Chapter Text
What a nice memory, you mused internally as you looked at the surroundings. The bustling clean streets, partitioned by trees covered with cherry blossoms. That struck you as a bit weird.
Weren’t you supposed to dream of the memories of your whole life in the last seven minutes before you died?
You brushed it off, taking a step forth, then another. Nobody looked at you, as you navigated the sidewalk, barely glancing at the people as you glided past them like some spectral being, just taking it all in, and your brow furrowed more.
They all looked ordinary metropolitan folks, but not like the ones you had come to know in your routine based life. The teenager who would always sit across you when you took the morning metro, chewing on a bubblegum with airpods in. Or the vendor who you would make a beeline for on the hot summer days for that tangy, bursting batashe, spicy enough to make you pant for water that would taste almost sweet.
Belatedly you realised, these were not the streets you had seen, had come to treat as a backdrop of the exhausting play you would have to participate in with a full mask and costume to pass off as something remotely human. No…it was different. A bit too different. You blinked at that, as you slowly realised that the quality of the infrastructure was enough to have bankrupted your municipality twenty times over.
You heard a whirring sound which made you turn, and you were greeted by the sight of a robotic cleaner, with rapidly spinning wheels of broom bristles as it swept away the non-existent dust, unbothered by pedestrians who narrowly avoided stepping over it.
You stared at it blanky, mindlessly watching it do its job. It looked just a bit too advanced to be cleaning…sidewalks.
“What the hell.” You muttered, finally snapping out of the reverie, as she began to walk away, with not much sense of direction. There was none you knew anyway. These were not the streets or the surroundings that had seen you commute for your bread and butter slave wages from the literal devil itself who thought himself the real life Saul Goodman.
You eyed a small opening alleyway and slipped in, walking through the narrow path, trying to catch your breath.
Sure, you had expected a flashback of your old life before everything went dark forever, how they showed in the movies. Or maybe just lounging in a grassy meadow with flowers.
Instead, you got a simulation of reality just different enough to unsettle you. The alleyway must have been older than those pristine streets you had just gotten away from, as a musky scent hung in the air. It was only then that you looked down and realised that you were actually clutching a briefcase.
Huh, you thought to yourself, a slow blink at the weathered leather and the frayed old thread starting to come out of the stitches, with washed out postmark stickers of landmarks from all over the world.
How did this come here?
You could not carry over anything after you died after all.
You were dead. The flashing light, the deafening honk, the way it had slammed into you with such force and you had found yourself launching in the air before gravity had brutally slammed you back down.
Everything had gone dark then.
But if you were dead, why could you feel the roughness of the asphalt through the sole of your mary janes? The way those skin coloured stockings felt much warmer now that the cold chill of the air had been replaced by a spring warmth. The way the dark skivvy fabric clung to your neck, like someone had rested a hand around it and the way sweat was beginning to gather around the armpits of the jacket.
You shrugged your jacket off, placing it on your arm, still not letting go off that briefcase.
Then you looked up and startled, briefcase slipping from your fingers as it fell to the ground with a thunk and you gaped.
“What on- what even is that?” The sight of a large floating island…no city…. having finally broken through the surreal daze you had been in. And it was full skyscrapers defying their way through the clouds to mingle with the stratosphere. Your heart beat with more enthusiasm than it had in years at that moment.
How was it even possible? Had you been living under a rock this whole damn while Quantum Physics went through a ‘Issac Newton discovering gravity’ level renaissance period and invented something straight out of those sci-fi flicks you would watch when you were a teenager?
Were you really that far behind due to being worked down to the bone and then through the damn marrow?
You regretted not looking at some necromancy spells when you had done that off hand Harvard course on divination (academic ofcourse, totally not to jinx your ex boyfrie ) so that you could actually go back to life and smack your stupid boss for overworking you so hard that you did not even realize that you-
“Skyhaven.” An awkward voice cut through your spiraling thoughts as you flinched at the suddenness of the interruption, peeling away your eyes to look at the bearer of the message.
“Excuse me?”
“Skyhaven.” The man cleared his throat, shifting on his foot though he was clearly awkward. You felt your breath hitch as you got a clearer look on his face. Why did he look so close to that actor who was playing that ghost seeing lawyer in the drama you had glimpsed at when her co-worker was watching it and totally, diligently working on the case-
“The floating city,” the doppelganger of the actor in that kdrama continued, clearly trying to dispel the weight of your lingering silence. “It’s Skyhaven. It’s powered by a protocore and well…” He cleared his throat. “Sorry, all I know about it is what I learned in high school."
You did not even register the absurdness of the whole thing, as it practically breezed over your head, the reply dying in your throat.
“I-...um…” You hesitated, moving a strand of your hair from the side of your face. The brush of your fingers on the skin lingered in a grounded way that seemed to deny the surreal dream you had thought yourself to be in.
“How are you speaking to me?”
Now it was his turn to look weirded out by your words. “Pardon?”
