Chapter Text
Your head pulses as you register the blinding white light surrounding you.
Bum. Bum. Bum.
Like something is beating against your skull from the inside.
Your neck feels stiff.
Your body paralyzed from head to toe.
[Wake up!]
A voice echoes inside your head.
You try to breathe.
To move.
Your body only twitches, small, useless jerks. Your vision stays blurred, the walls around you refusing to come into focus.
[Wake up, henchman!]
Ugh.
The voice grows louder. You try again, forcing your hand to move. This time, it responds. Barely. Each attempt comes a little easier than the last.
[Wake up!]
Bitch, I am trying.
You curse inwardly.
For some reason, you can feel the voice falter.
As if it’s disappointed. Its imaginary lips turn downward in your mind.
After some time—how long, you can’t tell—you finally manage to open your eyes.
The light fades.
And your surroundings begin to take shape.
You’re lying on the floor of a room with no edges.
White walls stretch endlessly upward. The tiles beneath you are white too, polished smooth, reflecting light that has no visible source. No corners. No shadows. Just an endless, sterile brightness that makes it hard to tell where the room ends and where you begin.
You breathe slowly, eyes darting across the space.
What the hell…?
[Hello!]
You flinch. Your body jerks against the floor. Your gaze snaps around the room again.
No one’s there.
[No, no. I’m here.]
You jolt upright.
Scrambling to your feet, you rush to the nearest wall, back slamming against it as your hand flies to your chest, ready to punch anything that dares come close.
“Who’s there?” you demand.
Your voice echoes in the empty space.
Your breathing turns uneven. Your head spins. The whitepresses in on you, too bright, nausea crawling up your throat. You wanted to puke.
[No, no, no. Please don’t puke. Calm down!]
The voice speaks again and you scream, swinging your fist through empty air.
[Goodness—stop! Calm down, host! I’m not going to hurt you or anything!]
“Where are you?” you shout. “Show yourself!”
[I will, but you have to listen to me first! Please!]
You drag in a deep breath. Then another. Your hands tremble, but slowly, the panic loosens its grip. Your heartbeat slower.
After a moment, you’re… functional again.
[Fyuh. Finally.]
You tilt your head.
It takes a second to realize it, but now that you’re calm, you can feel it. The voice isn’t coming from the walls. Or the air.
It’s inside your head.
You smack your temple a few times, experimentally.
[That won’t give you answers. Just a concussion.]
You roll your eyes, irritation bubbling up. You’re only now realizing how annoying this thing is.
“Alright, smartass,” you mutter. “Talk.”
You hear the being let out a small, offended huff.
[Hello, welcome to the Safe Room of the Secondary Fate Intervention Unit Office. I, System Number 666, am the one currently speaking to you.]
You blink.
Confusion sits plainly on your face. Silence stretches, then you let out a small, disbelieving snort.
“Oh my god,” you mutter. “I’m completely mental.”
The system sighs. You can feel it.
[No. You are not insane. You’re fine—well. Not exactly fine. You’re dead. But still. Not mental.]
You flinch. “Wait—what? Huh?”
You stare at the empty room. “I’m dead?”
[Yes!]
The answer is far too cheerful. You want to kick its shin.
You let out a brittle laugh, fingers digging into your hair. “Okay. Nope. I’m not following this conversation at all. Can you—can you please explain what exactly is happening?”
[Sure thing!]
A blue hologram flickers to life in front of you.
The scene is painfully familiar.
You see yourself standing at a bus stop, waiting quietly. Clutching a box of donut you very much deserved after surviving another soul-crushing day at your stupid corporate job.
Then a car coming too fast.
Out of control.
It swerves. Loses balance. Flies straight toward you.
The image freezes.
[For sanity purposes, we will not be showing the continuation of this incident.]
Your head spins.
Yeah.
You remember now.
You were supposed to go home. Instead, metal met flesh. Painful, shocking, sharp, and then,
Nothing.
Darkness.
[You have died, Host.]
You clutch your head, sudden pain blooming again.
After a few shaky breaths, you finally manage to regain your composure.
