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THANKS, MY DEATH

subnik
7
chs / week
The average realized release rate over the past 30 days is 7 chs / week.
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Synopsis
The day the world announced his death, a throne was built in the middle of the city. No name. No face. Only one status flashing everywhere— DECEASED. While millions gathered, argued, and mourned… he stood alive, watching it all from above. Death did not take him. Death kept him. Now trapped between life and an unseen system, the protagonist begins a journey where fate is written, rules are hidden, and being dead is an advantage. Mysterious white-clad witnesses observe from the shadows. A black throne waits for someone who should not exist. And every step forward pulls him closer to a truth the world is not ready to hear. This is not a hero’s story. This is what happens after the ending. Thanks, My Death.
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Chapter 1 - Chapter 0 — Thanks, My Death

The city felt unusually alive today.

Not because there was a festival…

but because someone had died.

Every screen displayed the same line—

STATUS: DECEASED

The name was missing.

The face was blurred.

All details were locked.

Still…

people kept coming.

The roads were overflowing.

There was no space left on the bridges.

People stood on rooftops,

as if trying to see someone…

or waiting for something.

At the center of the city,

a throne had been placed.

Not made of gold.

Not decorated.

Just black.

Silent.

And empty.

As if it wasn't built for someone…

but placed in someone's memory.

Near the throne stood a few bua.

White clothes.

Slightly bent backs.

Eyes carrying a kind of knowledge

no camera could ever capture.

One bua spoke softly:

"It was too early to announce it."

Another replied:

"Once the world started recognizing him,

staying silent became impossible."

The third bua looked directly at the throne.

"An empty throne

doesn't mean

the master is gone."

A reporter shouted, "What is all this?!

Is he alive or dead?!"

The bua fell silent.

Then the oldest among them spoke a single line—

"He is dead."

After a pause,

she added—

"But death has kept him."

The crowd erupted.

"What does that mean?!"

"Is this some kind of joke?!"

"Tell us the truth!!"

No answer came.

Only the throne remained—

perfectly still.

Far above the city,

on the edge of a tall building,

a boy stood.

Completely alive.

Hands in his pockets.

A tired face.

No emotion in his eyes.

Below him, people were mourning his death.

The air around him turned cold.

A familiar presence spoke:

"You've become famous."

The boy let out a faint laugh.

"By dying?"

"Officially."

the presence replied.

The boy looked toward the throne.

"They even built a throne."

"People always want symbols,"

the presence said.

"More than the truth."

The boy closed his eyes.

"So all this… is in my memory?"

The presence paused before answering:

"No."

"It's a warning."

Below,

the bua stepped back together.

And in that moment,

the crowd fell silent on its own.

As if everyone felt the same thing—

He is here.

The boy spoke softly:

"Thanks, my death."

The throne remained empty.

For now. --------To Be Continued…