The sound of the alarm clock sliced through the silence of the small apartment like a sharp blade. Yuuto Nakamura, 26 years old, sat at the edge of his bed with the expression of someone who had already lost the day. He scratched his head, picked up his phone — no notifications, except for system updates and promotional emails. The kettle whistled as he mechanically stirred butter onto his toast. Same brand, same taste, same boredom.
It was a gray, lonely existence — the kind no one really noticed.
But Yuuto endured it. Not out of strength, but out of habit. After his parents died, he shut himself off. An only child. No siblings, no inheritance, no one waiting for him at home. His world revolved around work and games.Especially games.
On-screen, he stopped being a regular salaryman and became a DMMO-RPG addict.But forget overpowered mages, invincible tanks, or ninja-wannabe archers. He liked throwing punches.
— "Fighter. Monk. Brawler. Striker. Doesn't matter the name. It's the perfect class for me.You know that feeling when your character's fist lands right on a boss's jaw, watching their HP bar crash down — all pure reflex and raw strength? That, my dude, is art.While the little mages are back there doing hand signs and tossing sparkly balls… I'm on the front lines, in the chaos, spinning, punching, grabbing, jumping.I didn't pick this class because it's strong — hell, in most games it isn't. I picked it because it's alive. It's sweat, it's timing, it's raw damage numbers to the face and adrenaline in your chest. And honestly? If an RPG doesn't offer this class, I'm not even booting up the login screen. Waste of precious time."
Yuuto was proud of that.
Stubborn, and well aware — but there was passion in that stubbornness.
And despite not being very sociable, he had Ishiguro Kenta — a co-worker who shared that passion, though he was a die-hard "mage lover." When they discovered they both played Black Desert, they'd been inseparable — in-game and in real life.
They worked at a logistics company, though in practice it felt like an administrative warzone. Cramped cubicles, workers losing it over spreadsheets, and an air conditioner that alternated between Arctic frostbite and desert heat.
It was a Monday morning, and the office looked like a battlefield disguised as a corporate environment. Broken printers, exploding deadlines, and supervisors with mood swings worse than traffic lights.
Yuuto was at his desk, typing reports with monk-like focus, until the deep voice of his boss thundered from down the corridor:
"NAKAMURA! GET OVER HERE!"
He flinched and stood like a man going to the gallows. Upon entering the room, he found himself face to face with a young woman with brown hair tied in a ponytail and a timid expression.
"This is the new hire. Fujimori Haruka, right?" the supervisor announced, dropping a pile of forms into the girl's arms. "Nakamura, she's with you. Teach her the basics — and don't let her get lost. Again."
"Understood..." Yuuto muttered.
He almost replied, "Why me?" but had no choice. He led her to his cubicle, glancing back at the newcomer.
Fujimori Haruka. Young, maybe twenty-two or twenty-three. Her glasses were slightly crooked, her hair in a ponytail, and her expression that of barely concealed panic — as if she'd been parachuted into a minefield office.
"Nice to meet you... N-Nakamura-senpai!" she said, bowing so deeply she nearly tipped forward.
Yuuto blinked.
"Hm. You want tea or coffee?"
"Uh...? I-I think… tea..."
"Yeah, no chance. We only have coffee that tastes like truck oil. If your stomach's weak, bring your own."
The girl blinked, confused. Yuuto jerked his chin toward the chair beside him.
"Sit. I'll show you the system."
At first, the silence between them was heavy. Haruka tried not to mess up, and Yuuto... just didn't want to explain everything twice.In the first hour, she nearly deleted a spreadsheet. In the second, she sent an email to the wrong recipient. In the third… she whimpered softly, unable to grasp the internal system.
"It's okay, calm down," Yuuto said, trying not to sound harsh. "Everyone screws up. This place is hell anyway."
"N-no… It's just that I… I'm so useless…" she murmured, gripping her sleeves.
Before he could respond, Kenta appeared with a smug smile and a coffee in hand.
"So, how's our tutorial guide doing? Teaching her right, sensei?"
Yuuto sighed. Haruka blushed.
"She's trying. That's more than I can say for a lot of people here," Yuuto replied dryly, but honestly.
"Whoa, look at that... Nakamura defending someone? That's new! I bet you two will be going out soon." Kenta teased, winking at Haruka, who turned red as a tomato.