“I mean, this is a dream right?” You said slowly, as if he were slow. “Like, a jumble of my memories before everything turns black?”
“What?” His confusion was palpable as he took a step back to widen the distance, mirroring her startled expression.
“I am dead.” You replied with a tired sigh. “And this is…I don’t know but I should be a ghost by now. Or better yet not. I would hate to be reborn again.”
“I-” He took a deep breath, as if contemplating something before steeling his nerves. “Excuse me for a moment.”
Before you could reply, he had taken a step closer, and reached out to pluck a pale pink petal at the top of your hair, something you hadn’t noticed. The suddenness of the proximity, though not invasive, should have made you pause and to reprimand him but you could not bring yourself to. His lips moved but you did not process the words he said.
“Come again?” She said, barely able to say the words as he stepped back.
“Your feet are touching the ground.” He replied. “And you are not, well pass through like some holographic vision either.” He let out an awkward laugh. “Safe to say, you are not a ghost, madam.”
But that was not possible.
You had died.
You were dead.
So how? HOW?!
You blinked rapidly, the dawning realisation of the situation overpowering the incoming existential crisis as he continued to chatter. “I thought you were an applicant at first but then you have that look first time visitors get to Linkon City, though Bloomshore is not as fancy as the main district.” He chuckled at that.
Your jaw could not have dropped further as he said that. Linkon City? The way the dots were going was not what you wanted. Not at all. Images flashed, much against your will, of you propping up the phone against a coffee mug which had accompanied you through your internship days, with a red eyed pixelated mafia boss peering through the glass wall as he polished his gun with a silk handkerchief.
“Applicant…” You finally mumbled instead, voice faint, looking at the surroundings, before your eye caught the poster plastered against the oxidized utility pole, catching the words “Assistant’ and “Paralegal’ and “Hiring’ before they stopped at the bottom.
Shin I-rang Law Firm
502, 10th floor, Okcheon Building, Sunrise Street, Bloomshore District, Linkon City
Call: XXXX-XXXX-98
The implications of this whole fever dream induced mania you were in sat like dark oil spill upon waters of your consciousness, not yet sunk in fully yet.
“Yes.” Shin I-rang, whom you were now sure as you were about the whole ‘Skyhaven’ hanging above your heads, casting a slanting shadow against the warm light of the setting this whole scene was playing out in, the literal protagonist of the hottest gossip in your office just a few hours ago, shrugged. “I have recently started a firm and I was looking to hire a Paralegal or an Assistant to help me with some fieldwork in the recent case I was assigned recently. But I take it that you are a tourist-”
“I am a Paralegal.” You cut in softly as he paused. “Have been since past five years.”
“Oh really?” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck as he flashed you with a smile trying to be charming but was clearly nervous. “I knew it, my hunches were right. But you-
“I am interested.” You replied as you cut in. “No wait actually. Can I start tomorrow?” You could feel the blandness in your tone returning, the one that your boss had always disliked because you did not wheeze and grunt like some barbarian raised by the wolfs like he did. “I just quit my firm.” The lie slipped out, smoothly blending in with your tone.
After all, you were dead weren’t you? That did count as quitting. Right? Quitting without notice but quitting still.
A shame you couldn’t collect the insurance money, you internally grimaced. Not that it would have been anything substantial but still.
“Ofcourse!” Shin I-rang could not hide his relieved excitement. Made sense, given that as a rookie he would have had a hard time recruiting. He reached into his inner jacket pocket, which you noticed was unevenly buttoned as he fumbled with the case before he managed to open it and hand you a card. Minding your manners, you stepped closer and received it with both hands.
Maybe you were still in denial, you contemplated as you turned the card over, looking over it. Not bad, the design could use some changes but you digress.
Maybe you were still dead and this was some version of purgatory you were subjected to. Or maybe, despite infinitesimal possibilities, you are alive. Just in a different reality.
Quantum suicide was it? You recalled the rants of one of your bestfriend’s once upon a lifetime, no pun intended.
Or Quantum Death?
You knew you had to get out of here. Find something more. Investigate more, till you got splinters from scratching against the very bottom of an empty barrel.
“I apologise for cutting our conversation so short.” You smiled, trying to be sincere but it must have come across as thin and reedy for Shin I-rang looked a touch bit concerned. “But I must be somewhere. I will drop by tomorrow morning at 9:00 if that is alright?”
“Oh you don’t have to worry about that.” He had reached down and picked up your briefcase, holding it out to you. Your hand wrapped around the handle as you took it from him. “Please drop me a message so that I can get your contact information.”
“Ofcourse.” You barely managed, trying not to grimace at how you were on the verge of collapsing at the sheer reality trying to sink in. “I shall see you then.”
With that she was afoot, her pace brisk as much as her flats allowed her to be without giving the impression she was running. You could feel his eyes on your back, probably confused, but you refused to turn around.
