Don't let anyone convince you to buy things you never need.
...........
Lynn walked around without a sound, his eyes scanning the strange, fragmented landscape around him.
The air was still heavy like time itself had given up trying to move forward.
Statues lay in ruins, their faces half-erased, as if memory had started to decay. Pieces of broken furniture, shattered glass, and rusted metal were scattered like remnants of a life long forgotten.
He crouched next to a cracked statue, running his fingers over its rough surface.
"Empty. This place is hollow."
He stood up, brushing dust from his coat.
"A mind can't really be this abandoned… can it?"
Then, after a pause, more to himself than anything else:
"Or maybe I'm just giving up too soon."
"One year" he scoffed under his breath.
"He won't last a month.
Might not even survive his first night."
He exhaled tired, but not defeated and kept walking.
...
I jolted awake, breath caught in my throat.
"Jesus… what the hell was that?"
My heart was pounding like I'd just run a mile. I stared at the ceiling, trying to shake the image of Lynn wandering through that eerie wasteland,my mind.
I kept telling myself he couldn't affect me in there.
It was my domain.
My head. My rules.
But something was off.
I could move my eyes. I could speak. But my body wouldn't budge.
It just lay there numb and disconnected.
Like I was the one trapped inside him.
Sunlight spilled through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the floor.
I couldn't tell if it was morning or evening. The light had that in-between quality, soft and gold, like the day couldn't make up its mind.
It was the same ceiling, same room but something was different.
My head felt clearer. Vision sharper. Maybe I was just out of it last time, disoriented. But now I could actually see.
The room was... extravagant.
Like something out of a fantasy anime tall shelves packed with leather-bound books, deep red curtains framing the windows, polished wood furniture carved with delicate designs.
It felt too rich, too perfect to be real.
But I noticed things. Little things.
Slight changes that told me this place wasn't frozen,it was active.
The colors were more vivid now, almost unnaturally so. Even the bed felt different -softer, warmer, as if someone had just fluffed the pillows minutes before I woke.
Maybe I was just getting used to this body.
Or maybe it was getting used to me.
Then I noticed this weird smell.
Subtle, but unmistakable.
The stale scent of something old. Not quite rotten but close. Like an attic that hadn't been opened in years, or a book soaked by time.
I glanced around again. Everything looked spotless. The curtains were crisp. The floors were clean enough to reflect light. It was like the room had been freshly prepared for someone important.
And then it hit me.
The only thing out of place in this perfect room… was me.
The scent was coming from my own skin. My own breath.
I could feel it now how heavy my limbs were, how stiff. Like my body had been left sitting too long in a place it didn't belong.
The old, worn-out thing in this magical room,the one thing that didn't belong was my body.
Maybe this was the difference.
The room was made of magic.
And I was not.
Maybe this is what magic looks like when it's alive.
And this body is something what it looks like when it's not.
.....
The next few minutes passed in a blur. Or maybe they crawled. Time felt elastic here like stretching, folding, snapping back again.
I was getting restless.
"This damn body won't move"
I growled through clenched teeth.
"Come on… just respond already."
I tried again-straining, focusing everything I had on the simple act of sitting up. My fingers. My legs. My chest. I poured effort into every single nerve, every stiff, unresponsive muscle, just to roll over or lift an arm.
Nothing.
It was like trying to move underwater, with weights tied to my limbs.
I gritted my teeth, jaw tight with frustration. Waiting around felt useless. Maybe they'd already given up on Lynn. Maybe they thought he was dead and this room was just some twisted tribute. A memorial suite with his rotting body on display like a piece of vintage art.
"Perfect , I'm furniture now."
Fantasy worlds are psychotic like that. You think you're stepping into a realm of wonder and magic and then you realize you're just one misplaced soul away from being part of some cultist's interior design.
This is hopeless.
But something was changing.
My body was starting to feel… warm. Not from comfort,this was internal.
Like an engine slowly sputtering back to life after years in the cold.