"P-Please don't say that… he's just being kind…" Haruka stammered, flustered.
Yuuto groaned, not even turning his face.
"Go away, Kenta. Go play mage somewhere else."
"Ooooh, someone's grumpy! Stayed up late grinding again?" Kenta prodded with a cheeky grin.
"Yeah, I did. Because unlike you, I'm optimizing a solo build to beat world bosses — not letting the game auto-loot like some glass-cannon spellcaster."
"Wait… you guys game?" Haruka asked, after hearing them talk about farming and builds.
"Black Desert," Yuuto replied, his eyes lighting up a bit. "I'm a Striker. Max level. No magic, no swords. Just fists."
"He refuses to play any game where punching someone in the face isn't an option," Kenta laughed.
"And that's why it's the best class. Seriously! None of that flashy magic with long cooldowns, swords or long swords or bows... It's pure combos, speed, brute force. You're in control most of the time — no excuses. If you mess up, you get wrecked. If you land a combo? The world just... makes sense, you know?"
Haruka's eyes widened, surprised by his passion. It was the first time she saw him genuinely smile.
"W-Well... I remember playing a few DEMO-Rpgs..."
"DMMO-RPGs," Yuuto quickly corrected.
"Y-Yes! But… isn't that class… kinda weak?"
Yuuto's eyes widened like she'd just committed sacrilege.
"Weakness is a matter of build! People only care about meta… they ignore anything that isn't big numbers. But the real challenge is taking the forgotten class and making it shine. That's where the fun is!"
Kenta snickered in the background.
"Says the guy who keeps dying in PvP..."
"Because I get jumped three-on-one!"
Haruka smiled.
For the first time since she arrived, she felt part of something. Small, maybe… but genuine.
That simple interaction was the start of a little trio. Haruka spent her days with Yuuto, learning how the company worked, while Kenta popped in with bad jokes, overly sweet coffee, and exaggerated game stories.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ♦♦♦
On Saturday, after another hellish half-shift, the three parted ways at the company exit.
"Where you headed, Nakamura?" Kenta asked, stretching his arms.
"The mall. Gonna check if they still have that Iron Puncher Limited Edition I saw last week."
"Iron Puncher again? Dude, toys?" Kenta teased. "I'm going to buy culture. The new volume of Overlord."
"Culture? A light novel? Please, Kenta. Even doujinshi have more depth sometimes."
"Blasphemy! You'll be cursed by Ainz Ooal Gown for that!"
Haruka giggled quietly at the exchange of jabs.
"You two are so funny," she said, gripping her bag straps.
"Funny? We're a lost cause," Kenta replied dramatically. "Two broke adults — one addicted to punching, the other to necromancers… all we need is you to be a BL fan to complete the trio."
Haruka blushed and giggled, waving a shy goodbye.
"Wait, she doesn't actually like BL, right…?"
"Now you'll wonder for the rest of your life."
Yuuto and Kenta headed to the mall, still laughing at each other, still teasing about literature tastes and figure obsessions.
They walked side by side through the packed levels of the big shopping center — that concrete-and-glass fortress housing dozens of stores stacked one atop another.Escalators, crowds, the smell of fast food and the buzz of voices — all blended into the background of a mundane afternoon.
After securing their purchases — Yuuto's figure and Kenta's book — they walked together until, in the middle of the crowd, Kenta spotted a familiar face.
"Hey, isn't that Haruka-chan? Wasn't she supposed to be on the train by now?"
Yuuto looked in the same direction and confirmed it. There she was, standing near the central fountain of the mall, clutching the strap of her bag so tightly her fingers were white. Her expression was pale, her body trembling.
"Haruka-chan?" Yuuto approached cautiously. "Are you okay?"
She looked at him as if she were seeing a ghost.
"H-he… he found me…"
"Who?" Kenta asked, surprised. "Are you being followed? Do you need help?"
Before she could answer, a scream echoed from the upper floor. People began running in panic. Yuuto turned and saw a man in a dark hoodie, face hidden under the hood, rushing through the crowd with something shiny in his hand. He shoved anyone who got in his way, leaving a trail of chaos behind.
"What the hell…?" Kenta muttered.