“I… died.”
[Yeah.]
“…Then,” you swallow. “Is this the afterlife?”
[Ding dong! Nope! You’re wrong. As I’ve told you, you are in the Safe Room of the Secondary Fate Intervention Unit Office, Host.]
You knit your brows together.
“What the hell is that?” you ask. “And why do you keep calling me host?”
[Xixixi. Okay, let me explain.]
[When one dies, their soul normally proceeds to the afterlife, where it will be judged before being reborn. Depending on what they did in life, they may return as something great,]
[A very successful person,]
[or something small, like a single plant.]
You stare at the white floor.
[But once in a while, there are souls that are… different.]
The system’s voice shifts, sounding almost like it’s reciting from a script.
[Souls that possess a certain strength. The potential to help others. To influence outcomes.]
[And in such cases, instead of going directly to the afterlife, they are offered a contract.]
There’s a brief pause.
[An offer from none other than the Secondary Fate Intervention Unit ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝]
[The Secondary Fate Intervention Unit (or SFIU, for short) is an agency managed by The Overseer to assist souls in reaching the afterlife. As I mentioned earlier, when one dies, they normally proceed to the afterlife. However, in certain cases, when a soul bears too much hatred, anger, or sorrow from an unjust death, they carry burdens. Unfinished business that prevents them from passing on. Instead, they become trapped in Waiting Rooms.]
You cross your arms, boredom settling in. Entirely unimpressed by whatever nonsense this stupid system is rambling about.
[EEK—! A-ahem. S-so, that’s where SFIU intervenes. As I said, those unique, magnanimous, chosen souls who accept a contract are branded as Agents. An Agent’s task is to help avenge—or amend—these unjust deaths, allowing those souls to finally pass to the afterlife.]
You shrug. “And what does that have to do with me?”
[Eh? (ó﹏ò｡) U-um—]
“Life sucks,” you cut in. “Both life and death, actually. I literally died because some stupid, irresponsible driver decided to drive recklessly while I was minding my own business.”
You scoff. “If they can’t accept their death and can’t move on, then so be it. That’s their problem.”
[B-but—in some cases, SFIU intervention prevents world-level disasters. It’s very important!]
“So?” you say flatly. “That still has nothing to do with me.”
You pause, then add, uncaring, “Sucks to be you, I guess.”
[But, Hench—Host! The price is worth it!]
You raise an eyebrow.
[You can come back to life! The Overseer will grant it to you if you want to.]
You tilt your head.
For the first time, you feel a flicker of interest.
Sensing it, the system rushes in.
[Yes! With just 1,000 points, you can exchange them for a wish to return to life!]
You tap your foot against the floor, thinking.
Considering the offer.
Then decide it isn’t worth it.
“I died,” you say plainly. “What’s done is done.”
[( ˶°ㅁ°) !!]
[But you died unjustly! Don’t you want to be revived?]
You shrug. “Like I said. Life’s tough.”
A pause.
“Sucks to be me, I guess.”
“Besides,” you add, squinting. “Are you even sure I’m dead? This whole thing feels suspicious.”
You narrow your eyes. “It’s too good to be true.”
[It is very good to be true. That’s why it’s only offered to chosen individuals.]
“Yeah. Right.”
[Why don’t you believe me?!]
“I don’t know,” you say. “What if I’m not dead? What if I’m just schizophrenic?”
You gesture vaguely around you. “What if I’m actually in a mental hospital right now?”
[No, Host. You are not schizophrenic. You are simply dead.]
“Can you show me the way to the afterlife?”
[NOOOO .·°՞(っ-ᯅ-ς)՞°·.]
You start walking aimlessly, heading toward the farthest wall.
[No—no, no, no. Please be my host, please! Otherwise I’ll be erased!]
Your hand stops just before it touches the wall.
“What do you mean by that?”
[Hiks. Huhu…]
“System?”
[No one wants to be my host… The Overseer said if I can’t secure a host, I will be deactivated.]
You slowly lower your hand. “But you know I can’t just sign a contract because I feel bad for you, right?”
[Hiks… yeah. I know.]
