The buzz of fluorescent lights hummed above him like a lullaby meant to keep him awake. His fingers ached from tapping on the keyboard, yet the screen stared back at him with the same indifferent glow. The office was almost empty now, just a few stragglers like him, clinging to deadlines and dreams they never really believed in.
Riku Nakamura—age twenty-nine, single, and painfully average—rubbed his temples and glanced at the time. 11:52 PM.
"Another day, another piece of my soul gone," he muttered to himself, shutting down his computer with a sigh.
The walk home was always quiet this late, the city transformed into a ghost of its daytime self. Neon signs flickered above shuttered stores, and the usual crowd had thinned to shadows under streetlights. He liked this time of night—when the world seemed to forget him, just like everyone else had.
As he passed the narrow alley next to the convenience store, he heard it.
"Help… someone…"
The voice was weak, trembling.
He paused. His first instinct was to keep walking. Whatever it was, it wasn't his problem. He wasn't some hero in a movie—just a tired office worker with a stale sandwich waiting in his fridge.
But curiosity gnawed at him. Carefully, he peeked around the corner.
Three guys. Leather jackets. Cigarettes. Laughter. A kid on the ground, barely older than thirteen, clutching a torn backpack like it was his last lifeline.
"Come on, brat. You think this city runs on charity?" one of them sneered, grabbing the bag.
Riku's breath hitched when he saw the glint of steel—a knife, short but sharp, in the hand of the tallest one.
His feet moved before his brain caught up.
"Hey!" he shouted.
They turned. Surprise morphed into annoyance, then amusement.
"The hell's this? Some salaryman looking to play hero?"
Riku's legs shook, but he kept moving. He had no plan, no strength, no weapons. Just a gut feeling that if he did nothing, he wouldn't be able to look at himself in the mirror anymore.
He reached the tallest one and shoved him hard. The guy stumbled back, but the knife didn't fall.
It sank.
Right into Riku's side.
The pain was sudden and electric, like fire lancing through his ribs. He crumpled, knees hitting the cold pavement as the world tilted sideways.
The delinquents panicked. They ran, cursing under their breath, leaving the kid staring in wide-eyed horror.
Riku coughed, red blooming on his shirt like a dark flower.
Riku coughed, red blooming on his shirt like a dark flower.
Was this it?
All those years slaving, saving, surviving. For what? To die in an alley for a kid he didn't know?
The sky looked clearer than usual.
"I just wanted… to rest," he whispered, voice hoarse. "Maybe… in my next life… I'll be rich. Live easy. Peaceful…"
As his consciousness faded, a faint chime echoed in the depths of his mind.
Ding—!
> [Soul Transfer Complete.]
[You have died.]
[Granting Final Wish…]
[Initializing System: Elysium Protocol]
Riku's eyes widened for the briefest second as glowing blue text hovered in the darkness behind his eyelids, the voice in his head emotionless and cold.
> [Welcome, Chosen Soul.]
[You shall be reborn in accordance with your final desire.]
[Class Assigned: Heir of Elysium]
[Lifestyle Mode: Rich & Peaceful - Activated]
> [Rebirth in: 3… 2… 1…]
And then—nothing.