"Oh lord "
"Looks like my metabolism finally decided to reboot."
The warmth crawled through my chest, down my arms, into my legs.
It wasn't exactly pleasant it felt like waking up with a fever.
A heavy, burning fog spreading from the inside out.
"At this rate, it'll take a year just to stand without collapsing."
And then, of course, the real problem came rushing back to me.
"That horror lady is probably already rounding up another pack of hellhounds to rip me apart when I return to her death realm."
I swallowed hard, throat dry.
"I did sell my soul, after all. And once she reads the fine print on the terms I gave her… yeah. She's gonna be pissed."
There was no way I could afford to wait this out. Not if I wanted to avoid ending up as a chew toy for some demonic mutts in the afterlife.
"Can't let that happen."
Just when I'd finally started to wonder how I was even supposed to get out of bed, the doorknob turned with a soft click.
A middle-aged woman in a maid's uniform stepped inside, holding a long-handled sweeper in one hand and with a look of routine indifference.
I froze. Instinctively, I shut my eyes.
"Stay still. Don't let her notice."
She walked around the room, the quiet scuff of her shoes tracing lazy loops across the floor.
I could hear her shifting objects-books, maybe a lamp, something clinking as it was set down a little harder than necessary. She wasn't careful.
Then she came closer to the bed.
She started lifting my arms, one by one, then my legs, like I was a mannequin someone had forgotten to store properly. With short, efficient motions, she wiped the sheets underneath me.
Her touch wasn't cruel, but it wasn't gentle either. Just mechanical. Like this was the tenth bed she'd done today and she was already thinking about lunch.
I felt... like something left behind. Something processed and repurposed so many times it had lost its original shape.
She kept working around me, tucking corners, fluffing the pillow like it hadn't moved in days.
Nice and tidy.
But me? I was still here. Still heavy.
Still wrecked.
"Just sweep me too, Mrs. Maid,"
I thought bitterly.
"I smell like crap."
She adjusted me like I was a stubborn piece of furniture but gently and with clear frustration,tucking my limbs back into their original spots on the wide bed. Like I belonged to the decor more than the family.
Then she started muttering under her breath, just loud enough for me to hear.
"Just wake up and start cleaning by yourself damn it.
My back hurts."
"Either live like everybody else in this house or just... die already.
For everyone's sake."
Well, that escalated.
"Don't just pretend to be sleeping forever."
I didn't move.
Not because I was trying to make a point but because I just couldn't.
Not yet. Maybe not ever. But try explaining that to someone wielding a sweeper like it's a moral compass.
"It's exhausting cleaning your room"
she groaned as she straightened up, as if the dust and my corpse-like presence were somehow conspiring against her spine.
Honestly? Fair.
She kept cursing under her breath as she walked out,if it had been a young maid maybe one of those cute anime types with big eyes and questionable proportions,I might've let it slide. Maybe even enjoyed it.
But getting scolded by a cranky middle-aged maid right after reincarnating?
That's just bad luck.
Cosmic-level bad luck.
The room went quiet again. Still. Heavy.
I was about to crack one eye open, maybe finally do something with this second life,then in a second everything inside me just suddenly flickered.
My mind Blurred.
System reinitializing... 99%
_ _ _ _ _ _
"What the hell? System?"
The system detects change in user's presence.
Body stats: unchanged.
Mana level: undetected.
Scanning...
Vital signs unstable.
Chances of survival: below 5%.
Do you want to reinitiate the system?
[ Yes ] / [ No ]
The prompt blinked again.
[ Yes ] / [ No ]
System strongly recommends: "Yes."
Critical condition detected.
Mana levels: zero.
Vital signs: unstable.
"Reinitiation increases survival chance to 18%."
"Eighteen?" I muttered mentally.
"Wow. Inspiring."
"Statistical increase from current 4.8%."
"Oh no, don't sell yourself short."
The blinking continued, patient and unbothered
"Do you wish to reinitiate the system?"