The system keeps crying inside your head.
You let out a long, irritated huff.
“Fine,” you say at last. “Tell me the catch.”
[Σ(°ロ°)]
[Okay, so, if you sign the contract, you will be granted full access to the SFIU system. You will gain points every time you finish a mission, which can later be redeemed for anything you want. In your case, returning to life!]
[Your mission is to avenge and correct the unjust deaths of souls. You will be rewarded upon completion, based on your performance score.]
“And if I fail?”
[…]
[Then you will be punished for some time in the punishment chamber.]
You turn around and attempt to punch the invisible system.
[EEEEK! B-but don’t worry, Hench—Host! That almost never happens! Our agents have nearly a 100% success rate because, as I said, they are chosen ones. We don’t recruit losers here!]
You pause.
Think.
You weigh the pros and cons carefully. After a while, you realize the pros almost completely outweigh the cons.
“Before I sign this stupid contract,” you say, straightening your back, one arm crossed while the other points accusingly at empty air, “let me get a few things straight.”
“These souls you’re talking about, are they real people? From real worlds?”
[Yes. They are souls from different universes. There are many of them, you know?]
“Oh. Wow. Really.”
[Yes! To put it simply, there are millions of universes, each with their own stories. Sometimes, a soul from one universe may retain faint memories from a previous one. Some even travel across them, like those transmigrator novel characters you like so much.]
“…How do you know I like transmigration fiction?”
[GASP—]
[Anyways! They don’t always travel. Some stay in their world, carrying memories of events. Many of them write those experiences down, thus becoming the fiction literature you humans read ^_^]
“Aha.”
[So one fictional story in your world may be a real event in another. We call these ‘Small Worlds’. In those worlds, your movement and knowledge will be limited to ‘the stories’, while the rest of the world remains irrelevant.]
[To put it simply,]
[You are the main character in your own story.]
“Wow,” you reply lazily, clearly unimpressed by the system’s bragging.
[૮(˶ㅠ︿ㅠ)ა]
“So my job is to avenge these characters I’ll become, so their souls can pass to the afterlife?” you ask.
[Exactly! So, what do you say, Host? Don’t you think it sounds amazing? You like these kinds of stories, don’t you?]
“Hm…”
“If I return to my world, can I ask for better life?”
[Geez, this is what I mean when I say humans are greedy. Better life is entirely in your human hand, Host.]
You glare.
[Eek— ૮₍˶Ó﹏Ò ⑅₎ა ]
You tilt your head. “Will there be a handsome men?”
[Of course!]
You purse your lips, tapping a finger against your chin.
“Fine,” you say at last. “I’ll take this stupid job.”
[ =͟͟͞͞(꒪ᗜ꒪‧̣̥̇)]
“But first,” you add, “can you manifest yourself as something? I feel crazy talking to myself.”
[Oh! That can be arranged. After you sign the contract, you’ll be able to manifest me as whatever you want.]
“A barnacle.”
[No, please.]
The air shifts.
A vortex of midnight blue and black spirals into existence before you, swallowing the sterile white. It churns for a moment, then dissipates, leaving behind a glowing contract, gold letters floating in the air.
You take a step closer.
The Secondary Fate Intervention Unit Official Agent Contract
“Hmm…”
[What’s the matter? Don’t you want to sign it?]
“Ever heard of reading a job contract very carefully before signing it?”
[Oh.]
After making sure there’s nothing suspicious—or blatantly unfair—you take the floating quill beside the contract.
And sign your name.
The contract trembles, letting out a strange, mechanical sound.
You take a cautious step back, hands raised in front of your face, just in case.
Then it whirls violently and bursts into a blinding white light. You shield your eyes from the glare.
A pop.
Balloons and confetti rain down from above. A cheerful song starts playing in the background.
“Welcome to the family~”
“Oh god,” you groan.
A banner unfurls in front of you.
‘Welcome to the Family, Agent No. 666’
[Yeaaay! We’re both tied as No. 666!]
“Are there really six hundred and sixty-six agents out there?” you ask flatly.