You wanted this to be some whack ass dream, or nightmare if you were being realistic but you did not want to take your chances.
Besides you were alive, were you not?
A damn miracle.
A goddamn miracle, you let yourself rest against the wall of some residence, feeling your eyes sting and your throat closing up, that you had not wanted.
Composing yourself, you tilted your head up and pinched the bridge of your nose between your eyes to draw back those traitorous signs of your incoming breakdown. No, you had to focus, you thought bleakly as you looked around and spotted a small cafe with ‘Jiao Cafe’ spelled out in cursive on the Chalkboard easel by the wooden door.
Now that your sleeves were rolled up and a coffee latte with thick foam and drowning in vanilla hazelnut syrupy goodness that had sent you straight into a sugar rush coma (You may or may not have a sweet tooth rivaling Dr Zayne’s) by your side, you stared at your old laptop which as usual, threw a tantrum of flickering pixels and frozen mouse arrows before it calmed down enough for you to access it.
Thus the next two hours had been a blur as you scoured every document, photo, notes in the folders, and threw answers at the internet at a rate which would make a League of Legends player jealous at the speed your fingers flew over the keyboard.
You leaned back, rolling your shoulders as you finally picked up your sun dried tomato, garlic confit infused focaccia piece and took a bite, scanning the small note pad you had jotted your conclusions from your ‘research trip’.
- Deepspace exists. No it is not a hoax. There is documented proof.
- The year is 2048. Should be retired but alas, time traveled or toed, hopped and skipped beyond the multiverse to retain the grand total of 26 years and counting.
- Lemuria discovered and the ruins are gorgeous. Spots for diving exploration open. Must GO.
That previous point had been highlighted with an obnoxious neon pink
- Documented existence.
You paused at that. Befuddling as it was, all your important documents and data existed, from your birthday, (the date altered to match your current age). You found childhood pictures, familiar poses with non familiar backgrounds. Apparently, matching your life circumstances, your parents had immigrated for better job prospects but in this version, it was a city in the north, and considerably far from Linkon City.
You reluctantly thanked the Gacha gods for small mercies. Last thing you wanted was to run into another pixelated character, and to added horror, acting all familiar like you were supposed to know them, made flesh and actually have your heart give out from the shock.
- Resume and CV match to my original ones. Names have discrepancies but the same boss and coworkers.
You had wished that your boss had been transformed to Elle Woods by the fairy godmother of isekai scenarios for this multiverse version but you couldn’t be that lucky.
But one thing stood out.
You had quit. Yesterday in fact. Properly with two weeks notice, not by rudely getting into a fatal accident.
You exhaled at that, as you flicked your eyes to another point.
- Zayne exists. Recently got the Starcatcher award and works in Akso Hospital.
Yes the man was gorgeous, you had triple checked in fact and had debated whether you admired him or envied him, given that you had been all but a grumpy cog in the machine.
You also did yourself a favor by not remembering how you had gasped at Rafayel’s pictures and detracted from your goal by browsing his paintings.
And the fact that you had seen them all in skimpy towels from the last banner
Perish the thought, you scolded yourself harshly, brutally cutting that line of thought. Fucked up as your situation was, these were living breathing men, flawed and human. Not distorted pixels overheating your damn phone.
You finished your bread in sullen silence, with the cafe workers having taken one look at you and left you alone at your corner table, doing nothing more than delivering your drink and bread which you had managed to pay with your online account, surprisingly.
Beginning a new position as the paralegal of a rookie lawyer who saw ghosts? Yes you could do that.
Boy, was Shin I-rang definitely in need of advice and guidance. But tedious as your job had been, your nervous system was its mistress.
But being in an online dating sim barely disguised with amazing battle events? With not one, not two but five…five whole damn Love Interests?
Poor MC, you greatly sympathised with the plight of the girl in the moment.
Half of them were zoo creatures,
or an alien
or the Winter Soldier.
With a sigh, you packed up and left for your apartment, leaving behind a generous tip. Yes, you did have an apartment in the middle class zone sharing the Southeast Suburbs, and as you deduced correctly, when you punched in the code and the door opened, everything was the same, just a little upgraded to not look shabby or out of place in the surrounding environment.
You plopped down on your bed, nuzzling into a fluffy pillow. At the very least your faithful bed and pillows never betrayed you. They were the exact scent as you remembered.
Maybe the thought of not being dead, but being at the mercy of an alternate universe which you never remembered existing in should scare you.
Maybe it did.
But above that, it had given you something back, even more than the temptation of the hot 2D men you would shamelessly date through three different accounts.
A will to live.
“Maybe,” your voice was muffled, cheek squished against the cool cloth of the pillow, turning to face the sky and look at the stars in the moonless night, with air pollution almost non-existent thanks to everything being powered by Protocores, “this is all not so bad. A well fleshed out NPC…I can live with that.”
You closed your eyes then.
After all, you had a new job tomorrow.