They always said that when you die, you either go to heaven or hell.
You know, depending on how much of a bastard you were.
If you were a saint, they'd roll out the golden carpets and let you into heaven without even checking ID.
If you were a terrible person, well… straight down the express elevator to hell you went.
At least, that's what Ryan thought.
Reality?
Way weirder.
Because immediately after dying, Ryan found himself sitting in a small, cluttered office.
The kind you'd expect a retired accountant to work in — old wooden desk, piles of paperwork, and a cheap plastic fern leaning sadly in the corner.
Across from him, sipping what looked suspiciously like a Diet Coke, was a bearded old man in a flowing white robe.
The robe, by the way, had "God of Worlds" stitched across the chest in bright, glittery gold letters.
Ryan stared.
The old man stared back.
For some reason, Ryan didn't feel scared.
He wasn't even panicking.
He just… sat there.
Like someone had unplugged the anxiety section of his brain.
The old man chuckled, waving a hand lazily through the air.
"Yeah, yeah. You're wondering why you're not crying, screaming, or wetting your pants," the man said, his voice like warm static.
"Spiritual plane. Your body doesn't process emotions the same way here. Basically, you're chill whether you like it or not."
Ryan blinked slowly.
He glanced around the office again, half-expecting Ashton Kutcher to pop out and yell "You're on Punk'd!"
No such luck.
"…So," Ryan said, clearing his throat, "am I dead?"
The old man snorted into his drink. "What gave it away? The truck? The loud crunch? The brief moment of pure, unfiltered 'oh shit'?"
Ryan grimaced. "Yeah, that tracks."
The old man set down his can and leaned forward, elbows resting on the desk.
His eyes twinkled like he was about to offer Ryan either the meaning of life or a used car.
"Name's Garven," he said. "God of Worlds. Department of Reincarnation. Temporary Supervisor while Janet's on vacation."
Ryan stared.
"You're telling me the god in charge of my afterlife… is a temp?"
Garven shrugged. "Hey, bureaucracy's gotta bureaucrat."
Ryan buried his face in his hands and let out a long sigh.
This… was fine.
Everything was fine.
When he looked up again, Garven was already pulling a massive, dusty book from beneath the desk.
It landed with a heavy thud, sending a small puff of spiritual dust into the air.
"Let's see here," Garven muttered, flipping through the pages. "Ryan Laureen… twenty years old… died from blunt force trauma, courtesy of a distracted driver. Tsk tsk. Modern Earth, man. No respect for pedestrians."
Ryan leaned back in his chair. "So what now? Heaven? Hell? Reincarnation as a dung beetle?"
Garven chuckled. "Normally, yeah, you'd get sorted into one of the standard options. But!"
He raised a finger dramatically.
"You got lucky."
Ryan raised an eyebrow. "Lucky?"
Garven's grin widened. "I'm feeling generous today. Plus, we've got a bit of a, uh… backlog in the soul queue. So I'm offering you a special deal."
He clapped his hands, and a holographic screen materialized in the air between them.
It was bright pink.
Covered in suspicious winking emojis.
Ryan narrowed his eyes. "This feels like a scam."
"Not a scam," Garven said cheerfully. "An opportunity. I'll reincarnate you into a normal, modern world. A comfortable life. College kid, good looks, decent luck stat. Buuut—"
He drew out the word like a used-car salesman offering free undercoating.
"There's a catch."
Ryan sighed. "Of course there's a catch."
Garven pointed to the screen, which now showed a flashing message:
[Pleasure Hunter System Installed Upon Rebirth!]
[Objective: Build deep emotional and physical bonds with mature women to gain life power!]
[Bonus Rewards: Charisma boosts, stat growth, occasional spicy perks!]
Ryan squinted at it. "…You're kidding me."
Garven's grin could've powered a small city.
"Nope! You, my boy, are going on the great hunt… for MILFs."
Ryan leaned back, stared at the ceiling for a moment, and then muttered, "I died and got groped by the plot of a hentai game."
Garven spread his hands. "Look, you can say no. I'll just send you back to the queue. You'll probably reincarnate as a particularly unlucky garden slug in like… thirty years."
Ryan opened his mouth to argue.
Paused.
Closed his mouth.
Being a slug sounded… extremely not ideal.
At least being a human, even in a weird world with a pervy system, gave him a chance.
And honestly? How bad could "bonding with beautiful older women" really be?
"I'm gonna regret this," Ryan muttered.
Garven clapped him on the shoulder. "Welcome aboard, kid."
Before Ryan could ask what the fine print said, the world around him exploded into white light.