But Yuuto saw it. He saw the metallic glint of the knife. Saw how the man's eyes locked onto Haruka.
"HAAAAARUKAAAAA!!!"
She froze. Fear paralyzed her.
Without thinking, Yuuto moved.
In an instant, he placed himself between Haruka and the man. A second later, he felt the blade pierce his stomach. The sound was dull, wet, strange. The stab had landed directly on his poor liver.
Time seemed to stop.
The man stumbled back, as if only just realizing what he'd done. His hands shook.
And then, he ran.
The knife clattered to the ground.
And Yuuto Nakamura collapsed.
The pain hit like silent thunder. A warm wetness spread under his shirt, soaking his abdomen. The world spun for a moment. The sound of people screaming became a distant buzz, like he was underwater.
He fell to his knees, hands instinctively pressing the wound. Blood. So red… so warm… and yet, everything around him felt so cold.
Kenta was screaming his name, voice choked with panic.
Haruka knelt beside him, her face soaked in tears, hands trembling.
"N-Nakamura-san…!" she sobbed. "No… please don't die!"
Yuuto smiled. A weak, barely-there smile.
"What a mess…" he whispered, gasping. "This was supposed to be just a normal afternoon, right…?"
The cold started in his fingers. Crawled up his legs. The sharp pain was replaced by a heavy emptiness in his gut. He felt like his body was giving up. And maybe… it was.
Thoughts flashed through his mind.
His parents. The day of the funeral.
The empty apartment.
The computer glowing in the dark.
The games. The battles. The cheers of victory.
All that time spent being happy in his own way.
What a waste.
He wanted to laugh. To scream. To curse himself for never doing more. For never loving. For never saying "I love you" to his parents one last time. For never holding a child. For never feeling like he truly… lived.
"Haruka…" he murmured, eyes locking on hers behind the glasses. "This… this wasn't your fault, okay? I chose to get involved… because that's just how I am. A wannabe hero idiot who likes to dream…"
She sobbed harder, body hunched over, her hands weakly but firmly holding his.
"You need… to be stronger than I ever was… Don't keep hiding in a bubble… Don't be weak and fragile like I was… Face the world, even when it wants to crush you, alright?"
She nodded through the tears, and Yuuto turned his head with effort toward Kenta, who was clutching his shirt, shaking uncontrollably.
"Kenta…"
"I'm here, bro… I'm here! Please hang on! The ambulance is almost here!"
Yuuto smiled again. A single tear slipped from the corner of his eye.
"Listen… take care of her for me… she's good… she deserves someone truly good by her side."
His voice was fading.
"And… please… wipe my PC… before anyone finds the folders… you know which ones…"
Kenta let out a wet laugh through his tears.
"You bastard… even dying, that's what you're thinking about?"
"Priorities…" Yuuto whispered.
He raised a trembling hand and grasped his friend's shoulder.
"It was good… meeting you… Ishiguro…"
Kenta held his hand tightly, eyes flooded, trying to absorb every second, as if to etch that moment into his soul.
But Yuuto's vision began to fade. Colors drained, sounds grew distant. The cold now was all he could feel. The pain was gone, as if his body was gently letting go.
He looked one last time at Haruka… her wide eyes, her tear-streaked face, guilt etched onto her like a scar that would never fade. Then at Kenta, still holding his hand like he refused to let go.
Yuuto sighed.
"I'm tired…"
And then… his eyes closed.
Time stopped.
Blood dripped across the cold floor, spreading until it reached Kenta's fallen bag… and inside, the Overlord book, now stained with that silent red.
The crowd kept screaming, but in that moment, everything was already over for Yuuto Nakamura.
Or… at least, that's what everyone thought.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ♦♦♦
Silence. Absolute and cruel.
Death came to Yuuto Nakamura without ceremony, without warning, without glory.
There was no angel, no tunnel of light.
No divine judgment or gentle voice to guide him.
Only… nothingness.
It was like having your eyes closed inside a formless eternity.
And the worst part? He was still thinking.
— So this is it. The afterlife… just a dark, empty room inside your own head.
Thinking was all he had left.
He remembered the knife. The hot pain tearing through his belly.
The blood.
Kenta's screams.
Haruka's tears.
And then… just the void.
— Did I actually save her? Or was it all for nothing?
Kenta... you'll take good care of her, right?
