Prologue: I Am an Atheist
I am an atheist. I don't believe in God.
I don't buy into the heaven and hell they preach in all those dime-a-dozen cathedrals and churches, nor the reincarnation you hear so much about in Buddhism.
So the idea that there's no next life—no place for me to find peace after death—has long since become my firm conviction.
But when someone meets their end burdened with regrets, even that lofty atheism gets tossed aside. They end up clinging to desperate hopes.
Please, let me do better next time. Just give me another chance, they pray fervently.
I know flipping my stance like the back of my hand is pathetic, but hey—if I'm dying anyway, if it's all ending here, what's the harm in one ugly plea?
There were just too many things I still wanted to do to slip away without even a final kick.
After losing my parents, how much suffering did I endure just to stand on my own two feet? How much had I invested in myself?
I'm barely hanging on in a cramped one-room apartment, but the cash I've scraped together from grueling manual labor isn't nothing.
If all that effort turns to dust, I'd have to wonder why I fought so hard to survive this long.
This meaningless life, scattering into the void. I should've enjoyed it more, even just a little.
But regrets like that come too late. Working on the construction site without safety gear, I slipped—my life flashing before my eyes in a torrent of memories. In that fleeting instant, stretched into eternity, thoughts raced through my mind.
I want to see them. Still no money... Just paid off the debts. What a shame. I miss them. So sad.
And then, all those emotions cut off in a heartbeat—splat—with the wet burst of blood.
A heavy body. Eyes that refused to open properly.
They tormented me, yet they also brought the vivid sensation of being alive.
Could luck be on my side after all? Was the world telling me to keep going?
With a groan, I pushed myself up, thoughts swirling.
A shrill voice rang strangely in my ears.
Was this a hospital? No—hospitals didn't use blankets like this. The luxurious bedding and bed felt utterly unreal.
I lifted my head. A vast, opulent room seemed to greet me.
Whose room was this? Why had I awakened here, not in a hospital?
As I pondered, a throbbing headache struck.
Wincing, I clutched my head—and felt something odd.
Something on my forehead.
My gaze followed my hand: slender arms. Long, glossy black hair.
“……Ah.”
The voice wasn't mine. The hair, the arms—none of it was me.
Who am I?