Michael's soul kept drifting. And drifting. And drifting some more. At some point, even Michael stopped questioning how long it had been, because time clearly wasn't filling out attendance anymore. Eventually, his soul came to rest near a space drenched in deep violet hues, a place that felt suspiciously luxurious for something beyond death. The air carried the fragrance of gardens, orchids, and blooming life, the kind of smell that made one question whether heaven had a marketing department. Soft movements passed through the space, like dancing fairies who seemed far too relaxed for a divine realm. Despite the beauty, the atmosphere carried a distinct decorum of extreme depravity, as if elegance and indulgence had signed a long-term partnership agreement.
At the center of this mystical purple garden stood a massive double king-size bed, placed boldly as if subtlety had never existed here. Pink curtains surrounded it, flowing gently in a way that suggested they were fully aware of their dramatic responsibility. Upon the bed lay a feminine figure, draped in silver-colored sheets, radiating an aura that made explanations feel unnecessary. She was clearly a goddess—and not the quiet, judgmental kind. More specifically, she was the goddess of sex, fertility, carnal sins, and depravity, a résumé that left very little room for misunderstanding.
Michael's soul found itself standing at the entrance of this strange garden, hesitating like someone who had arrived uninvited but suspected they were expected anyway. From a respectful distance, he noticed that the goddess was not alone. Several figures lay beside her, their presence deliberately vague, as if reality itself had decided that details were unnecessary. Before Michael could question whether he should knock, a smooth voice echoed through the garden.
"Welcome, my child. I am Amara Velmora. You may simply refer to me as the Supreme Goddess of sin, fertility, and depravity."
Michael paused. Of all the possibilities he had imagined after death, this was not high on the list. Still, instinct told him this was not the moment to panic. This was the moment to negotiate. Internally straightening himself, Michael thanked the goddess politely for her welcome, choosing his words carefully, like someone who knew this conversation could redefine his entire existence.
Amara explained calmly that she had granted Michael transmigration into a new world created by her own will, a realm known as Sinflare Augustiland. She declared that she had chosen him as her holy child, which sounded impressive until she immediately clarified that there was no such thing as a free lunch—not even after death. Every blessing came with expectations, and Michael's expression confirmed that he had suspected as much.
Fully aware of his historically terrible luck, Michael asked what exactly she wanted from him.
Amused, the goddess explained that Sinflare Augustiland was a world ruled by lust, fertility, and sex. These forces shaped daily life, culture, and coexistence among its many species. Even demons lived peacefully there, which she mentioned casually, as if that alone wasn't concerning. However, the world suffered from a critical imbalance. Although men were sexually active, birth rates remained unusually low. The ratio of men to women stood at ten to a thousand, and society functioned under a confusing blend of patriarchy and matriarchy that somehow satisfied no one completely.
Michael's mission was then revealed. His objective was to both give and receive carnal pleasure and, through his own actions, increase the world's population by forty percent. He would be allowed to procreate freely, without restrictions on partner or race, and without strict time pressure—though completing the task within a thousand years would be considered "ideal," a word that sounded far more relaxed than it actually was.
Michael thought about it. If he could finally live a stable life, maybe this absurd responsibility was worth the risk—assuming, of course, that his luck didn't suddenly remember him again. After a brief internal debate, he agreed.
Amara nodded, seemingly satisfied, and added that such responsibility required proper compensation. She would grant Michael power along with a system designed to assist his growth and help him recover from the emotional neglect and trauma of his previous life. In this new world, people would love him easily and fall for him readily. She would bestow immortality upon him and power second only to her own, a statement delivered so casually it felt like she was offering upgraded storage space.
She asked one final time whether he accepted.
Michael answered honestly that he would try, though he wasn't entirely sure he was competent enough for the task.
The goddess smiled, clearly unbothered by his uncertainty. She told him to believe in himself and invited him closer, stating that with her blessing, he would be reborn as Lucifer, in Lustbound Heaven, a kingdom within Sinflare Augustiland.
And just like that—without paperwork, countdowns, or opportunity for regret—the process of transmigration began.