An Unlucky Respawn Point

I had bad luck with strange respawn points. Or maybe that was putting it too mildly. I was the type who was cursed with terrible misfortune. Always had been. It started from the moment I was born.

My parents had decided to have a second child so they could raise at least one properly, but I was that second child. I was constantly shuffled between my grandparents’ house and my relatives’, which meant frequent school transfers and, naturally, no friends. The first time I ever felt any real luck was when I finally landed a job—and of course, that was the exact day the Gates opened.

Giant doors that had risen simultaneously across the world. Alien invasion, the real-life version of those web novels, all kinds of nonsense flooded the news and the internet, but none of it mattered. The world had ended. That was what mattered.

Oh. There was something more important.

While those armchair debates raged on, I was conscripted, I fought, I was hospitalized, and I died.

When I regained consciousness, I couldn’t see a thing. No sense of touch or smell either. For a second I panicked, thinking I’d become a vegetable, but the next instant I understood.

That was when I realized humans were not the dominant species.

I spent a moment thinking about the entity that had thrown a choice at me. A constellation? A god? The administrator running a simulation? Whatever it was, I was grateful. So death wasn’t the end after all.

In the pitch-black space, I stared for a long time at the pale green status window and the word Cost written on it before I thought, Guess I have to.

My consciousness cut off as cleanly as a computer being powered down.

Whether the world was being made or I was being made, the sensations flooding my body were so rich that my mind couldn’t quite tell the difference. I was standing in the living room of a high-rise apartment that looked like it had been abandoned for decades, practically a ruin.

When I blankly turned my head and looked out the window, it finally hit me.

I’m alive.

The sunset blazing straight at me was blinding. Cold wind poured through the shattered floor-to-ceiling windows, stinging my skin. I savored every single sensation for a long time simply because they were welcome.

Only when my body began to shiver from the cold did I walk over to the window.

The city sprawled below me. A ruin that must have once been quite prosperous. The only high-rise still standing seemed to be this apartment. There wasn’t a single obstacle blocking the view all the way to the distant mountain ridge.

I slowly shifted my focus closer. The river at the foot of the mountain. Abandoned factories turned rust-red. A plaza with a roundabout and the entertainment district that had been built by blocking off a four-lane road. Not a single human figure anywhere.

That felt natural. The city was so thoroughly destroyed—even the roads—that living here seemed impossible, let alone traveling through it. The low area near what looked like city hall was flooded like a pond, so the waterworks were clearly broken too.

Sudden anxiety gripped me.

Is this building even safe?

At a glance it looked like it had been left to rot for a very long time. The wall finishing had almost completely crumbled away, exposing the concrete, and deep cracks ran across the floor and ceiling.

I wondered if the exterior looked just as bad. Carefully, I poked my head out the window. The moment I stared down at the dizzyingly distant ground—

Whooooosh—

A powerful gust slammed into me. Startled, I grabbed the windowsill, only for my hand to get sliced by the remaining glass. Without thinking I cried out, and a ridiculously cute voice rang in my ears.

“Kyaang!”

I was so bewildered I forgot to steady myself. My body tilted straight toward the outside.

“Eek!”

By the time I realized I was screwed, it was already too late. Even if I reached out, the windowsill was out of reach. There was no ground for my feet to find. Just as I thought I would begin to fall—

A whirlwind swirled around me and my body floated gently upward. That alone was astonishing, but the status window that appeared before my eyes made me gasp in wonder.

“Whoa…”

It had really turned into one of those web novels.

In my previous life I had been an ordinary infantryman. I had seen awakeners fighting and the Association being founded with my own eyes, but I never imagined they actually used status windows like the characters in stories.

When I unconsciously moved my body, the wind pushed against my back like a cushion. My prone form straightened upright. It was what I wanted, yet it felt strange to call it intentional. After all, people don’t consciously order their bodies to walk or eat. According to some neuroscience article I’d read long ago, those automated movements were handled unconsciously by the cerebellum. That was exactly how this felt.