[ Yes ] / [ No ]
I didn't answer right away. Let it sit.
Let it sweat, if systems could sweat.
"No."
The cursor paused mid-blink.
"…No?"
"Correct."
"That decision may result in full neurological shutdown and permanent death."
"Honestly, at this point? Sounds like a nap with extra steps."
"System is your only functional support resource."
I gave a dry mental laugh.
"That's cute.
But you see, Lynn got more screwed because of you. So no thanks."
Another silence. This one heavier.
The blinking cursor stalled for a beat.
"Clarify: user intends to reject system aid entirely?"
"I'm not just rejecting you.
I'm walking out of the tutorial."
Another long pause.
The system stuttered. For once, it didn't know what to say.
"…Processing unexpected deviation."
"Yeah, get used to that.
I'm the glitch in your probability curve."
"...This is unwise."
"I've been doing unwise since before reincarnation. Trust me this is just me being consistent."
"System exists to assist and preserve the user's existence.
Refusal is illogical."
"You want illogical?" I scoffed.
"I woke up in a dead-weight body with zero mana, got dragged around by a grumpy maid, and now I'm being nagged by a glorified spreadsheet with a god complex."
A pause.
"User is exhibiting signs of mental instability."
"Try being reincarnated without a tutorial, system. See how you hold up."
"Reinitiation may allow for access to class traits, unique abilities, and critical survival tools."
"Oh wow! Tools I'll never use because I'm too busy being unconscious and mocked by middle-aged janitorial staff! Sign me up!"
"Sarcasm detected. Useless."
"Right back at you, buddy."
"User, you are not in a position to reject help."
"That's the thing, though. I am.
And I am very good at rejecting things. Scholarships. Compliments. Stability. You're just next on the list."
"The system is your only chance."
"…Processing deviation…"
"…Query: Are you certain?"
"More certain than the fact that you sound like you're sweating."
"That is biologically impossible for an artificial—"
"Yeah, yeah. Technicalities.
Look system? I don't need you.
I'm gonna figure this out the same way I've done everything else: blind, bleeding, and way too stubborn to die on time."
"User is behaving irrationally."
"You're behaving like an insecure toaster."
"Survival rate now approaching 2.9%. Final opportunity: reinitiate system?"
I paused for dramatic effect.
Then mentally flipped it.
"No. And by the way f*** you."
The silence that followed wasn't technical. It was personal.
The air itself felt colder.
"…Acknowledged."
"System entering permanent dormant state.
Outcome: unfavorable."
"Good luck, Fake Lynn."
"You are Pathetic too"
Then silence.
Actual silence.
No more prompts. No numbers.
No AI whispers hovering over my consciousness.
I lay there, broken, heavy, and strangely satisfied.
"No stats, no skills, no cheat codes,"
I whispered to the ceiling.
"Now that's survival mode."
And just like that, the system,
it was gone.
No blinking. No beeping. Just silence.
But this time, the quiet felt earned.
As soon as the system went silent, something moved inside me.
It wasn't loud or violent. Just... stillness, peeling away like old skin.
For a second, I thought I was dying. Like my soul was being pulled from the body in thin, silent threads.
But it wasn't death. Not exactly.
It was release.
A pressure I hadn't even known was there vanished, like a cage I'd gotten used to living inside without ever seeing the bars.
I didn't flinch. I didn't even blink.
Because somehow, I knew this wasn't the system leaving.
This was the part of me it had buried. The part it kept quiet.
I exhaled, slowly.
My breath felt heavier than it should've.
"So this is what freedom feels like…"
Lynn had been stuck in a loop.
Not due to.....just fate... but design.
And I had almost bought into it.
"I should've known" I muttered.
"Too clean. Too scripted.
A system that conveniently shows up when you're most vulnerable?"
I clenched my hand. It twitched.
Just slightly. Enough to feel real.
"The fact I'm still alive after rejecting it... that's the real red flag."
It was never about saving Lynn. It was about containing him.