[Of course not. That’s just a random number The Overseer assigned to make it seem like there are many agents. There are only thirteen at the moment.]
“Oh my god,” you mutter. “I’m stuck with a small start-up enterprise.”
[We’re growing, Host. We’re growing.]
You shake your head.
“Anyway—you. System. How do I manifest you?”
[Oh, that’s easy! Just think of something. You can manifest me however you want. Picture how you want me to look, and I’ll appear right in front of you.]
“Hm…”
You close your eyes, thinking.
Think of something…
You try to imagine a form suitable for this chatty, annoying system.
Your thoughts drift to a certain sassy, furry menace you often encounter during long shifts,
the one that bites and scratches you whenever you try to pet it, despite the fact that you fed it.
Sparks burst into existence in front of you, cascading from above and scattering across the floor.
When the light fades, a small figure emerges.
It resembles a cat. Grey fur with white patches along its chest. Blue fire flickers from its ears, and its tail branches at the tip, splitting into something like a trident. A grey-and-white striped bow is tied neatly around its neck.
It stands upright on its hind legs.
“Hench-human!” it declares.
“Oh wow,” you say flatly. “It’s you, System.”
It nods.
[Yes!]
“And you can still talk directly into my brain.”
[This will be useful during missions, so you don’t look like a freak talking to yourself.]
“…Damn.”
You sigh, then glance at it again. “Anyway, we need a name for you. Makes things easier.”
[Oh! What will my name be?] it asks, clearly excited.
You grin.
“Grim.”
[?]
“Your name is Grim.”
[Why Grim?]
“Because,” you say calmly, “you’re the Grim Reaper who took my life.”
[No, I am not! ( ˶°ㅁ°) !!]
“I will be in your care, Grim.”
Later that day.
“Hey,” you say, glancing around. “Can this boring white space become something? I still feel like I’m in a mental hospital.”
[Sure thing! Just manifest it the same way you manifested me!]
The room shudders.
Light spills outward, washing over the white walls as they dissolve. The sterile space melts away, replaced by open air and the sound of waves. Beneath your feet, smooth marble tiles warm under the sun. Palm trees sway lazily nearby, their shadows stretching across an infinity pool that mirrors the sky. Beyond it, the ocean glitters, blue on blue, while sheer curtains billow softly from a pavilion overlooking the beach.
A five-star tropical resort. Excessive. Perfect.
You grin. “This is just the best.”
Grim rolls his eyes and resumes licking his fur, until his ears perk up.
[Host, I’ve received information on a world we can visit.]
“Already?”
[Yep.]
“Okay. Let’s go.”
A blue light blooms around your form. A hologram flickers to life, revealing a girl clutching her arms tightly, her body curled into a narrow, closet-like space. Her lips move in silent prayer. Her expression is petrified.
[Sharing character memories……65%……85%]
[Loading novel details……47%……52%]
[For story purposes, all character avengers will be designated as MC.]
Novel Title: The Massacre of the Count Family
Summary:
Jade Leech is a butler serving a prestigious count family. Beneath his calm demeanor, however, he lives a double life as the Count’s assassin.
Jade was born in a small eastern village. During a distant war, the Count’s army razed the village to the ground. Jade and his twin brother, Floyd, survived, only to be captured and sold through the Count’s slave trade. Floyd was sold first, separating them forever.
Years later, after Jade finally freed himself from slavery, he learned the truth: Floyd had died from the brutal abuse of his master.
Consumed by rage, Jade infiltrates the Count’s manor and massacres everyone inside.
Including MC.
MC is the Count’s heir, newly graduated from an overseas academy. She has never involved herself in household affairs and is firmly opposed to the slave trade. She dies hiding, powerless and terrified, caught in a slaughter she neither caused nor supported.
Main Mission:
Amend the unjust death of MC.
Prevent Jade Leech from becoming the executioner of the Count’s household.
Side Mission:
Free Jade Leech.
Time Limit: 60 days
Mission Difficulty Rank: S
Important Reminder: Prevent character setting from collapsing.
[Begin synchronization……12%……35%……62%]
[Here we gooo.]
TBC