When I opened my eyes—or rather, when I was finally able to see—there was nothing but white all around me.No walls, no ceiling, no floor. Just an endless, blinding void.
Except… there was something.
I was sitting on a chair.In front of me was a small wooden table.And on that table—a single cup of tea.
"...Is this some kind of prank?" I muttered. "Or… am I kidnapped? Or—wait—do people still say kidnapped when it's an adult? Maybe abducted is the right term?"
I sighed. "What am I even thinking? I need to get out of here."
Then I heard it.
"Slurp. Slurp."
"Huh?"
"Slurp. Slurp. Slurp."
The strange sound echoed faintly through the void. It didn't take me long to find the source—someone was sitting across from me.
A woman. Or at least, the shape of one.
She was dressed in flowing robes that shimmered faintly like mist. Her face… I couldn't see it. Something blurred it, as though reality itself didn't want me to. But she was definitely eating noodles.
She held a bowl in one hand, chopsticks in the other, and was happily slurping away.
That bowl looked oddly familiar… but I couldn't quite place it.
Still, she was the only person here. If anyone had answers, it was her.
"Um, excuse me," I called.
No response.
She just kept slurping.
"Excuse me!" I said louder this time.
Finally, she paused, sighed, and looked up—well, probably looked up."Young man," she said, sounding mildly annoyed, "don't you think it's rude to interrupt someone while they're eating?"
"Ah, sorry," I said quickly.
So I waited. The air—or whatever counted as air here—was unnervingly still.
After a while, she finished eating, set the bowl down on the table, and took a sip of tea.
I cleared my throat. "So, um… what's going on here? Who are you? Where are we? Why am I here?"
She chuckled softly. "Young man, slow down, slow down. We have plenty of time. I'll answer everything, but first, take a breath."
I inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly, and asked again, "Alright. Then… what's going on here?"
She placed her cup down gently."First of all," she said calmly, "you're dead."
I blinked. "...I'm what?"
Before she could elaborate, I shot up from my seat."Whaaaaaaaaaaaaat?!"
My voice echoed through the white void.
After flailing in disbelief for a moment, I slowly sat back down and sighed. "Okay… that actually explains a lot. The white space, the random tea table, the mysterious noodle lady. So… is this where you decide whether I go to hell or not?"
She chuckled again—a soft, soothing laugh that somehow made the place feel less cold.
"Oh? Thank you for the compliment," she said.
I froze. "Wait. You can hear my thoughts?"
"Of course. And yes," she said with a faint amusement, "I'm a goddess. More precisely, the Goddess of Reincarnation—Trista."
I swallowed hard. "Right. Makes sense. I'm talking to a goddess. Totally normal day."
Trista smiled—at least, I thought she did."Now, about your death," she said, her tone turning a little apologetic. "You didn't die from illness or an accident. It was… a clerical mistake on our end. A misfiled soul, so to speak. I'm terribly sorry about that."
"Oh."
That was all I managed.
She tilted her head. "You're… surprisingly calm for someone who was accidentally killed by divine error. Most people scream or demand compensation."
Satoru let out a dry chuckle. "Living a good life? Maybe. But happy? Not so much."
Her voice softened. "Oh? Why is that?"
He hesitated, then spoke quietly.
"As you probably know, I was an orphan. My parents abandoned me at an orphanage when I was a baby—or so the sisters said. Growing up there was… rough. The older kids bullied us, took our food. I learned early that the only way out was through studying. So I did. Hard.
"I got into a good school on scholarship. Then a good university. Worked part-time jobs just to survive. Eventually, I landed a good job in Tokyo. From the outside, that's a success story. But honestly? I was just tired. My life was a checklist of responsibilities. Study. Work. Sleep. Repeat.
"When I was in kindergarten, during Parents' Day, everyone's moms and dads would cheer when they answered questions. I had no one. I realized then—I was alone in the world. I wanted someone, anyone, to be proud of me. But no one ever was.
"So I worked harder, hoping maybe the world would notice. But all I became was a cog that never stopped turning. My whole life, I was chasing something I couldn't name. I guess… I was chasing warmth."
By the end, his voice was trembling. He wiped his eyes, surprised that tears still came even after death.
Trista's tone turned soft, almost motherly. "Poor child."
He managed a weak laugh. "Ghosts can cry, huh? Guess that's new."
After a moment, he asked quietly, "So… what happens next?"
Trista folded her hands gracefully and said,"First, let me properly introduce myself. I am Trista, the Goddess of Reincarnation. And as you've already guessed…"
Her voice echoed like a melody in the void.
"I'm going to reincarnate you."
Would you like me to continue with how Trista offers him choices for reincarnation (e.g., new world, special ability, or purpose)?I can write the next part in the same tone — balanced between gentle humor and quiet emotion — to flow naturally into the start of his new life.