18 years old. I was a completely average guy - and in my country, that wasn't a good thing.
Turning 18 here wasn't some exciting "welcome to adulthood" moment like in the movies. No, here it meant you were on the military's radar. And the military didn't exactly ask nicely.
Yesterday, one of my neighbors - a guy who'd already been deployed twice - was called for a third round. He didn't want to go. I was lying in bed when I heard shouting from outside.
Curious, I pushed my curtain aside and peeked out.
"I DON'T WANT THIS!" he screamed, his voice cracking with desperation.
Three men in military uniforms were dragging him out of his house. He was kicking and twisting like an animal caught in a trap, but they shoved him into a black car with tinted windows. Just like that, gone.
I let the curtain fall back into place, my stomach heavy with dread.
Our country had been at war for years. Nobody even remembered what started it anymore. And now that I was 18, conscription had become one of my biggest worries. I didn't want to die for this place. I didn't want to "serve my nation." I wanted to stay home, play video games, and maybe jerk off if I was feeling motivated.
And honestly? The biggest reason I didn't want to go was my depression. If they threw me into some foreign place surrounded by strangers, I'd probably take the nearest gun and save the enemy the trouble.
I'd tried to find an "essential" job so they wouldn't be able to draft me. Sent out over 15 applications. All rejected. Not even a "maybe." Just clean, polite "no's" and sometimes not even that.
Even though I was just average, I did notice some girls giving me looks sometimes. Maybe I'd lucked out in the face department. That was the only thing genetics had handed me - I wasn't tall, I wasn't built, and I sure as hell didn't radiate confidence. Skinny little rat, that was me.
If I worked out and had a job, maybe I'd feel better about myself. But I didn't care enough to try. Most days I stayed inside, playing games and drinking energy drinks until my skin turned pale enough to make me look like a ghost in the mirror. My body felt drained all the time. Not tired - just… empty.
"Hah," I muttered one night, staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. "I wouldn't date me if I was a girl. And I wouldn't hire me if I owned a company."
I gave up on myself. Fully. I decided I was one of those people who just wasn't meant to be loved, and I started telling myself I didn't even want it. But every time I went to the supermarket for more drinks, I'd see couples holding hands, smiling, laughing. My stomach would twist.
Love, from what I'd heard, was like a constant dopamine rush. And I was a dopamine addict already - energy drinks, porn, weed - so of course I wanted it. But the more I wanted it, the more impossible it felt.
When I wasn't on my PC, I was on my phone. Sometimes I'd check the profiles of my old friends. People I hadn't talked to in years. They were still the same at their core - not bad people - but I didn't feel like I belonged around them anymore. So I stopped trying. Watching them succeed from a distance just made me feel more pathetic.
It all piled up - little frustrations, wasted time, silent days - until I cracked. One night, I had a full mental breakdown. The kind where you don't even care if someone hears you. Crying turned into screaming. My voice scraped my throat raw, but I didn't stop. The tears were hot and constant, like they'd been waiting years to get out.
My life felt like a nightmare I couldn't wake from.
And I was done with it.
I remembered I still had some shrooms left over from the last time I'd gone into the forest near my house. Psilocybin mushrooms - the "magic" kind. People online talked about "breakthrough trips" that could change your life or heal depression. I didn't believe in that crap, but I didn't care anymore.
I grabbed the small plastic bag from my drawer. They were dry and wrinkled, like little alien corpses. Without thinking, I popped them into my mouth and chewed. Bitter. Earthy. Disgusting. I swallowed fast, chasing them with warm water.
At first, nothing happened. I sat back in my chair, staring at my computer screen, scrolling aimlessly. But after a while, the edges of the room began to bend. My monitor seemed to breathe. The air in my lungs felt heavier, like I was inhaling syrup.
Then, a voice echoed in my head.
It wasn't mine.
"System restored. User has been awakened."
My skin prickled.
"Skill given - User has been granted Tempus Fractura."
I blinked, trying to process. Tempus… Fractura? Latin? Something about time? Breaking time?
My heart suddenly clenched - hard. A stabbing pain shot through my chest like a thousand knives stabbing all at once. My breath caught in my throat. I clawed at my shirt.
The world around me darkened. My vision swirled like someone had grabbed reality and twisted it into a spiral. My ears rang. My tongue felt thick. Foam bubbled in my mouth. I tried to stand, to force myself to throw up, but my legs didn't respond.
And then… nothing.
Light. Blinding, pure white light. It was like staring into the sun, only I couldn't look away.
A shape moved inside it. A woman - brunette, beautiful, the kind of beauty that made you forget how to breathe. My chest tightened in a different way.
Was she the girl I should've married? Was this God showing me what my life was supposed to be like if I hadn't eaten those mushrooms?
But even if it was, I already knew… there was no going back. I couldn't change anything. My thoughts fractured, my emotions boiled over, and I screamed - a raw, ugly sound. Tears burned trails down my cheeks.
Another figure appeared in the light. This one older. Late forties, maybe fifties. Her expression was calm, but her eyes… her eyes looked at me like she'd been waiting.
She reached forward. Her hand touched my cheek.
I reached up to push her away - but my hand was tiny. Small, soft. A baby's hand.
That's when it hit me.
Reincarnation. Like in the anime I used to binge until 3 AM.
Was this it?
Was this finally my chance to live the life I always wanted?