— …and you're not gonna open my secret folder, right?
He laughed.
A soundless laugh, lost in the darkness.
— I should've deleted it. I should have deleted it! I bet Kenta's gonna open it. He's way too curious, that bastard. Ugh, how embarrassing…
That imaginary shame almost outweighed the pain of death.
He thought about the folders with misleading names inside the one labeled "Work."
"Pending Projects," "Backup 04," "Printer Drivers 2012"…
— At least the folder wasn't called 'Hot Furry Girls,' or my soul would've evaporated from shame over my tastes.
Yuuto laughed again, dry and bitter, lost in the absurdity of it all.
"This is boring as hell. No judgment? No light tunnel? Just eternal silence? What a lame afterlife…"
Time didn't pass there. Or maybe it passed too fast to notice.
Yuuto began to doubt his own existence.
Was this purgatory? A punishment?
Or maybe just a weird coma triggered by blood loss?
— There could at least be a tutorial, a patch note… or maybe a stats screen showing everything I did. This place is emptier than a dead server during maintenance.
With every thought, his mind sank deeper.
That's when he felt it.
A warmth. Faint at first, then burning.
As if his body was being heated from the inside out. A sudden fever devouring the edges of the void.
Breath.
Air slammed into his lungs like a sledgehammer, forcing his eyes open in shock.
"AGH!"
He coughed. The air was thick, heavy, as if he hadn't breathed in days.
The ceiling… dirty.
Cracked paint. Mold stains. Hanging wires covered in dust and grease.
Dim light filtering through filthy curtains.
Yuuto pushed himself up from a thin, torn rug.
"Where... where am I...?"
His senses returned little by little. The smell hit him like a punch. A mixture of stale sweat, instant noodles, mold, and… expired energy drink?
He looked around. The room was small. Chaotic. Crushed cans on the floor, plastic wrappers, clothes strewn everywhere. A flickering old laptop screen sat on the coffee table, surrounded by cups and ashtrays.
— This is definitely not heaven…
He tried to stand, but his body wobbled. A wave of nausea hit him. His headache felt like an axe had split his skull.
He stumbled, rushing to find the bathroom, collapsing to his knees before the toilet.
The vomit was dry and acidic. He gasped, trembling, every fiber of his body screaming in pain.
"What the fuck?! Why is my body so... fucked up?!"
His hands were shaking.
And then he saw them.
— These are... my hands?
Thinner. Longer. Weaker.
Slowly, he turned his head… and saw something reflected in the bathroom mirror.
The image of a stranger.
A man with sunken eyes, dark circles, messy hair, scruffy beard, and a pale face. A face he had never seen before.
"Who…?" he murmured, before stumbling back into the sink.
Panic. Confusion. A scream.
"WHAT?! W-WHO IS THIS?!!" he yelled, his voice echoing against the filthy walls.
And then… the pain returned.
Like a tsunami, memories that weren't his flooded in.
An entire life shoved into his mind.
Fragments of experience, emotion, fear, and addiction.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ♦♦♦
A gray office. Dim lighting.
Cramped cubicles filled with piles of paperwork and hunched workers like tired cattle.
The constant clatter of keyboards.
The calendar showed the year: 2125.
The clock: 11:47 PM.
Cheap coffee in plastic cups.
And a screen displaying:
[Mandatory Overtime: Confirmed. Authorized Exit in 3 Hours.]
— …Just three more hours… then I can rest… maybe… sleep on the train…
— Can't mess up. They fire people for calculation errors…
— Shit… I forgot to eat again.
Yuuto Nakamura — or rather, the old Yuuto Nakamura — dragged himself like a living corpse.
Pale, skinny, with deep bags under his eyes and a hollow stare.
A modern-day slave.
Another memory.
The same Yuuto, now at home.
A dark cubicle packed with cardboard boxes, disposable cups, and energy drink cans.
On the laptop screen, a digital graph… euphoric.
Bitcoin: +112%
Current Profit: ¥438,000,000
"HAHAHAHA!" he laughed, tears streaming down his face.
"I DID IT! I'M FREE! YOU BASTARDS! I'M NEVER GOING BACK TO THAT HELL!"
He screamed, danced in the room.
Cried. Drooled. Trembled.
