My consciousness drifted back slowly, hazily like waking from a deep sleep.

  Wait... was I asleep?

  No. I was falling.

  The memory struck like a punch to the gut: the snow-covered cliff, the slip, the sheer, gut-wrenching weightlessness,

  And then, impact.

  But there was no pain. No crushing agony. No freezing cold.

  Just... white.

  An endless, infinite sea of white stretched in every direction. No ground. No sky. Just an overwhelming void.

  "Ah, finally awake?"

  The voice was light and cheerful, carrying that calm authority that knows without a doubt, it’s in charge.

  I turned my head and,

  Huh?

  Seated at an ornate, Venetian-style desk was a girl…

  No, a vision straight out of an anime.

  She looked no older than her late teens, her neatly braided blonde hair framing a face sharpened by intelligence. Golden eyes gleamed behind delicate glasses; their brilliance only enhanced by the smirk playing on her lips. Clad casually in a flannel shirt and jeans, she exuded the aura of a bookish, demure girl... with just a hint of mischief lurking beneath.

  Was I in a dating sim? A fantasy RPG?

  The moment I saw her, one thought screamed in my head:

  This is so cliché!

  Well, I guess I died. And now I’m stuck in some kind of isekai pre-registration process.

  "Welcome, Lucas. I’m Merchecna, Goddess of Knowledge," the girl announced, resting her chin on interlaced fingers. "I trust you’re feeling better? Your death was rather traumatic—but at least it was quick."

  Her voice was absurdly casual about the whole "you just died" thing.

  I frowned. "...So, I really died?"

  "Yes." She smiled, far too brightly.

  I mentally facepalmed. One dumb selfie attempt, one misstep, and suddenly I was sliding off a cliff. As if that wasn’t bad enough, my afterlife greeter turned out to be a bespectacled, blonde version of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

  I could already picture my passport photo splashed across national TV, headline screaming:

  "Yet Another Clueless Gaijin Rolls Off Mt. Fuji—Authorities Baffled by Dumb Expression."

  "And this is the afterlife?"

  "Something like that," she said with a nod. "Think of it as a waiting room. Now, why don’t you have a seat? We need to discuss your new job assignment."

  With a flick of her fingers, the world shifted.

  The infinite white dissolved into the warm glow of candlelight. Towering bookshelves rose around us, curving into a grand rotunda library. A plush lounge chair appeared beneath me, catching my fall like an old friend.

  Okay. Yeah. Definitely magic.

  I exhaled, pressing my fingers to my temples. "Job assignment? Whoa... I didn’t even apply for a job."

  "Well, I needed an emissary," Merchecna said smoothly, settling into the couch across the coffee table from me. "And you’re the perfect candidate."

  I narrowed my eyes. "I’m flattered that you hold such a high opinion of me, but I’d really like to be on my way now, thank you."

  Merchecna laughed, shaking her head. "You’re still thinking you’ve got a choice. I’d better pop that bubble early. You’re not going back to Earth."

  I leaned in, a smirk of disbelief forming. "...Excuse me? Is that a threat?"

  "No, this isn’t a threat," she replied, as she sipped on a cup of tea that magically appeared in her hands. "Just that everything’s been decided the moment I negotiated your transfer with the divinity of your world stream. They have a strict no-returns policy. You can’t go back."

  I slapped my hands against my thighs, gawking in exasperation. "You’re engaging in human trafficking—a crime against humanity!"

  "Oh, but gods enjoy divine transcendence!" Merchecna grinned, clearly enjoying my indignation. "We’re above the laws of men."

  "I want out."

  "You have the right to reject," she said cheerfully, "but divine law requires I humanely dispose of you."

  How delightful. Just like a pirate: join us or walk the plank!

  “It’s not a threat,” she said. Yeah, right. “OK to reject”? Absolute bullshit. I’ve never been into religion, and this whole experience just confirmed it. And to think—the divinity of my world had been complicit!

  This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

  “Evil…” I muttered.

  "Oh, come on. I know you to be a pragmatist," she said with a breezy smile, materialising a cup of tea for me. "Just make the best of the situation. I’ll be compensating you with magic and divine favour, so it can’t be that bad."

  I leaned back in resignation, running a hand through my hair. “Alright. What do you want?”

  Shrug.

  "Save my world?"

  Facepalm. Help. The cliché. It hurts.

  I inhaled deeply through my fingers, trying to process the absurdity.

  "That used to be the job of my saint-to-be," Merchecna added, far too casually. "But she jumped headfirst into the clutches of the God of Madness. She’s a goner."

  "Hold on. You’re reincarnating me, right? I don’t want to go through childhood again. It plain sucks."

  "Ah, good news then! No reincarnation—just possession."

  I froze.

  "...Possession?"

  "Assume the dying body of the girl meant to be my saint."

  I blinked. "...girl?"

  No. Nope. Absolutely not.

  "No-no-no-no-no, time-out! I can’t do this gender-swap nonsense!"

  I leapt to my feet, practically tripping over the lounge chair as I waved my arms like a man swatting bees. "I can’t deal with the stuff girls go through—dressing up, social dynamics, hair maintenance—I can barely function as a guy!"

  Merchecna just sipped her tea, annoyingly calm.

  "I’ve never even been able to talk to girls properly!" I ranted. "And now you want me to be one? That’s Ranma-level psychological trauma!"

  "You're being dramatic," she replied dismissively, entirely unfazed. "It's not that bad."

  "I can't even imagine myself as a girl! I wouldn't know how to sit, or walk, or exist without becoming an awkward mess!"

  "Then consider this character development," she said brightly. "The poor thing just vacated the premises a moment ago when I checked. If you don’t take over soon, her body is going to start rotting."

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. "This whole thing sounds like a setup."

