Yuto glanced out his office window at the city, its lights flickering like a bunch of trapped souls in neon cages, desperately trying to survive the night. He was slumped in his chair, shoulders hunched as if he wanted to disappear into it.
His desk? A sad little fortress made up of empty coffee cans, stacking around his flickering monitor. His left eye twitched every few seconds, and the veins in his pale hands looked like they were about to burst.
Then his inbox chimed.
Reminder: Quarterly report due at 5:00 AM.
Yuto let out a sound that was half-sigh, half-laugh. He looked at the clock—4:42 AM.
Eighteen minutes left.
"Ha… always punctual," he muttered. His voice felt strange, like a ghost was speaking from the walls.
He reached for the last coffee can—totally empty, of course. He tipped it anyway, hoping for a drop. The bitter taste on his tongue was so weak it felt more like a slap than relief.
He stared blankly at the city outside. Cars zipped across bridges, and a sign flashed announcing a store opening nearby. Life didn't stop for anyone, not even for the broken.
The blue glow of his monitor lit up his gaunt face and highlighted the dark circles under his eyes. Had it really been two years since he saw a sunrise outside this office?
Another notification pinged.
Reminder: Meeting with division head at 7:00 AM.
He chuckled dryly, "Of course… submit report at five and get scolded at seven. What a great routine."
He leaned back in his chair, groaning as each vertebra protested. His head tilted back, and the fluorescent lights felt like they were mocking him, flickering in rhythm.
Suddenly, memories flooded in—childhood spent alone, moving from one relative to another. Silent dinners, forgotten birthdays, unspoken apologies. His future? Just a grind of deadlines.
I lived like a ghost, he thought. And now, I'm dying like one too.
His fingers twitched toward the keyboard but froze. A sharp pain stabbed at his chest, radiating down his left arm.
He laughed again, a rough sound echoing in the empty office. "Guess even my heart quit on these all-nighters before I did."
Leaning forward, his forehead thudded against the cold metal of the desk. His breath came in short, wheezy gasps, sounding weaker with every breath.
No more reports… no more morning meetings… no more…
His final thought floated away like smoke from a dying candle: Finally… no more overtime…
Darkness rushed in, not softly, but like a tidal wave snuffing out the last flicker of a forgotten soul.
Somewhere Beyond
Silence. A silence so deep that it gnawed at the very edges of thought.
Yuto felt like he was floating or maybe sinking. Up and down didn't exist here—only the endless, consuming black.
Then he heard it.
A laugh.
Low and unhurried, like a cat watching a mouse before the pounce.
"Still hanging on, are we? Or maybe… just to the habit of suffering?"
The voice floated through the void, smooth and teasing, each word wrapping around Yuto's drifting mind like smoke.
"Who… are you?"
His thought echoed, trembling and small.
"Who am I?" The voice laughed. "A guide, a bystander… or maybe just a cosmic prankster. Labels are boring."
The dark around him cracked, silver light splintering the void like a broken mirror.
"But you… you crack me up," the voice continued. "You didn't die from war, betrayal, or poison… but from overwork. Truly a tragedy fit for the gods' laughter."
A rush of warmth—or maybe cold—washed over Yuto's drifting mind.
"I can offer you something new," the voice purred. "A world beyond this dreary grave. Magic. Personal growth. Power beyond your dreams… and of course, endless enemies and plots waiting to eat you alive."
Another laugh, deeper now, ringing with a terrible joy.
"Do you accept, little ghost?"
A pause. Then, Yuto's thought flickered, a crooked smile emerging even in the emptiness.
"Ha… no more overtime?"
"None," the voice promised, almost sweetly.
"Then… why not," Yuto thought. "Let's see if they can tire me out in hell too."
The voice burst out in laughter, the void shaking like a giant that couldn't stop laughing.
"Delightful! Let's see how far your laughter can echo in the abyss!"
Light exploded, consuming everything. Yuto felt himself being pulled, torn, and then—
A New Sky
Pain. Blinding, searing pain shot through him, burning every nerve, making each bone scream.
Yuto—no, someone else now—gasped, lungs sucking in thick air that smelled like iron and wild grass.
His eyes flew open.
Above him stretched a vast night sky, two big moons glowing like pale gods. The stars twinkled so bright they seemed alive, like they might fall from the sky at any moment.
He rolled over, groaning. His fingers dug into cold, broken tiles. He was in a shattered courtyard, dark stains marking where he'd lain moments before.
Pieces of memory rushed in, like half-remembered nightmares.
A noble house. A crying mother. Servants sneering behind silk fans. A brutal beating under moonlight. Thrown away as worthless, left to die in the courtyard.
The body's name hit him like a curse: Kaien Azreth.
He touched his face, feeling the sticky warmth of blood and the sharp ache in his ribs.
"Well… at least this isn't an office cubicle," he croaked. Despite the pain tearing through him, a sharp, joyful laugh escaped.
A breeze stirred, cold and fragrant, filled with the scent of night flowers and distant fires.
A whisper curled into his mind—the amused, all-knowing voice again.
Welcome home, my little demon.
A shiver ran down his spine, but a rush of power sparked through his veins. It felt wild, primal, and almost intoxicating—like an ancient storm bottled up inside him.
He staggered to his feet. Each breath felt metallic, and every step blurred his vision. But beneath the pain, something was waking up inside him.
Golden light flickered in his new eyes when he caught his reflection in a broken piece of jade.
His hair, once black and dull, now shimmered with a deep blue sheen under the moonlight. His eyes glowed like molten gold, filled with a wild, serene laughter.
"New world… new body…" he muttered, his lips curling into a crooked grin. "And no HR department ready to scold me over performance reviews."
A quiet moment stretched out.
Then he heard it—distant footsteps, hurried and hushed. They feared him, the "demonic trash" who should've died quietly.
He threw his head back and laughed, the sound cutting through the moonlit courtyard, echoing into the night like a mad wolf's howl.
"This time… no managers, no deadlines… no gods telling me what to do."
His fingers clenched. Despite the shaking, power crackled through them like a brewing storm.
Kaien Azreth—formerly Yuto—faced the broken gates of the courtyard, his eyes gleaming with a promise only he understood.
"If they wanted a demon, they should've been more careful about what they wished for."
He limped forward, each step filled with defiance and amusement, laughter rumbling in his chest like distant thunder.
A new game was just beginning.
And this time, he'd be the one laughing last.