Jumped around, ripping up company papers, throwing his tie in the trash.
Started a video call with his boss.
Left the mic on.
— Go fuck yourself. All of you. I'm never coming back!
The end of slavery. The beginning of madness.
More flashes.
Time passed.
He never left the house again.
The windows were sealed. Lights off.
Locks. Double deadbolts. Masks. Cameras.
— They want to rob me... I'm sure they all want to rob me…
He had a rifle at the door.
Slept with a knife under his pillow.
Ate dry rice and drank bottled water.
Every week, he bought more security software, firewalls, military-grade antivirus.
The money grew. And with it, the paranoia.
Until the Crash came.
One day, he woke up to a notification:
Bitcoin: -0.17%
No big deal.
The next day:
Bitcoin: -3.48%
Then:
-12.87%
And then, three days ago…
CRASH
The screen flickered, the graph plummeting like it was falling into hell.
"NO! NO! NO NO NO!" the man screamed, pulling his hair, spitting at the monitor.
"MY MONEY! DON'T TAKE IT! I DESERVE IT! I… I…!"
99,8% loss.
His body couldn't take it.
A heart worn down by years of stress gave out.
Cardiac collapse.
Alone. On the cold floor. With the kettle hissing in the background.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ♦♦♦
Yuuto was panting, both hands gripping the bathroom sink.
His skin was cold. His breathing, uneven.
"...Crypto-addicted bastard…" he spat the words like poison.
He raised his eyes and saw that face — not his own, but now… it was all he had.
"Reincarnation is real. Or is it transmission? It doesn't matter. Because I ended up in the body of a shut-in lunatic addicted to cryptocurrency..."
Yuuto muttered, still trembling slightly, before splashing cold water on his face.
The touch of water was like an anchor — a physical reminder that… yes. This was real.
He dried his face with an old towel and left the bathroom, trying to breathe deeply, to pull himself together. But every step through the apartment made him feel more suffocated — the floor stuck to his bare feet, the smell was unbearable, and the air felt too thick.
"Easy… easy, Yuuto. First: understand. Then: freak out."
That's when he heard it.
A whistle. Sharp. Coming from the kitchen.
"Good. I could really use some coffee…"
He entered the tiny kitchen, where boiling water hissed in a corner.
Without thinking, he turned off the stove and started making coffee. It was automatic. Maybe a muscle memory inherited from the body's former owner. As he poured the dark liquid into the least filthy mug, his eyes wandered across the grimy walls, the half-broken cabinets, and the window sealed with duct tape.
"This place is a nightmare… doesn't even feel like 2126. Feels like 2020 in the middle of the pandemic."
Mug in hand, Yuuto returned to the living room and dropped onto the sunken couch, staring into the hypnotic glow of the laptop screen.
— He was watching the chart before he died, right?
A cursor blinked on a monitoring graph.Yuuto took a sip of the coffee — and instantly regretted it.
"Ugh… tastes like plastic and dirt," he grimaced. "Still… better than the office machine's."
He was about to set the mug on the coffee table… until he looked at the chart.
And froze.
His mouth fell open.
The graph showed a massive green rectangle stretching almost from one side of the screen to the other.
+7,000%
Current portfolio value: 18.746.091,8874 BTCBalance in USD: $1,124,765,513,244.82
Yuuto dropped the cup, spilling hot coffee all over the filthy carpet.
"The chart… went up...? Wait… is this... real?"
He recalled the memory of the crash, the despair of the previous Yuuto — but what lay before him now was nothing but the truth.
"...The son of a bitch died… one second before a miracle happened…"
The irony was so absurd he didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or run naked through the streets shouting "I'm a billionaire!"
He collapsed backward, eyes wide, staring at the dirty ceiling.
"I reincarnated… into the body of a paranoid crypto addict… in the worst place possible…"
"…and now I'm the richest unemployed man on the planet?"
He started laughing.
A nervous, cynical, broken laugh.
It wasn't happiness. It was desperation in disguise.
Yuuto closed his eyes.
— Alright… Yuuto, you reincarnated into the body of someone who died three days ago. With a monstrous fortune. And a shitty world out there just waiting to swallow you whole.
Yuuto looked at the number once more.
