending professionalism with charm.
Personality:
Scholarly: Highly intelligent and analytical.
Cute: Playful and endearing, softening tense moments.
Yandere: Intensely loyal and occasionally possessive, ensuring undivided attention.
Traits:
Loyal, witty, and supportive.
Leopold's lips twitched as he finalized his choices.
"Alright. Let's see how this turns out."
"Confirm customization," the voice prompted.
Leopold sighed. "Confirm."
The interface shimmered, and the void around him began to glow. Slowly, a figure materialized before him, her form taking shape like a painting brought to life. When she opened her eyes, they sparkled with intelligence, framed by her warm smile and the glint of her glasses.
"Master Leopold," she said, her voice warm and teasing.
"It's a pleasure to meet you. I'll be your guide, your assistant, and… well, let's just say I'll make sure no one takes your attention away from me."
Leopold blinked, unsure whether to feel relieved or concerned.
"Right… So, what's next?"
The companion stepped closer, a playful glint in her eye.
"Now, Master, it's time to create your world."