One minute, he was scrolling memes. The next? Crushed by a piano and yeeted into the afterlife.

Enter System 707: snarky, glitchy, and very much not interested in customer service.

Now stuck in the Multi-Existence Synchronization Protocol -  aka: “die, jump worlds, survive if you can” - our unlucky (...or lucky?) protagonist is reincarnating across increasingly unhinged realities. 

Skills transfer, memories stick, and dying? Unfortunately still on the menu.

He never signed up for romance, but fate (and System 707's terrible sense of humor) keeps throwing him into tangled soul-deep connections with the same man - or versions of him,  over and over again.

One world at a time, one sarcastic reboot later, he’s realizing the rules of existence aren’t just broken - they’re personalized chaos.

Fall in love. Try not to die. And whatever you do, don’t piss off the system.

Because dying once is unfortunate. Dying again? That’s just Tuesday.

I woke up with something heavy draped over me.


Warm. Solid. Scented like smoke and steel and the vaguest hint of crushed violets.


My legs ache. My back aches. My soul? …in the middle of filing a lawsuit for emotional whiplash.


My everything hurts. But not in a bad way.


…In a way that screamed "CONGRATULATIONS, YOU DIED (AGAIN), AND THIS TIME IT WAS ON A BED."


The memory hit me like a whole goddamn freight train. 


I slapped both palms over my face, heat crawling up my neck like a wildfire on steroids. My thighs instinctively pressed together as a delayed wave of everything from last night came crashing back like–


AND— WHY WAS HE SO GOOD AT THAT?! WHAT WAS THAT TONGUE DOING THERE?!


I rolled onto my side, only to remember that–oh right. He was still there. 


Half-draped over my back, face nuzzled into my hair, breathing so damn peacefully like he didn't just ruin me from the inside out.


The terrifyingly powerful, heart-stoppingly attractive Commander of this world… had just—


"In spectacular, record-shattering, deeply unholy fashion."


"Shut up," I muttered into the pillow, voice muffled and clearly not intimidating.


"My diagnostic scan detected no structural injuries, but your vocal cords seem to have undergone unusual strain. Need I remind you, your last coherent word before you passed out was his name? Repeated. Three times."


I threw a pillow at the invisible voice in my head.


Because, duh, it's a system. It has no corporeal form.


"Also, your heart rate is still elevated, your spiritual thread is flickering, and your aura is glowing like a post-coital neon sign."


I sat up, only to immediately wince and fall back down, groaning. 


The soreness wasn't terrible. But my pride? Fucking demolished.


A hand shifted on my waist, fingers tightening slightly in sleep. Kael mumbled something under his breath.


My heart flailed inside my chest like a fish out of water.


He remembered my name. He whispered it in his sleep.


I might've died again. Spiritually. Emotionally. Carnally– again.


"You're blushing," the system said with obscene satisfaction.


"Shall I record this for our internal memory vault? Tagging: First Post-Coital Fluster. Virginity.exe has been successfully corrupted."


I rolled over, pulling the blanket up to my neck, and screamed into it.


Because I didn't want to wake the man who just broke me in every way possible and made me want more.


"He held me like I mattered…" I whispered into the dark.


He touched me like I was fragile, even when I shattered under him. He looked at me like I was a secret he'd waited lifetimes to uncover.


Chapter 25 - Chapter 11 – POST-CARNAL… CHAOS