$1,124,765,513,244.82
— …How the hell am I supposed to hide all this? I remember this world's so messed up that it's common for rich people to rob each other…
He chuckled, but the laugh was weak. More of a strained sigh than anything humorous.
"Seriously… what am I gonna do with a trillion dollars? Buy Nintendo? Fund a Greenpeace revival?"
He sank into the couch and rubbed his face with both hands.
Then, a memory from the old Yuuto surfaced.
Amidst all his paranoia, he'd actually done something smart — created dozens of ghost digital accounts, decentralized wallets spread across various anonymous exchanges, with security protocols that would make a Swiss bank jealous.
— At least he was a competent lunatic…
But as Yuuto mentally sifted through plans of transferring, hiding, laundering, or even losing that money without raising red flags… he stopped.
And sat in silence for quite a while.
"The money doesn't matter if I don't even understand the world I'm living in now."
His mind wandered back to the memories of the body's previous owner — the ravaged earth, the poisoned sky, the rotten politics, armed gangs, arcologies reserved for the wealthy while the rest rotted in the outside world.
This wasn't the Japan he remembered. It was a plastic-wrapped dystopia. A nightmare wearing the mask of everyday life.
But all of that was interrupted by Yuuto's stomach, growling like a starving rabid dog.
"…Can you at least eat properly in this world?!" he shouted, clutching his empty belly.
Remembering the old Yuuto's habits, he opened a delivery app — NeoMealZ™ — and tapped the first combo that flashed on screen:
2 Big Macs with extra bacon + a giant Sprite.
He confirmed the order. The total?
¥1,250,000
"One million two hundred and fifty thousand yen for a combo?!" His eyes widened. "I know food's expensive here, but isn't that a bit much?!"
Still, he clicked "Confirm Order" anyway.
"Ah, screw it… I'm a damn trillionaire. If I'm gonna die in this hellhole, let it be from indigestion."
About 15 minutes later, the doorbell blared with a sharp TRIM.
Yuuto already knew the protocol. He grabbed the gas mask the old owner kept hanging near the door and strapped it to his face.
The filter hissed softly. He unlocked the three deadbolts, turned the heavy handle, and opened the door...
...only to be met with a scene straight out of a dystopian movie.
A tall man armed with a plasma rifle, covered head to toe in black tactical armor. His helmet reflected the corridor's faint light. On the side of the armor, a serial number — just numbers. No name. No face.
The delivery man said nothing. He turned around, unlocked the reinforced container on his back like a portable vault, and pulled out a high-security thermal case.
Inside were the two Big Macs, still warm, a nearly half-liter Sprite, and a portion of fries — which actually looked like they came from real potatoes.
The delivery man stared at Yuuto for a moment. The helmet beeped softly — maybe scanning vitals, maybe analyzing his physical state.
Skinny, sweaty, deep eye bags… and the decaying apartment visible through the cracked door.
"…Enjoy your last meal," the delivery man said, before turning and disappearing down the fog-covered corridor.
Yuuto stood frozen for a few seconds, digesting that sentence.
— Last...? Ah… now I get it.
Yes. It was a tragic custom in this broken world.
Desperate, lonely, starving people… who, after deciding to end their lives, would spend everything they had on one final meal.
And he, thin, vacant-eyed, in that stinking apartment… definitely looked like someone standing at the edge.
"…holy shit."
He stepped back in and shut the door firmly.
Then looked at the combo in his hands.
"A gourmet suicide meal… that cost a million yen."
He sat on the couch, took a deep breath, and bit into the burger.
"…Damn, this is actually good," he muttered with a mouth full.
He powered on the laptop and began browsing news sites, trying to get a better grasp of the current reality as he devoured his food.
The headlines were a festival of tragedy, corruption, corporate wars, and societal collapse.
"Neo Kyoto imposes curfew after murder spike in Western Sector.""Eden-Tech Corporation sues former rival over stolen genetic code.""Thousands dead after water purification system failure in Sapporo."
He munched on more fries as he thought.
"Not even with a trillion dollars can I live peacefully here… this world's so broken that being rich just makes you a bigger target."
And then…
Something caught his eye at the corner of the screen. A flashy headline.
"YGGDRASIL, Hideo Kojima's new hit, reaches over 1.3 billion log-ins worldwide in just 3 days!"
Yuuto froze, the Sprite cup halfway to his lips.
