The clock on the wall showed eight-thirty in the morning.
Rian stared at the ticking hands—moving as lazily as he did.
"Damn... my shift starts at eight."
He looked at the ceiling, where the paint had started peeling off.
"Well, whatever. Being late is a kind of consistency too."
He got up, his hair a mess, wearing a faded T-shirt that said "Just Survive" — a relic from a college bazaar years ago.
The moment his foot touched the floor, the wooden boards creaked as if they were sighing in sympathy.
Rian lived in a tiny rented room, barely two by three meters.
A thin mattress, an old fan that screamed louder than a protest crowd, and a single photo of his ex-girlfriend still hung on the wall.
A photo that somehow made every morning worse.
> "Good morning, Mira. Still broke, but still breathing—hope that counts for something."
No reply, of course.
Only the rhythmic drip of water leaking from the ceiling. Drip… drip… drip…
Even the world seemed to laugh at his misery.
He worked at a small motorcycle wash.
The pay was meager but enough for rent, food, and the occasional treat for Mira—
back when she was still around.
Now? Mira was gone.
Not just gone—she'd married his boss.
"Life's hilarious, huh," he muttered while slipping on his jeans, the color more faded than his future.
"I thought patience paid off, but I guess God's too busy helping someone else."
He walked through the narrow alleyway, kicking a pebble as he went.
The morning air felt heavy—not from fog, but from the invisible weight clinging to his shoulders.
At the end of the alley, he passed by his favorite fried rice stall.
But this time, he didn't stop.
His wallet was empty—
even the coins inside looked tired of living.
"Someday, when I'm rich, I'll buy the whole pan," he promised himself, though he knew full well he'd be washing bikes again tomorrow.
---
By noon, Rian arrived at work, wearing that same look of quiet resignation.
His boss, Mr. Bowo—the man he once respected like a father—was now his ex's husband.
When he saw Rian walk in, Mr. Bowo smiled too kindly.
"Rian! Late again, huh? Kids these days. But it's fine—you're a hard worker. I was young once too!"
The friendliness in his tone was too polished. Too fake.
Rian forced a grin. "Yeah, sir. Hardworking at being late."
Then Mira walked out from the back room.
She looked neat, radiant, wearing a gold ring that caught the sunlight.
Rian glanced at her briefly, saying nothing.
In his heart, only one bitter thought echoed: Love can be washed, but it never really dries.
Evening came. The workday ended.
Rian walked home under the rain.
No umbrella—but it didn't matter.
He'd been drenched in disappointment long before the rain began.
The city lights blurred through the downpour as he looked up at the cloudy sky.
> "Hey, God. I'm not asking to be rich. Not even for love.
Just... maybe a life that doesn't feel this empty."
"But if that's too hard... fine, then at least make it interesting."
The wind blew softly.
Then—ding!
A notification sound echoed from nowhere.
> [Absurd System Activated.]
[First mission: Survive for the next 10 seconds.]
Rian froze.
His eyes darted around.
"Wait—who just said that?"
No one. The street was empty.
But the voice came again.
> [9 seconds remaining.]
"What?! What's that supposed to mean?! Is this a bomb?!"
> [8 seconds.]
"Hey! Don't joke around in the middle of the street!"
> [5 seconds.]
Rian turned to his right—
Headlights. Blinding white.
A truck roared toward him.
> [1 second.]
"Ah, crap…"
💥 CRASH!
His body flew. The world went black.
No pain. Just weightlessness, like falling into a dream.
---
The voice returned—calmer this time, almost mocking.
> "Congratulations, host. You failed to survive."
"Transferring soul to a new world…"
"Primary directive: Have fun while conquering reality."
Rian groaned in the void.
"Have fun? After getting hit by a truck? Sure, why not."
He sighed. "God, if this is a prank, just yell 'Gotcha!' so I can laugh before dying."
No answer.
Only a gentle light approaching, warm and soft.
His body felt lighter, pulled upward.
Then a woman's voice whispered near his ear—clear, yet distant.
> "Welcome, Rian. A new world awaits."