I've died nearly a thousand times.
But this one? This one's almost… peaceful.
I am—or was—Evangelica Victoria Merdover. A name that once meant power, privilege, and pure, unfiltered cruelty.
In my first life, I was a villainess. Wicked in thought and deed. I bullied my half-sister, tormented servants, manipulated friends. No one was safe from my tyranny. I can't remember my face from that life, but I remember the look in other people's eyes—fear, resentment, pain. The fact that past me liked seeing that kind of look in their eyes should suggest how wicked I was.
One time, I had one of the servant's family killed because she served me a tea that was slightly too hot. That's the kind of legacy I left behind.
Why am I reminiscing now? Because I'm dying. And yes, it's true what they say—your life does flash before your eyes. Except, where a normal person sees one life, I see thousands. Memories flicker like broken film, spinning in my mind without mercy.
My breath rattles in my chest, sharp and shallow. Each inhale feels like a needle stabbing my lungs.
"What a pity. Such a young life," I hear someone in the crowd murmur.
"She's suffering so much… I wish I could help."
Cries for help echo around me.
"Is there a doctor?" Another kind person asked.
I hear the voices distantly, muffled by the pain. I'm lying on the street, bleeding out after being stabbed by a mugger. I can hear sirens in the distance. For some, that sound might bring hope—but not for me. I know it's too late. I'm going to die.
I can hear soft-hearted strangers weeping nearby.
If I could talk, I'd tell them not to waste their tears. Save your concern. Death and I—we're old acquaintances. In fact, this one's not even that bad.
I've been burned alive. That was one of the worst. Drowning? Not great either. I've been starved, crushed, and poisoned. Personally, I prefer the quick deaths—snapped neck, clean beheading. One-two, done. Dying of illness, though? Slow, pitiful, undignified, Tch, I hated that most of all.
I close my eyes, blocking out the strangers' faces. Someone is pressing a coat to my wound, trying to stop the bleeding. But I can still feel my lifeblood pooling on the cold, rain-slick concrete beneath me.
It had rained earlier. On a normal rainy evening, the streets would be empty. Maybe that's why the mugger thought it was the perfect time to strike. Bad luck for him: a crowd was leaving the nearby bar after a football match ended.
When he came at me, I screamed. People heard and came running. In a panic, he stabbed me, grabbed my purse, and fled.
Joke's on him—I was broke. I hope he enjoys the gum wrappers and lint, maybe a few bus coins, if he's lucky.
If I could sigh, I would. This life was… normal. Mundane, even. I liked it. I held a normal job. Had a cat named Peaches. I wish I could've stayed longer. It may have been just one of many lives I've lived to die, but still—it was a good one.
I hear the paramedics arrive. Thanks for trying, I think. But this is it. I smile faintly as life slips away and the cold grip of death takes hold.
---
…and open them in a white room.
Sterile. Silent. Vast. Too bright.
A ball of light hovers in front of my face.
I stare. Do not slap the light. Do not slap the light.
"Hello, resilient soul," says a voice from the glowing orb. It's strange—thousands of voices speaking at once. Neither male nor female. No warmth.
I don't respond. This is not my first rodeo.
"I am Supervisor Grim Reaper 2099. Welcome to Centre 504."
The light pulses, then morphs into a humanoid shape—a glowing fairy in a white toga, with wings of golden light.
Huh. That's new.
Usually, there's just a giant book review of the life I just lived, and then I'm shipped off to another life to die. My deaths usually serve a purpose. Inspiring people, saving lives, all that crap. I'm that common fodder that has to die so that the hero can start on his righteous path to save the world.
For instance, that man who tried to stop the bleeding with a coat would go on to become a world-renowned doctor saving thousands of lives. All because he couldn't save a stab victim one rainy night. He vowed to become a doctor so he wouldn't have to watch another person die helplessly in front of him, or some such bullshit.
The fairy reaper gives a deep, 90-degree bow. "On behalf of the Afterlife Transitional Centre, I—Supervisor Grim Reaper #2099—apologise for a glitch in the system that occurred on August 23, 2019, upon your first death as Evangelica Merdover."
My heart stutters. Wait. Glitch?
The fairy conjures a shimmering book with gold covers and a black spine into its hands. "According to our records, you were originally sentenced to serve one thousand years in an underworld labour facility before entering the reincarnation cycle. A judgment rendered due to the karmic weight of your first life sins as Evangelica Victoria Merdover."
My stomach twists, and I gasp. Loudly.
"But due to a clerical error by a rookie reaper, you were instead sentenced to die one thousand times in various lives. Unfortunately, once judgment is issued, it cannot be undone."
I stare in horror. The fairy reaper is rattling off all this information like it's the weather forecast.
Underworld… a thousand deaths… what the actual hell?
"Congratulations," the reaper continues cheerily, "you've completed your cycle of one thousand deaths!" Fireworks erupt from her fingertips.
"You are now eligible to enter your true reincarnation cycle or serve your sentence in the underworld. Which will it be...?"
"But—wait—" I stammered, my mind glitching. "Reincarnation… what?!"
The fairy reaper plays a game sound, "Congratulations on your choice!"
I shivered as if someone walked over my many graves, so if I had said underworld, she would have just sent me there, no questions asked!!
Immune to my distress, the thing continued, "As compensation for the administrative failure, you have been assigned a high-tier realm. Additionally, you will receive a unique ability of your own."
A door opens beside me. Wind rushes toward it, pulling at my very soul.
"Wait! Hold on!" I scream, extremely frustrated.
"You'll be placed in a developing mana-based world," she says cheerfully, "Where your potential may flourish. May your next life find what the first one lost… and what the thousand failed to erase."
"Wait, please! I have questions!" I shout, clawing at the air.
The door's force intensifies.
The fairy just smiles. "Good luck in your new life!"
That serene, glowing face is the last thing I see as I'm yanked into the unknown.
"You biiiiitch!"