His eyes locked on the name.
"YGG... DRASIL?"
He murmured the strange name like someone who had just stumbled upon something valuable buried beneath a heap of junk. That headline still shimmered at the top of the news page, as if fate itself were winking at him.
"The hell is this? Some kind of new drug name?"
Curiosity won. He clicked on the headline and was soon redirected to the game's main website — a sleek and fluid site, featuring real-time rendered images of mythical forests, living deserts, and floating castles beneath starlit skies.
— YGGDRASIL —
A DMMO-RPG developed and published by Hideo Kojima.Officially released on July 10th, 2126, exclusively for the NLS-Gear system.Freely explore nine massive worlds with near-total freedom. Create, destroy, conquer, and live — your fantasy awaits.
Yuuto raised his eyebrows.
"A real-time in... game?"
A sudden discomfort pulsed in his head. He reached for the back of his neck, as if something were poking him from the inside.
And then, the memory came. One of those that didn't belong to him, but now clung to him like a cursed inheritance.
The former Yuuto had purchased an extremely expensive piece of equipment called the NLS-Gear. A cutting-edge technological throne that connected directly to the user's neural network through a special plug at the base of the neck — something called a NeuroLink Synapse Interface. The console infused the brain with cerebral nanomachines, allowing full immersion, as if truly living inside that virtual world.
Yuuto touched the back of his neck and felt the cold metal of the plug embedded in his skin.
"This is insane..." he whispered, his voice slightly shaky.
In his past life, this was science fiction. A distant dream. Now it was all flesh, bone... and metal.
— That throne must be in the bedroom. That bastard bought it and never used it 'cause he was afraid of getting his brain hacked...
He got up from the couch and walked toward the room where the old Yuuto had lived in isolation. Upon opening the door, a wave of mold and grime greeted him. The window was covered in aluminum foil, piles of food boxes and dirty clothes scattered in every corner...
But there, in the far corner of the room, like an artifact from another world — was the NLS-Gear.
Black, glossy, with a design that looked like a fusion of military tech and gothic art.
Its wide arms and matte black structure resembled the throne of a tyrant or a king from the abyss. Resting atop the seat was a sleek, imposing black helmet, with a single unlit red LED strip running across its visor.
Yuuto picked it up, studying every inch with a mix of admiration and nervousness. It was heavy — but sophisticated.
"You really blew a fortune on this toy, huh...?"
Staring at the console, Yuuto pulled from the old owner's memories as if flipping through a mental manual. He recalled the activation process and the nanomachine infusion.
Behind the console, he touched a retractable panel, which opened with a click. From it, he pulled a thick cable with a plug tip — hiding a retractable syringe.
"No... no way. I'm supposed to stick this into myself?" Yuuto said, eyes widening. "Why the hell isn't this wireless? Dammit, Kojima…"
He pressed the side button — the syringe extended with a faint hiss.
— Alright... just a plug in the neck. Can't be that painful. Probably.
Taking a deep breath, he positioned the cable at the back of his neck and, with a dose of courage he didn't know he had, inserted the syringe into the neural plug.
A soft metallic click followed, and a gentle warmth spread up his spinal cord.
Yuuto shuddered.
"Urgh... what a nasty feeling."
With the infusion complete, he sat down on the NLS-Gear, still a little hesitant. He adjusted the armrests, sank his back into the throne, and finally placed the helmet over his head.
The console's side lights began to glow blue.
[Initializing NLS-Gear system...][Detecting neuro-nano synapse: Compatibility 98.7%][Beginning cerebral nanomachine diagnostic: 100%]
Yuuto pressed the activation buttons on the armrests.
A smooth, feminine robotic voice echoed through the internal headphones:
"Welcome, Nakamura-sama. I am EVA, your interface assistant on the NLS-Gear. How may I assist you today?"
The way her voice molded itself to the curves of his ear made him shiver. It was strangely comforting.
"I would like to access YGGDRASIL."
The screen before his eyes lit up, forming a floating panel. EVA responded:
"Product located. Game: YGGDRASIL. Available for purchase and immediate download."
The interface displayed the price:
¥72,500,000 (Base version only. Expansions sold separately.)
Yuuto made a bitter expression at the absurdly steep price.
