Alexis pov:

  July 3rd, 2025 - Earth

  Thunk.

  The sound of that massive pile of job listings and clippings slamming onto the table was enough to make my damn soul cringe. And there she was—Mama, about to explode. Her face was as pale as a corpse, but the anger radiating off her was like she’d swallowed a dragon’s fire. Fucking hell, here we go again!

  "ALEX!" She practically shrieked, her eyes bulging like she was about to pop. "Mr. Lishen is one of Pastiel Mechanical Conglomerate’s directors! He owns 40% of my company's shares, and you need to talk to him! NOW!"

  Jesus, Mama, I swear to the gods, I’m about to die from second-hand stress! I shoved my hands deeper into the pockets of my stupidly tight black jeans, not even blinking. God, I gotta finish that track... It’s so close to being right, but not quite there...!

  "Mama, no offense, but Mr. Li’s company is just a bunch of ancient dudes pushing buttons on MS Excel. The last thing I wanna be doing is wasting time with him for some dead-end nine-to-five! I KNOW I can make this work, I just need a little more tweaking on my voice! That’s it, I swear!” She glared at me like I’d just told her I was quitting life to become a professional potato farmer.

  Please, please let this go, Mama! I just need five more minutes to finish this! Fuck, I don’t even care anymore!

  Her hand slammed onto the table like a thunderclap, and she was up on her feet so fast I half-expected her to launch into a full-on exorcism. "You! Get it straight, young man! This is THE Pastiel Mechanical Conglomerate!"

  “Mama, please...” I sighed, trying to keep my cool even though her freakouts were like listening to a broken record playing in reverse. God, I just want to sleep. Like, for a thousand years. Please!

  "Mr. Li’s company is fine, but I’m not doing that!" I ran my fingers through my long hair. "I would’ve thought about it if it were a label, but—"

  Before I could finish, she interrupted, her voice rising so high I thought the walls might crack. "Enough! Don’t talk to me about those stupid dreams of yours! There’s a difference between dreams and reality! Is this what I paid all your school fees for? All the effort to get you top grades and into that overpriced college? Alex, either you get a real job, doing real thing or you can pack your shit and leave!"

  This is it! The official ‘Go find somewhere else to sleep’ speech. I’m really getting this shit from my own fucking mother? My face didn’t budge an inch, and I just stood there, calm as a damn cucumber. Don’t fucking crack, don’t do it. Hold it together, babe! Hold it together!

  "Mama," I said, keeping my voice even though I felt like punching a hole in the wall. "I have friends. I can crash with them if it comes to that. If you’re not gonna support me, then there’s nothing else to say." ...And I know you won’t actually kick me out. You're too soft for that. Love you too much for that, old lady! I didn’t even wait for her to reply. I just shot her a polite, robotic smile and turned toward the door. I might have been a gangly mess, but fuck it, at least I had walked like I didn’t just give a damn about her freak-out.

  And look, I only tripped on one floorboard this time! That’s progress, right?

  And, of course, as soon as I touched the doorknob, she lost it. "Alexis! How dare you talk to me like this! I'm telling you to stop—" The door slammed shut behind me, cutting off whatever else she had to say. Seconds later, thumping and her shouts reached me as I tried to tune them out.

  Go away go away go away, I don't want to fucking talk about it! I chanted in my head, my skull pounding with each thump. I grabbed the half-empty bottle of Tylenol on my shelf and tossed down a few pills. Best investment I ever made, don't gotta let her know my issues! I thought as I closed my eyes and the thumping subsided, and Mama finally gave up.

  Thank the gods above...

  Then, as I sat on the table, the pill bottle clenched in my hand, gritting my teeth, the floodgates finally opened. Tears spilled down my cheeks, and a choked sob ripped out of my throat. Why the fuck can't my goddamn voice just fucking work? It's the only thing holding me back.

  I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself, but I knew it was all futile. I know all the chords, how to remix the shit out of any track, I can write the lyrics that hit, I can come up with names and ideas no one's even thought of yet—but my fucking throat ruins it all!

  Fucking useless!