Shaping him into something predictable. Something useful.
"Vahel was the hidden maker of this script."
I am almost sure of it now.
"Vahel."The name sat in my chest like a loaded gun.
She wasn't just part of his past.
She was the author of it.
And the system? Her leash.
"Of course it was her..." I whispered. "She didn't just ruin his life.
She made sure the next one would follow the same damn path."
My body trembled,not from fear but from finally knowing.
There might be some hidden reason,this can't be considered as the whole picture.
This isn't just survival anymore.
The limbs that had been unresponsive just moments ago… finally moved.
At first it was small, just a twitch.
But it was mine. My will, flowing through this body.
No system, no interface, no strings.
Just me.
And for the first time since waking up,
I felt something real.
Not pain. Not weight. Not fear.
Life.
The stiffness that clung to me like rot, the god-awful smell of being bedridden for who-knows-how-long, was all gone.
Just me...in this body.
And… alive.
I let out a quiet laugh croaky, unstable, but real.
"This body's still foreign… but it's mine now."
I swung my legs over the bed, moving slow. Careful. Each motion like testing an old machine that had finally started working again. My feet touched the ground. Cold. Solid.
I stood.
Unsteady, but upright.
I straightened my back a little, adjusted my posture stiff, but manageable and walked toward the window.
The light of the evening sun poured through the glass, warm and golden, landing right on my face.
I squinted. It hurt, but in the best way.
A reminder that I was back.
Alive.
I smiled.
"Feels just like Superman who got revived after getting killed by… uh—"
I paused.
Frowned.
"…What was the name of that villain again?"
I shrugged.
"Eh....Doesn't matter."
The wind brushed against the window. The world outside moved on, unaware that someone who was supposed to stay buried had just stood up again.
It felt refreshing.
And just when I started to feel my moment like something inside me had finally aligned with the world,the door knob twisted again.
Same click. Same creak. Same rhythm.
The same old maid walked in like clockwork, her expression blank, movements automatic. Like she'd done this a thousand times.
She didn't even look at me.
Just walked past right where the bed used to hold my corpse of a body completely ignoring the fact that I wasn't lying there anymore.
She went to the corner, picked up her sweeper, and gave a small sigh, like this was just another day. Another chore.
Then she glanced at the bed.
Empty.
And her eyes casually shifted toward me.
Just a second.
One glance.
Not shock. Not recognition.
Just a blink.
And then… she turned back around, hand reaching for the doorknob again.
Routine intact.
But then—she stopped.
Mid-step.
Frozen.
Her fingers hovered just above the door.
I saw her shoulders tense, like someone had hit pause on her entire body.
No words. No sound.
Just that one sharp moment where something had changed.
She had changed.
I stared at her, not moving.
She didn't turn around. But I could see it now her hand was trembling. Slight, almost invisible... but it was there.
Something wasn't right.
And for the first time, I wondered:
"Was she really just a maid?"
She turned slightly, finally acknowledging me not with alarm, but with a small, startled smile. Like she hadn't truly expected me to be awake... or even real.
"Oh… you're awake, Master Lynn."
Her voice tried to sound composed, but I could hear the faint tremor beneath it.
"I'll inform the Head right away."
She moved as if to leave but paused. Looked back again. This time, longer. Like she wasn't sure I was actually standing there.
Like my presence still hadn't fully registered.
Her smile faltered just slightly.
"You're… fine, right? Master?"
I stared at her, eyes steady.
"No. I'm not, Mrs. Maid."
I kept my tone even. Honest.
"I don't know who you are.
I don't remember anything.
My past is..... gone."
I let the silence breathe for a beat.
"You might want to inform them of that as well."
Her expression cracked.
It wasn't shock.
It was something deeper. Older.
Her face collapsed into a tired kind of pity like this wasn't the first time she'd heard those words… and she was already exhausted by them.
She nodded slowly, lips pressed tight.
Not in denial. Not in understanding. Just... resignation.
The kind that says: "Here we go again."