"Damn… At this rate, the one trillion will vanish in an instant..." — he muttered, but didn't hesitate. "Buy it."
"Purchase confirmed. Initiating data download: 5.3 Terabytes."
"What?! FIVE...?!" — Yuuto barely had time to react.
Within seconds, the progress bar shot up like a rocket.
[1TB/5.3TB] — [3TB/5.3TB] — [5.3TB/5.3TB]
"What… already done? What kind of internet is this...?!"
"Verifying data integrity..."
The screen flickered with code and scripts streaming down like digital rain. After a few seconds:
"Verification complete. Would you like to start the game now?"
Yuuto took a deep breath.
"Yes."
At that moment, he felt as if his mind were being gently pulled. Not like fainting, but more like his consciousness being carried into a boundless void.
Everything went dark.
A profound silence.
And then, light.
A starry field. An ocean of constellations.
Yuuto was there, floating among galaxies, like a silent witness to an ancient tale. A powerful voice echoed around him, as if the universe itself were narrating:
"In the beginning, there were nine worlds, connected by the roots of Yggdrasil, the World Tree. In them, harmony reigned between men, monsters, and gods... until the Devourer came to—"
"Yeah, yeah... it's beautiful, but I don't have all day."
Yuuto blinked twice and hit the skip cutscene button.
— Sorry, Kojima. I'll watch it on YouTube later.
A light exploded in front of him, nearly blinding him.
When his eyes adjusted again, he found himself in an absolute white space.
Nothing, except a humanoid figure — no face, no gender, no features at all — just a body white as plaster, waiting to be molded.
The interface appeared with the soft chime of a digital bell.
"Please select your race category:"
▷ Humanoid
● Demi-Human
● Heteromorphic
Yuuto crossed his arms, a small smirk appearing on his lips at the sight.
"Of course I'm going Humanoid… wouldn't be me if I picked anything else."
While many players sought advantages, Yuuto was the kind who embraced challenge. He always picked humans in RPGs — the basic race, often the weakest and with no perks. It was a personal philosophy. Another of his stubborn prides.
He selected Humanoid → Human.
The figure before him began to transform. It gained shape. Height. Mass. A male body, clad in nothing but black boxers.
The interface glowed again:
"Customize your character."
Yuuto rubbed his hands together, eyes gleaming.
"Now this is the fun part."
[2 Hours Later]
Yuuto stretched his arms and sighed, satisfied.
Before him, the result of his creation:
A 1.98-meter-tall man, built like an MMA champion, with medium-length wild black hair, strands falling over part of his face, and intense blue eyes that seemed to pierce through the screen to whoever was reading...
"Handsome as always," — he murmured proudly. "Never disappoint myself."
It was the same look he used in every RPG. His alter ego. His ideal mask.
After confirming the appearance, the next menu appeared:
"Choose your main profession (Base Class)"
He didn't even hesitate. He typed in the search bar:
Striker.
The class appeared with an icon of two crossed fists and a brief description.
"Perfect. No need to overthink. I've always been a fighter at heart."
And finally, the last field:
Avatar Name.
He tried his usual...
❌ Name already taken.
Tried another...
❌ Name already taken.
And again...
❌
"Damn it..." — he growled. "I hate having to come up with new names..."
That's when he remembered. An old name he used in a cursed gacha game.
Ardluc.
Hard + Luck. Literally, Difficult Luck.
He typed it in.
✔ Name available.
"Yeah, you win, damn 5-star loli..." — he muttered, remembering the defeat screen he saw countless times.
With that, he confirmed the name.
The figure of his avatar glowed brightly, dissolving into golden particles that floated toward Yuuto, merging with his body.
Yuuto watched in awe as his body was reshaped into the image of his avatar. When he came to, his skin was firmer, his muscles more defined, and his face — He touched his chin — more masculine.
— Finally got a premium P2W face in this life.
But before he could admire himself further, a golden gate appeared before him. Immense. Majestic. Engraved with ancient runes and carvings of dragons and angels.
Midgard — said an inscription in bold relief.
"The Human Realm... Of course, where else would I go?"
The gate began to open, revealing a warm light that engulfed him.
Yuuto — no, Ardluc — took a step forward.
"Time to punch the world, or get punched."
And with that, he stepped through the portal to the new adventure awaiting him in this new life.