  I could be a goddamn star, top of the charts, a pop sensation, killing it! BUT NOOOOOOOO. I'm stuck with this raspy piece of shit voice that sounds like nails on a chalkboard! That's all anyone hears—my fucking voice. Every goddamn time!

  Fuck just looking at those past collabs!

  Those artists singing MY lyrics on MY music and yet THEY get all the fucking credit! Doesn't matter that I had to re-record them and corral them into singing the way I wanted the song! Doesn’t matter if my name is first in the credits! People only subscribe to me cause they think I'm the SINGER. Likes stop rolling in the moment they realize I'm the glorified video editor! And any person cultured enough to know and appreciate my talents... well they don't look for this shit on mother-fucking YouTube, do they?

  My head landed down on the table with a thump, my throat burned as I barely registered the pain in my forehead.

  I know I can do it. I know it. I can feel it when I'm playing, when I'm making those beats, when I'm singing along to a track in my head. I can hear it, like I'm already there, already shining, already on top. All of it is right within reach. But my fucking throat just won't let me!

  Why the fuck does it have to be me? Why the fuck couldn't I get the voice? The shiny, perfect, autotune-can-suck-a-dick, making boys-or-girls-cream-their-pants, sorta voice! Now I'm just some guy who knows how to make music but can't do shit with it. Just sitting here, watching everyone else get their moment, their voice. And I'm stuck. Stuck in this fucking limbo.

  Talent doesn't mean shit if you can't deliver.

  "...Why even bother...?" I muttered, not realizing that the room around me was starting to swirl.

  Mama's right. She's always right, isn't she? What the fuck am I doing, chasing a dream I'll never get? Maybe I should've listened to her. Maybe I should use that dusty old science degree to get some job. Get a real job, do real things. But I can't. Not when I know what I could've been...

  Blinks and flashes lit up in my vision, distracting me from the inner tirade as I finally look up.

  Great. Now my vision's doing its own thing, throwing a light show right in my face. What the fuck—

  I tried to focus, but random crap on the shelf decides to play zoom-in-zoom-out like it was auditioning for some bad VR game. God, my head hurts, what the hell is going on— And the sound? Crackling, buzzing, rising, falling —it was like someone was frying static in my ears.

  Awesome! NOT!

  I pushed myself up, or at least I tried. My legs felt like someone swapped them out for cement blocks—thanks body, love the teamwork. Of course, I ended up collapsing back into the chair, sending it wobbling like it had a death wish. Just as I thought it couldn't get worse—oh, no, wait.

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  I tipped over.

  Fan-fuckin-tastic!

  My brilliant reflexes gave me one option: stare straight ahead as the edge of the desk rushed to greet my face.

  Closer.

  Closer.

  CRACK!

  -----

  Next thing I knew, I was sitting in some weird chair. Clouds. It's a chair made of clouds.

  How the fuck—

  And there, right in front of me, a swirling ball floated in my face. Inside that ball? Oh, you know, me. Curled up on the floor of my room, blood dripping down my head. Cute. Real cute.

  The red really brings out the color of my floorboards, huh?

  I blinked. Once. Twice. Trying to figure out if this is a dream or some messed-up fever hallucination. Did I fucking overdose? On Tylenol? WHO OVERDOSES ON TYLENOL!! My head was pounding, which didn't even make sense because, uh, pretty sure dead people don't get migraines!

  Right?

  Whatever.

  I looked up, and there it was—a literal being of light.

  Fantastic. Looks like I’ve hit the afterlife jackpot! Tylenol doesn't cause hallucinations, right?

  "So... I died?" The words felt weird coming out of my mouth. Like, I should have felt something about this—Sad? Maybe? Grief-stricken? Bawling my fucking eyes out? Yeah... Except all I could muster was a half-baked shrug in my head.

  Mom's constant guilt trips? Gone.

  My non-existent music career? Gone-er.

  My non-existent friends? Oh no, who's going to be their background character now?

  God, I’m a mess!

  The glowing being slumped forward, like even they were tired of my shit. Guess this was supposed to be God. Or a god. Or to be more specific—what they told me—a "god-like being of unfathomable power."

  Pfft—yeah, right!

  I squinted at them, half-expecting a choir of angels or some dramatic trumpeting, or at least Jesus to come give me a high five. Nope! Just awkward silence and some jazz hands from the god-like being. Then—bam. Ideas and words shoved their way into my brain, uninvited.