The moment I thought, Let’s go higher, an updraft had already formed. When I turned my head to look behind me, the wind was already rotating my body. I rose slowly like a hot-air balloon and circled the city once. Then I arrived at the rooftop.

A single tree was growing there. More precisely, four thick vines that had started from the ground had spiraled up the apartment building, merged together on the roof, and transformed into what looked like a tree.

The reason this apartment alone had survived without collapsing in the ruined city was probably thanks to those vines.

I descended as slowly as I had risen. The helicopter landing pad—which I was seeing in real life for the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠first time—fascinated me, so I landed on it for no particular reason before walking over to the base of the merged-vine tree.

Almost in a trance, I placed my hand on the trunk and looked up at the branches heavy with lush leaves.

A moment later, a strange thought crossed my mind.

It’s preparing for death.

It felt like I could read the plant’s thoughts. The realization was so natural that it took me a beat to notice how odd it was. I tilted my head. Why had such a thought suddenly occurred to me?

Only after finding the answer did I also realize why I was remaining so calm.

This feels like a dream.

An ability I could wield as naturally as breathing. Thoughts I never would have had in the past. Sharpened, diversified senses. Just like in dreams of flying through the sky or drifting through space, everything that should have felt alien instead felt familiar.

That was why I could naturally accept the abstract thought I perceived as the “vine’s mind.” I could also clearly sense that the place the vine was carefully protecting was the floor directly below me.

What could it be protecting? Curiosity drew me toward the stairwell.

When I pushed the heavy iron door, the hinges snapped off. The door tilted with a loud clunk before suddenly dropping straight down.

Whooooosh— Thud!

Inside, both the stairs and the floor had collapsed. The door itself was already lying on the level below. I stared down blankly, then jumped like before to ride the wind—only for thin vine tendrils to wriggle out from everywhere and weave together into a spiral ramp.

The whirlwind that had been wrapped around me scattered. I stepped onto the ramp the vines had created for me.

Maybe it was because I was barefoot. As I descended, I could continuously read the vine’s thoughts. No, since they were too abstract, “thoughts” wasn’t quite the right word. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Heart. That felt more accurate.

A heart that wanted to protect something precious. Following where that heart led, I arrived at a living room almost identical to the one where I had first opened my eyes.

Crumbled finishing materials. Cracks everywhere. Piles of dust. Almost everything was the same, yet one thing had felt distinctly different from the moment I arrived.

Ziiiing—

A faint electromagnetic wave that my past self would never have noticed. I turned my head. Bluish light from an electronic device was leaking from the end of the hallway that led to the master bedroom.

I approached slowly. I pushed the slightly ajar door open with my hand and peered inside.

It was a strange room. It was clearly full of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠dirt and dust, yet the air didn’t feel stale or dirty at all. The grass and moss were responsible. Weeds ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠growing between the floorboards released phytoncides that sterilized the dust. The moss covering the walls drew in just the right amount of moisture from outside, maintaining humidity so dust wouldn’t float around.

Of course, this environment wasn’t suitable for human habitation. For people vulnerable to waterborne diseases, a slightly drier nest would have been better.

But I was fine with it.

I stepped carefully into the room. The moment I breathed in, I was certain.

This is paradise.

Human standards no longer applied to me. The texture of grass brushing my feet, the moisture filling my lungs, the natural colors filling my eyes—everything was too perfect. That perfection had become my new standard for a home.

Moreover, the most important appliance was already here.

A computer sitting alone in the center of the room. It was the source of both the bluish light and the high-frequency hum.

How was it still running? Was someone actually living here?

I looked around and spotted a mirror. I sidestepped until my reflection appeared in it.

What I saw was a girl wearing a white one-piece dress.

Just as I thought. The strange scream earlier hadn’t been a mistake.

Should I be happy that I had become younger, or worry that I had become frail…? With complicated feelings, I crossed my arms and put on a pouty expression. That was when a notification sound rang out from the computer.