Reincarnation
"Thwack!" The sound of my fist slamming into the pillow echoed softly through the quiet studio apartment. The faint blue light of dawn seeped through the gap in the blackout curtains, but the cold white glow of my smartphone screen swallowed it whole. From beneath the covers, only my weary sigh from an all-nighter and defeat drifted out into the loneliness.
"No way... how am I supposed to clear this...?"
Muttering in despair, I set the phone down on the pillow. On the screen, the red letters DEFEATED blinked mockingly at me.
The game I'd been grinding away at was called Shadow Symphony. A brand-new mobile game, not even two months old since launch, it had shot straight to number one in users and become the talk of the town. You collected heroes from 1-star to 5-star, built parties, and conquered labyrinths teeming with monsters—that was the core loop. Nothing revolutionary, but the vast world-building and flashy combat animations had hooked me hard.
I'd started it during my leave of absence when I had time to kill, and before I knew it, it had become part of my daily routine. After part-time shifts, I'd dive right in, adventuring with those pixel heroes. What began as a casual hobby had turned into my main source of dopamine.
But two days ago, the 5th-stage boss Petramos dropped with the update, and everything changed. "Did they really design this to be clearable?" Even with my party maxed out on fully reinforced 5-stars, I couldn't shave off half its health.
Desperate, I checked the Shadow Symphony gallery, but there were no guides—just endless complaints and curses about Petramos. Scrolling through felt like staring into a mirror of other players' rage and frustration, reflecting my own.
"Huh... looks like everyone's struggling..."
Feeling distraught over the money I'd sunk into Shadow Symphony, I fled to the Plant Gallery for some solace. I didn't grow plants myself, but I loved the mature, peaceful vibe there—it was my go-to for healing. Seeing folks proudly post pics of their houseplants every day always calmed me down.
Browsing around, I spotted a long apology comment from the OP of some troll post. They'd written in a fit of passion, then come back the next day with a sincere sorry. Impressive.
"As expected of the Plant Gallery."
Like sprouts pushing through soil, maybe people's hearts grew the same way here. On a whim, I wondered if I should try putting a little potted plant by the window.
As I pondered seriously, drowsiness finally crept in. Glancing at the clock, I realized I'd pulled an all-nighter into past 1 p.m. Those pitch-black blackout curtains had completely wrecked my sense of time.
"No way, it's already broad daylight?"
I vowed to shelve Shadow Symphony until the patch and started prepping for bed. Time for my holy trinity of perfect sleep: a sleep mask that supposedly absorbed light like Vanta Black, earplugs that could block out a band concert right in front of you, and this bed that wouldn't budge even if an elephant stomped by.
Sleep quality was non-negotiable for me.
…
"Ugh... hot... no, scorching."
The air around me felt like a sauna. And something noisy had been buzzing in my ears for a while. Irritated by the heat and racket, I jerked upright—and suddenly coughed violently.
"Kuh!"
"Cough cough!"
Black clumps and phlegm spewed from my mouth. Panicking, I ripped off the sleep mask. The room was choked with thick black smoke. Yanking out the earplugs unleashed blaring alarms from every direction, and from below came the roar of flames.
"W-what!? Fire, there's a fire!?"
My perfect sleep setup had backfired into disaster. Before I could get my bearings, my throat seized up again.
"Cough cough!"
More black gunk. My throat burned like fire; my airways were scorched. I'd inhaled too much smoke—my body wouldn't respond properly. Fumbling to the front door, I saw the whole building shrouded in black haze. Squinting through stinging eyes, every other door hung open. Everyone else had evacuated.
"They all got out? Where are the firefighters?"
I needed a way to survive. The rooftop had an evacuation area. Crouching low, I shuffled toward the emergency stairs, but my head throbbed and spun. I lost balance and collapsed.
"Ugh."
No strength left. My legs wouldn't obey, even though I wanted to stand.
"H-help! Somebody!"
My desperate cry drowned in the inferno's roar and shrieking alarms. I was alone in this officetel.
"Please... help...!"
…
"H... help..."
"Guh, ack!"
No more voice. Time was running out—I knew it instinctively. No rescue in sight. As consciousness faded, a strange peace washed over me. My last thought wasn't the game's defeat screen, but that tiny sprout photo from the Plant Gallery.
"They say burning to death hurts worst... at least I'm suffocating instead... lucky, I guess..."
Darkness closed in. In my final moment, I thought I heard someone call my name—but even that dissolved into the void.
An infinite abyss like the ocean depths. In absolute silence where time, space, and sensation ceased to exist, I awoke.
Floating alone in the universe's core, surrounded by light-devouring blackness. No sound, no warmth, no presence—just endless thoughts swirling in perfect void.
Where... am I?
The very act of thinking felt alien. If I couldn't think at all, maybe it wouldn't be so terrifying. My last memory: losing consciousness in the firestorm officetel. The searing smoke scorching my throat, the alarms shredding my ears, that fleeting sprout image. All felt like ancient history now.
I tried desperately to move, but shockingly, there was no body. No limbs, not even a finger to twitch. Nothing to move at all. No suffocation, no heartbeat—just pure consciousness adrift in the dark.
Agh, can't even wiggle a finger! No breathing, no pulse... what the hell?
Is this... vegetable state?
Terror gripped me. Rescued from the smoke, lying in a hospital ICU? But this was worse than vegetative. Docs said aware patients could sense faint sounds or touches, hear family voices. This was total isolation.
Time lost meaning. A minute? An hour? Years? Endless solitude deepened the dread.
Please... this can't be forever, right?
Fear crashed like waves. I craved every lost sensation: chilly dawn air, warm sunlight, coffee's sweet aroma, fingertips on keys. Everyday things now felt priceless.
Wait... is this the afterlife?
Realization struck like lightning. My good deeds flashed by: monthly donations, sporadic but earnest volunteering...
I lived decently! This is unfair!
Not a saintly life, but not hell-worthy. This can't be right! If not heaven, reincarnate or something! Not eternal darkness!
Denial raged, but reason coldly assessed: I might be dead. Time wasted escaping into games felt futile. If only I'd grown a real plant, left some meaningful trace... Regret flooded in.
No, there's hope. This is recovery. Just wait a bit longer...
Then: Wait. Since when am I this emotional? I'd normally analyze rationally... my inner voice even sounds different...
Not the time. Focus on escape first.
Calming myself, I sharpened my awareness, seeking any light. Hoping something lay beyond the dark, I delved inward, peering into my depths like a bottomless well.
Then—faintly, but unmistakably—something stirred.
Huh?