  A mistake. Too soon. Not your time. SORRY~

  I blinked again, trying to make sense of the cosmic PowerPoint presentation they just dumped into my head. "So... what now? Heaven? Hell? Purgatory? Is this the part where I get judged or something?" The being flailed a little, hands waving around like they were trying to signal a plane. More words hit me, scrambled and half-broken.

  Great, even celestial beings can't communicate properly!

  My headache got worse as the being expressed some more remorse at my death. Dead and still getting headaches. Love that for me. Can I overdose on ‘celestial’ Tylenol and go to a heavenlier heaven? Preferably one with a talking ‘god-like being’ instead of Dr. Jazz Hands?

  I sighed, leaning back into the stupid cloud chair. It’s even fucking ergonomic—of course it is! Heaven’s really pulling out all the stops for my afterlife experience. Before I could stew on that, more ideas slammed into my skull.

  Second chance. New life. New world. Magic? Power? WISH—?

  I blinked. Frowned. "Wait. Hold up. Do I get a second chance? The fuck. I’m getting isekai’ed?!" My voice cracked at the end, disbelief dripping from every syllable. The glowing god-thing just tilted their shiny head at me like—yeah, duh. I blinked at them, still not buying it.

  "And I get a wish? Like magic powers or something?" I asked, squinting because there was no way this was real. They nodded again, casual as hell like this was some kind of cosmic fast-food order. "Hey there! Welcome to The Pearly Plate, what can I get for you today? Would you like a side of fries with that order of the greatest wish of your life?"

  I sat there, dumbfounded, for what felt like a solid minute, trying to piece my brain back together. Then it hit me. A wish. A whole-ass wish. My heart stuttered—okay, focus, don't fuck this up. I took a deep breath. "...If I’m going to live again... Can I sing this time? Like, really sing? Really really REALLY sing? With a good voice? One that’s melodic, charming, makes people actually like me?"

  The being tilted their head at me again, like a dog trying to understand algebra. Then, just one single concept slammed into my head:

  That's it?

  I stared at them, blinking like an idiot. A small ball of glowing, swirling energy—cosmic and kind of beautiful, if I wasn’t so pissed off—appeared in their hand. A little flick of their hand told me that this was the cost of fulfilling my dream. I frowned, staring at the tiny thing.

  That little pea-sized speck of stardust is all it takes for me to have a decent voice…?

  And then I lost it.

  "THAT’S IT?!" I yelled, throwing my hands up in the air. "The one thing I begged for my entire life—the one thing that would've changed everything for me—and it costs that?!" My voice cracked, my hands flailing like I was trying to fight the air. "Why the fuck didn’t one of you assholes grant it when I was alive, huh?! It’s not like I asked for much! Just one thing!"

  The god-thing didn’t even flinch. Just floated there, all serene and glowing while I lost my shit. Figures. Bastards, the lot of them! Hmpf! I scoffed, crossing my arms like a sulky kid. "Fine," I spat out. "You know what? If it’s that easy, then make me extremely fucking powerful too. Yeah, I said it. Break the goddamn world’s understanding of magic with how strong I am. Super OP, unbalanced as hell, like the usual isekai main characters! I don’t even care anymore. Just do it."

  I hadn’t even expected a response, but then the being nodded. They nodded. Another ball of energy appeared, this one the size of a damn melon. The two blobs—my voice-wish pea and my magic-wish melon—started swirling around each other like a tiny solar system in their hand.

  What the actual fuck. Dude, are you not worried I’ll take over the world and like slaughter people?? Or do you not care? You are pushing me into the world owned by some other god, aren’t you? Making me their problem??

  Anything else...? the being asked, their mental tone somehow curious despite not having a mouth.

  I froze, my brain short-circuiting. "I—wha..." I took a deep breath, trying to process the sheer absurdity of this situation. "Can... Can I choose my age? OR at least, my appearance?? I don’t want to look like some old dude, or a little loli kid! Make me around, 20 to 25ish? I want to be good-looking and legal, you know?"

