That night, Philip decided he had officially reached the limit of ignorance.
Three weeks of work, seven near-deaths, two nervous breakdowns, and one report on hallucinatory bunnies later, he realized he knew absolutely nothing about the world he was in.
"Let's recap," he muttered, lying on his bed and staring at the stone ceiling. "I got electrocuted at work, woke up in a magical kingdom, became a spell tech support guy, and nobody finds it weird that I don't have magic. And I'm okay with all this because… what? The coffee's free?"
He turned to the side with a frustrated sigh.
The room smelled like parchment ink and humidity. The entire castle seemed to groan at night, like it had chronic sinus issues. Somewhere down the hall, a goblin coughed in a deeply existential way.
Philip sat up."Nope. I can't do this. I need to understand how this works. Who dropped me here, what is this system, and most importantly—does it offer a career path for undead office workers?"
He looked around, took a deep breath, and raised his hands dramatically."Okay, System! This is it. I know you can hear me. Let's talk. I have questions. A lot of questions."
Silence.
Philip blinked."…Okay, maybe it needs a specific command. Something like 'open support.'" He cleared his throat. "System, open ticket."
Nothing.
"System, human representative." — pause — "System, let me speak to your manager!"
The air stayed quiet. The candle flickered as if mocking him.
Philip rubbed his face."Of course. Even the afterlife system doesn't have decent customer service."
He threw himself back on the bed and covered his face with the pillow.
He stayed there for a few seconds, motionless, then muttered under the fabric,"Maybe I'm saying it wrong. Maybe it needs a password. Or maybe the system only answers to people with magic. And guess who doesn't have any?" He sighed. "Employee of the Month in Hell, that's who."
He turned to the side, watching the weak candlelight dance."Alright, universe. I get it. You're like that boss who never replies to emails, huh? You only show up when it's to mess someone up."
Silence. No divine voice, no glowing message, not even a single interdimensional ping.
The candle finally went out.
Philip lay there in the dark, murmuring to himself,"I just wanted a manual. A PDF. A help tab. Anything."
A cold breeze slipped through the window, making the curtains sway. He stared at the ceiling and muttered,"Fine. Message received. Silence it is."
He closed his eyes, defeated."Congrats, System. You win. But not forever. I'll find your support button, even if I have to reformat this whole world."
And with that thought—one worthy of a man teetering on the edge of administrative collapse—Philip drifted to sleep.
In the darkness, the castle kept its complicit silence—the kind of silence that laughs on the inside.