  Merchecna grinned.

  "Smart boy."

  "Can’t you at least pretend to deny it?" I groaned.

  She stood and flicked her wrist. The library faded away and was replaced by a dimly lit bedroom. A young girl lay there, barely breathing. Her grieving parents huddled around her, while her little sister bawled beside them. A shaman whispered prayers that were clearly going unanswered.

  I exhaled. "...Well. That’s depressing."

  "Time is not on our side," Merchecna said, stretching lazily. "Further explanations will have to wait. You can still contact me, so don’t worry."

  "Oh, fantastic," I muttered. "One of those ‘Quit reading the fine print and just sign already’ deals. At least there’s a customer support hotline. Wait, you did outsource that, didn’t you?"

  Merchecna snickered, reached forward, and flicked my forehead.

  Hard.

  "Ow. What the—"

  Before I could protest, the world swallowed me whole and dragged me downward at breakneck speed.

  "That sassy girl—"

  "Hey, I heard that." Her voice echoed into the void. "Piss me off, and I’ll show you that hell is very real. Now go save your new body. Ciao."

  And just like that, I was gone.

  Second life, here we go.

  Try as I might to respond to Merchecna’s taunt, my consciousness fractured like thin ice cracking on a thawing lake.

  The sickly body below pulled me in. Feverish, fragile, barely clinging to life. Tendrils of pain wrapped around me, each one more vivid than the last.

  I heard voices, muffled and distant, like my head was packed with cotton.

  "Her fever… still hasn’t broken…"

  "This treatment is our final hope… can’t promise anything… prepare for the worst," the old shaman muttered.

  The pungent scent of crushed leaves invaded my nostrils. Medicine burned its way into my lungs.

  So, this is it. My first taste of this new reality.

  My thoughts swam in fog. The fever felt endless, with ice and fire warring inside me and stealing my sense of time and place.

  I was sinking.

  Drifting deeper and deeper—

  Until I heard a voice.

  A whisper.

  "...let me perish not... live on I must..."

  A feeble cry, lost in the darkness.

  My mind struggled to focus. "Who are you? Where are you?"

  "...save me... not fade away... I beseech... help..."

  The voice was softer now, but desperate.

  I strained to see, and though I knew my eyes were closed, something flickered in the void.

  A figure.

  A young girl drifted in the vast darkness, caught in an invisible current.

  My breath hitched.

  She looked exactly like me—the body I had taken over.

  The original soul.

  Her pleading eyes locked onto mine.

  "I cannot perish now," she pleaded, reaching out with trembling hands. "My sister is weighed down by guilt… she believes my death to be her doing. I cannot leave her with such sorrow."

  Her small, trembling hand stretched toward me.

  Without thinking, my own hand—no, my spirit—extended to meet hers.

  The moment our hands touched, I felt it.

  A strong pull.

  She was trapped—ensnared in an unseen tide, dragging her into the abyss.

  Her voice grew clearer now, desperation lacing every word.

  “Allow me to return—I beg you. There is no cost, no burden that I would not bear.”

  My mind raced.

  This was the original owner of the body.

  The girl who was supposed to die.

  The girl whose body I had been meant to take over.

  Merchecna lied to me.

  She told me this girl was gone—that she had surrendered to death, that her fate was sealed.

  And yet, here she was.

  Still fighting. Still clinging to life.

  I clenched my jaw.

  "That lousy goddess told me you were already dead," I muttered.

  She couldn’t believe what she was hearing “The goddess sent you? No… this must be a mistake. I’m not dead. I can’t be…”

  “She sent me on a mission and I was to take over your body.”

  In her eyes, I could see the pain of betrayal tear at her, as she muttered to herself, “Was I unworthy of salvation? I asked only to live… I…”

  “We can’t both be in here can we?” I reasoned, but I caught myself looking away from her gaze in guilt. I knew I was convincing her to embrace her own death.

  "Even if it be the will of the Goddess that I perish," she whispered in a trembling voice. "Still… I beg you, let me remain a little longer. I cannot leave my sister burdened by guilt forever."

  I hesitated.

  What the hell was I supposed to do?

  Merchecna chose me to replace her.

  If I let her back in, where does that leave me?

  My mission to save this world?

  My new life?

  Logic told me to push her away.

  To let her drift into the abyss. To let fate take its course.

  But, I looked into her eyes. Wide. Pleading.

  Desperate to live.

  …I couldn't.

  I just couldn't let go.

  “But Merchecna…”

  “I know… in sinful defiance of my goddess do I stand.” She cut me off, eyes closed in quiet resignation.

  I was stunned by her admission, “Then why?”

  “I would my soul be cast into Dubnos,” she breathed, voice quiet but unshaken. “If only to embrace my dear Ennie just once… and tell her, with all my heart, that she bears no blame.”

  My heart ached for her.

  To love someone that deeply—to defy heaven and embrace damnation to grant that someone forgiveness…

  I envied her.

  "Damn it," I muttered.

  The current suddenly weakened the moment I made my decision.

  "Now, listen," I warned, gripping her hand tightly. "You are already dead. If you come back, we’ll have to share this body. It doesn’t matter that it was originally yours—it belongs to both of us now."

  She nodded immediately.

  "I don’t care," she said. "I’ll do anything… just let me live."

  "...Fine."

  I pulled with all my might—

  And as our souls merged, a whisper echoed through my fading consciousness.

  "Thank you."

  Somewhere in the heavens, a certain goddess felt a vein throb in frustration.

  "A fine mess you've made of my arrangements now!" Merchecna groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose.

  "And to think—it's barely been an hour since you arrived!"

  With an exasperated sigh, she sank into her velvet lounge chair and took a deliberate sip of her tea.

  "Softie," she muttered under her breath.