The last thing I remember of my first life was the bitter taste of lukewarm coffee and the relentless glow of a spreadsheet. My name was Akira Tanaka, I was thirty years old, and I was a corporate slave, plain and simple. For the third night in a row, I was at my desk well past midnight, chasing a deadline that felt less like a goal and more like a predator.
My world had shrunk to the size of my monitor, my life measured in quarterly reports and pointless meetings. My only escape was a tiny balcony garden, a small collection of herbs and vegetables that were likely wilting from neglect. A sharp, crushing pain suddenly blossomed in my chest, hot and insistent. My breath hitched. A heart attack? Now? But I haven't saved the file yet...
That was my last, pathetic thought. My head slumped forward, my cheek pressing against the cold, unyielding keyboard. The world of Akira Tanaka didn't end with a bang, but with the quiet hum of an office computer.
Then, there was nothing. A calm, silent void. I wasn't scared or in pain. I just... was.
"Ugh, another one. Burnout, cardiac arrest. Classic."
A voice, clear and feminine, echoed in the nothingness. I opened my eyes to a space of infinite, soft white light. Before me, sitting at a simple wooden desk, was a woman. She was breathtakingly beautiful, with hair like spun moonlight and eyes the color of a spring sky, but she was dressed in simple, earthy green robes and had an exasperated look on her face as she scribbled on a celestial clipboard.
"Hello? Where am I?" I asked, my voice sounding distant.
"The Antechamber. The space between lives," she said without looking up. "I'm one of the lesser-known goddesses, responsible for things like agriculture, nature, and general ecological balance. You, Kenji Tanaka, are dead."
I blinked, accepting the fact with a strange sense of relief. "Oh. Okay."
My placid reaction finally made her look up. She raised an eyebrow. "You're taking this well. Most souls I get are screaming about revenge or begging to go back."
"Honestly," I said with a shrug. "I was just really tired."
A smile touched her lips. "Exactly. That's why I chose you."
"Chose me? For what?"
She leaned forward, her divine boredom replaced by a spark of passion. "A new life! In a world of magic and adventure! But listen," she said, her voice dropping, "I need to be upfront. My colleagues, the God of War, the Goddess of Victory... they keep sending over these power-hungry, hyper-motivated heroes. They want to slay Demon Kings, conquer continents, build harems... It's exhausting! They trample ancient forests testing their new powers, they disrupt delicate ecosystems hunting for legendary beasts. Nobody ever stops to appreciate the simple beauty of the world!"
She stood up, her eyes gleaming. "But you, Kenji Tanaka! I looked at your soul. No grand ambitions, no lust for power. Your deepest, purest joys came from successfully growing a tomato on your tiny apartment balcony. You're not a hero. You're a gardener! And my world desperately needs more gardeners."
I was stunned. I wasn't chosen for my valor or potential, but because I was a tired office worker who liked plants.
"So," she said, her smile warm and genuine. "I am offering you a second chance. A fresh start in this new world. You can have any power or gift you desire. Most ask for a legendary sword or infinite magic. So, what will it be?"
I thought about my old life. The stress, the loneliness, the gray concrete of the city. I thought about the simple, profound satisfaction of seeing a new leaf sprout. The answer was easy.
"I don't want a magic sword," I said, my voice filled with a certainty I hadn't felt in years. "I just want... a piece of land. Somewhere quiet and peaceful. A small house, fertile soil, and a simple life where I can grow things. That's all."
The goddess's jaw dropped. A tear of pure happiness welled in the corner of her eye.
"YES!" she exclaimed, throwing her clipboard into the air where it vanished in a shower of sparkles. "FINALLY! Someone who gets it!"
She clapped her hands, and the white void began to dissolve, replaced by the scent of fresh earth and sunshine. "Granted! And as a bonus for being the first sensible soul I've had in a century, I'm throwing in a special 'Farmer's Toolkit.' It should have everything you need. Now go, live your best, quiet life!"
A warm, golden light enveloped me, and the last thing I heard was the goddess's cheerful voice. "Oh, and do try to be nice to the local wildlife!"