The alcove materialized around me without fanfare—a small, enclosed space carved from the same gray ether as the rest of the Office. The cubicle walls shimmered faintly, like heat haze on a summer road, providing a sense of separation from the endless queues beyond. The teller gestured for me to sit on a simple stool that hadn't been there a moment ago, then stepped back, their role apparently complete for now.
I lowered myself carefully, half-expecting the seat to dissolve beneath me. It held, solid and unremarkable. The three orbs hovered at eye level, their lights pulsing in a rhythm that felt almost like breathing. As I watched, they shifted, taking on more defined forms—not fully human, but impressions that my mind could grasp.
The golden orb resolved into a woman of middle years, stern-faced with soil-streaked hands and a wreath of wheat crowning her brow. Demeter. Beside her, the amber light became a matronly figure wrapped in a cloak that flickered like embers, her eyes warm as a fireside glow. Hestia. And the violet one shimmered into a youthful man with vine leaves in his hair, a goblet in hand, his smile carrying a hint of mischief. Dionysus.
They didn't speak aloud at first. Their presences washed over me like waves—Demeter's earthy stability grounding me, Hestia's warmth easing the chill of death, Dionysus's effervescence sparking something long-dormant in my chest.
"We have seen your path, Hiroshi Tanaka," Demeter's voice came first, resonant and measured, like the rustle of wind through fields. "A life of seeds sown but harvests denied. Talent buried under misfortune's soil."
I swallowed, finding my voice. "You... know about me?"
"We know all who call upon the weave of creation," Hestia added, her tone soothing, like a hand on a fevered brow. "Your hearth, though small, burned with loyalty. To your kin, to your craft. We see the fire that refuses to die."
Dionysus leaned forward, his goblet tilting playfully. "And the joy in your hands—the way you turned simple things into feasts of the senses. Even in despair, you created. That's abundance, mortal. That's what caught our eye."
Their words stirred something deep within me, a flicker of the passion I'd thought extinguished. Cooking had always been more than a job; it was alchemy, turning the ordinary into the extraordinary. But after the scandal, it had become a reminder of loss.
"Why me?" I asked, the question slipping out before I could stop it. "I'm nobody. A failed chef with bad luck."
Demeter's gaze softened slightly. "Luck is the Void's illusion. We offer growth through effort. Your wish aligns: to nurture dreams into reality, as one tends a garden."
Hestia nodded. "To build a home where bonds are forged over shared meals. A hearth that protects and unites."
"And to celebrate abundance," Dionysus finished, raising his goblet. "Not through shortcuts, but creation's true revelry. We sponsor those who will weave harmony, not unravel it."
They explained the terms: Rebirth in Elysara, a world of mana and magic, where affinities shaped existence. I'd retain memories, guided by a system—quests to hone skills, a "Likes" meter for our bond, a CoreWish bar tracking my dream's progress. No instant power; I'd start as an infant, growing through toil. It was a second chance, but earned.
I listened, the weight of it settling over me. Random reincarnation could mean anything—a king or a beggar, with no control. Fading? Oblivion sounded peaceful, but cowardly. This... this was tailored to what I'd wished for. A world where cooking could be magic? Where I could build something lasting?
But doubt crept in. "What's the catch? Nothing's this straightforward."
Dionysus chuckled softly. "The catch is the world itself. Elysara is alive with wonders—and shadows. Our counterparts, the Voids, tempt with easier paths. But you chose light in your wish."
As if summoned by the words, the alcove dimmed. A chill seeped in, and shadows coalesced at the edges—two dark forms, flickering like smoke. One radiated discord, a jagged energy that set my teeth on edge. The other was pure obscurity, swallowing light.
The teller reappeared, frowning. "Interference. Stand by."
A rippling portal opened, revealing a glimpse beyond—like peering through warped glass. There, in a similar alcove, stood Kenji—or what remained of him. His form was twisted, eyes hollow, as dark presences loomed over him. Eris and Nyx, I somehow knew. Their whispers promised power—quick, vengeful dominion to right his wrongs. Kenji, broken by guilt, accepted, his soul warping as he was pulled toward rebirth.
The vision snapped shut, leaving me cold. "That was... him."
"The Voids claim their own," Demeter said gravely. "Those driven by chaos and shadow. He will walk a parallel path in Elysara the same way you will."
My hands clenched. After everything, Kenji got a redo too—but twisted. Part of me wanted to rage, to demand justice. But another part, quieter, recognized the pity in it. His guilt had poisoned him long before death.
"Will I have to face him?" I asked.
"Paths may cross," Hestia replied. "But focus on your weave, not his unraveling."
The teller cleared their throat. "Decision required. Accept the Stars' sponsorship?"
I hesitated, the weight of it all pressing down. Yumi's face flashed in my mind—her smile over a shared bowl of ramen, her belief in me unshaken. Kenji's confession, too late. The restaurant in flames.
If I faded, it ended. If I reincarnated randomly, I'd lose myself. But this... this was a chance to honor what I'd lost. To cook not just for survival, but for something greater.
"Yes," I said finally. "I accept."
The teller nodded, tapping the screen. "Wish formalized:Core Wish—Become a worldwide-famous chef with your own renowned restaurant. Progress:0.00%. System integration commencing."
The orbs brightened, enveloping me in their combined light. Demeter's earthiness grounded me, Hestia's warmth protected, Dionysus's joy invigorated. A faint interface flickered in my mind—bars, menus, waiting to fully activate.
"Grow well, Hiro Vale," Demeter intoned.
"Build your hearth strong," Hestia added.
"And celebrate the feast of life," Dionysus concluded with a wink.
The light intensified, pulling me forward again. The Office faded, gray dissolving into brilliance. Sensations returned—weight, breath, a cry building in my throat.
And then, rebirth.