Prolouge — The World That Killed Me

Rain poured heavily over the rooftops of Tokyo, drumming against the windows of the 21st-floor office where Ayaka Ishikawa worked.

Outside, neon lights flickered faintly, casting pale hues on her tired face. The computer screen in front of her still glowed, displaying the same spreadsheet it had shown three hours ago.

“Um… Ayaka-san, sorry, could you revise this tender document too?”

The voice from the next cubicle pierced her ears like a needle. Ayaka didn’t even turn—she simply nodded. Her hands began to move automatically, like they had a mind of their own. But her thoughts were already somewhere else—nowhere, really.

She had become a machine—programmed only to work.

She couldn’t remember the last time she had dinner with her family. She wasn’t even sure if her mother still kept that old photo of her as a child in the living room. For Ayaka, life had become a loop of endless tasks with no reward at the end.

She took a deep breath, fighting the drowsiness creeping into her bones. Her eyes stung, and her back ached after over ten hours of sitting. But even so, she knew one thing—if she stopped now, she’d lose her year-end bonus. And without it, there was no way she’d make next month’s rent.

“You know, Ayaka? Sometimes I’m kinda jealous of you. You’re so strong,”

Yui, her coworker, had said during a break not too long ago.

Ayaka had only managed a faint smile.

A fake smile. One that had long lost its meaning.

Strong? No. She just didn’t have a choice.

Her phone buzzed. A message from her mother.

Ayaka, are you coming home this weekend? Your father’s been asking about you…

She tapped the screen and stared at the message, but didn’t reply.

She hadn’t been home in ages. Home had become nothing more than a mirror reflecting her failures—an echo chamber of all the things she hadn’t become.

As the night wore on, the floor grew quieter. The sound of printers and the ticking of a distant wall clock were the only things that kept her company now.

The lights in the office began to shut off one by one.

A small signal that the day was changing, though her life remained exactly the same.

“If I died today… I don’t think the world would even notice,”

Ayaka whispered to herself.

It wasn’t a joke. It wasn’t a cry for help.

She truly believed that.

What meaning did life hold if every day was just another repetition of pain and fatigue?

And then... it happened.

The day where everything finally stopped.

Ayaka had chosen the stairs—again. The elevator had been out of order for weeks, and she was too tired to wait.

Her legs dragged. Her mind was blank. Her soul was long gone.

She didn’t even see the small puddle of rainwater waiting at the landing below.

One step.

Her foot slipped.

For a brief second, her body floated midair—weightless. Thoughtless. Timeless.

Then gravity pulled her back with cruel precision.

The world spun.

Darkness surged.

And just before everything went black—

She heard something.

Not a human voice. Not divine.

It was... ancient. Like a whisper from somewhere beyond time itself.

A distant echo... calling her.

"Do you wish to live with choice? Then open your eyes, wanderer."

Then—silence.

There was no pain. No weight. No sorrow.

For the first time in her life, Ayaka felt... free.

But the freedom didn’t last.

Something began to tug at her—pulling her away from that void.

She was being guided. Or perhaps, pushed. It was hard to tell.

All she knew was that she was falling again.

But this time, toward something else.

Something unknown.

Toward a world that did not belong to her.

A world... that was about to become hers.