  I chuckled a little but stopped when the being nodded again and an even tinier little speck of stardust traveled in to join the little solar system in their hands. I decided, fuck it! Video Game Character Creation Time, I guess!

  "What about my race?" I finally asked, my voice a little shaky. "Like, I don’t want to die early or anything. If I’m getting a new life, I’d like it to be a long one. What are my options? There’s gotta be fantasy races, right?"

  The being nodded again, and then—BAM.

  My head was assaulted with a million images, rapid-fire like someone was scrolling through a monster manual on steroids. Animals, plants, monsters, elementals—it was endless. There was even a good 20-minute section of just different types of succubi! Good lord, it’s like a porn reel—

  "OKAY, OKAY, FILTER IT OUT! STOP, STOP!" I yelled, clutching my head as the headache from hell set in. I gasped, leaning forward, trying to catch my breath. Goddamn it, you glowing bastard!

  "Okay," I panted, holding up a hand to stop them from throwing more shit at me. "Let’s set some ground rules. Humanoid shape. Male body. Longer-lived than Humans. Cool? Okay. Now show me the options."

  I swore, if they threw more crap my way, I’d flip this dumb cloud chair over.

  And, of course, they hit me with more crap.

  Bullhorn Minotaurs, Longhorn Minotaurs, Highlander Minotaurs, Jersey Minotaurs, Brahman Minotaurs, Guernsey Minotaurs, Angus Minotaurs, Charolais Minotaurs, Hereford Minotaurs, Simmental Minotaurs, Zebu Minotaurs, Bison Minotaurs—

  Astaroth’s Heralds, Baal’s Commanders, Zoroastrian Daevas, Fallen Jinns, Hindu Rakshasas, Vedic Asuras, Shaitan’s Legion, Yama’s Reapers, Fallen Tanar’ri, Djinn of the Inferno, Marid Hellbound, Naamah’s Enforcers, Moloch’s Disciples, Legion’s Forsaken, Chthonic Furies, Thamuzian Knights—

  "OH MY GOD, STOP!" I screamed, already about to pull my ectoplasmic hair out. "NEW RULE: No more hyper-specific nonsense! If it’s a Minotaur, just say Minotaur. I don’t need fifty bajillion different types of cows and buffalo tacked onto it! And the hyper-specific stuff? The sub-species or whatever? You pick it! I’m done!"

  I collapsed back onto the cloud chair, feeling my head start to throb, and I was marginally sure that I was going to pass out from the overload of information. Souls don't get nosebleeds, but migraines? Yeah, that's a thing. Lucky me!

  Of course, more shit was thrown my way despite my clear instructions of not doing hyper-specific shit.

  Stormborn Elves, Infernal Demons, Shadowkin, Abyssal Fiends, Stonehearth Dwarves, Celestial Templars, Nephilim, Tempest Trolls, Succubi's Thrall, Nightshroud Fae, Fallen Angels, Ironclad Goliaths, Inferno Djinn, Forestborn Shapeshifters, Moonlit Sylphs—

  "DEMONS! I PICK DEMONS! DEMONS, for god's sake, just—" I slumped deeper into the cloud chair, my head pounding harder now. This is fucking insane. How the hell am I supposed to think straight with all this crap flying at me?! I couldn’t even hear myself think anymore. My brain felt like it was drowning in a cosmic mess.

  "Pick the demons. ANY type of demon. The specific type you can choose based on what you think of me! Something that I'll enjoy based on your impression of me. I don't care!" I gasped out, choking on the weight of it all. The being nodded, thought for a second, and then another ball of cosmic stardust—this time reddish brown—joined the chaotic mess in their hands. Then, a weirdly pulsing translucent blue ball the size of a golf ball floated in and swallowed up the entire system. I could still see the five balls thrumming and revolving around each other inside the blue sphere, like some fucked-up celestial wind-up toy. The being leaned in closer to me without me noticing.

  Good luck...

  I felt it as they pushed the system deep into my chest, my lungs tightening. The stars and everything around me started to fall, like I was being dragged into an endless abyss. My cloud chair disintegrated underneath me without so much as a warning, sending me plummeting down into the depths with a single scream of:

  "FUCKKKKKKKKK YOUUUUUUUUUUUU!!”

  END