In the heart of S City, tucked away in a high-rise building, sat a game development company. Their specialty? Simulation games. They were a fairly reputable studio in the industry—not quite a titan, but definitely not small potatoes either.
To Takaha Kuro—lead programmer—it was… a decent job. Better than the soul-crushing desk job he had in his previous life, but still far from what he'd envisioned.Yeah, that's right. Kuro wasn't exactly your average guy. He was a transmigrator.
In his previous life, he was just another nameless corporate drone. A complete nobody with a modest apartment, cheap instant noodles, and an unhealthy obsession with anime, light novels, and manga. A shut-in otaku to the bone.
And then one day—BAM! He was hit by a metaphorical truck.
Okay, not literally a Truck-kun situation. More like a drunk driver took a wrong turn and turned him into a statistic.
So naturally, when he opened his eyes in a new world, he had expectations. Surely, he'd awaken to a harem of anime girls or be chosen as a hero destined to slay a demon king, right?
Wrong.
The world he woke up in was identical to his last one. Same bland Earth, same 9-to-5 grind. And worse? Not a single cheat ability, system menu, or magical talking sword in sight. Not even a damn slime!
No, instead he was reborn into modern Japan. The only difference? He chose game development as his career—all thanks to that one anime from his past life: NEW GAME!
Biggest mistake of his afterlife.
"Anime lied to me," he muttered bitterly, tapping away at his keyboard deep into the night.
"Senpai, you're still working?" a coworker mumbled, rubbing his eyes. "It's almost 11. Aren't you gonna crash?"
Kuro glanced up, forcing a smile. "You go ahead. I'll finish up in a bit."
Around him, the office resembled a makeshift hostel. Sleeping bags poked out from under desks; people were passed out on beanbags with controllers still in hand. Everyone was dead tired.
"Man, Senpai really goes all in," the junior muttered, disappearing into his sleeping bag. "Well, it is your project after all…"
Kuro returned to his screen, watching as the final test scripts ran. Almost there. Just a bit more.
The game was his brainchild—a high-immersion, first-person, online life sim. Kind of like The Sims, but bigger, deeper, and built for VR. Multiplayer, sandbox world, dynamic AI—the works. He'd poured all his knowledge from two lifetimes into it.
Upper management loved it. They saw dollar signs. Employees loved it too—mostly because the overtime pay was phenomenal. No one was complaining.
"Not the life I dreamed of," Kuro murmured, "but hey… it's not bad."
He leaned back in his chair, stretching.
That's when fate, once again, decided to be an absolute bastard.
"Where… am I?"
Kuro opened his eyes to a room that definitely wasn't the office.
He was sitting in a fancy chair in what looked like a cathedral—or maybe a courtroom from a JRPG. The memory of his desk, his screen, and that final line of code... gone.
Footsteps echoed nearby.
He turned—and froze.
Standing before him was a vision of beauty: sky-blue hair cascading down her back, eyes like polished sapphires, legs encased in thigh-high stockings, and a mini-skirt so short it defied logic.
"Welcome, Takaha Kuro!" she beamed. "Congratulations—you're dead!"
Kuro blinked.
"I mean, sorry for your loss," she added quickly. "But yes, you just died. Poof. Gone. Welcome to the afterlife."
Any other guy might've drooled over her appearance. But not Kuro. He knew who this was. That hair. That outfit. That air of complete idiocy behind her smile…
Aqua.
The one and only useless goddess.
Kuro stared at her, emotionless.
Was he supposed to be sad? Angry? Excited? He just died—again—and the first person he saw was a fanservice-prone, airheaded deity from an anime?
"How did I die?" he asked flatly.
Aqua froze. Her confident pose faltered.
"Well, uh… funny story, actually…"
Kuro raised an eyebrow.
"I mean, you said you could handle it, right?" she laughed nervously, waving a hand. "Just… don't get mad, okay?"
He said nothing.
Aqua shifted awkwardly in her seat, legs crossed so casually it made Kuro avert his gaze for a second—only to refocus with a deadpan stare.
"You promise not to report me to the Celestial Management Office?" she asked, voice lowering.
Kuro said nothing.
She fidgeted. "Okay, okay! Here it is."
"You're not supposed to be dead," she blurted. "You were supposed to reincarnate into a totally different world. One filled with magic and adventure and… well, fanservice. You know, the usual."
Kuro narrowed his eyes.
"But! But… see, there was this paperwork issue. And another soul showed up early. I panicked, alright?!"
Her voice sped up. "I had to make a quick fix, so I... borrowed your soul and slotted you into a more convenient world. One that didn't require too much divine energy. I figured you'd get over it."
He stared at her. Smiling. A dangerous kind of smile.
"You understand, right?" Aqua said weakly. "It was just a little mix-up. You still had a job, money, hobbies… it wasn't that bad!"
"Oh, I understand," Kuro replied sweetly. "And I hope you understand…"
He stepped forward.
"…that I really, really want to punch you."
WHAM.
"OW!!" Aqua cried out, clutching her head and falling off her chair. "You said you wouldn't hit me!"
"I never agreed," Kuro said calmly. "Now, about that compensation."
He cracked his knuckles. "You owe me a proper second life."
"I refuse!" Aqua yelled from the floor. "You assaulted a goddess!"
"And you defrauded a reincarnated soul!" he snapped back.
They glared at each other.
Somewhere in the heavens, a divine HR manager sighed deeply.