Death wasn't loud.
There was no blinding light, no slow-motion memories, no voice asking him to repent.
It was just… quiet.
One moment, Aarav was standing on the edge of a crowded platform, rain dripping from the rusted roof above, his phone buzzing nonstop in his pocket. The next—
Darkness.
Not sleep. Not unconsciousness.
Absence.
There was no body to feel, no breath to hold. Time didn't pass. Thoughts didn't flow. If hell existed, it would at least have sensation.
This was nothing.
And then—
Pain.
Sharp. Sudden. Violent.
Aarav gasped.
Air tore into his lungs like glass shards. His chest convulsed as if it had forgotten how breathing worked. His eyes snapped open to blinding white lights, and his entire body jerked upward.
A piercing beep—beep—beep echoed around him.
"—HE'S BREATHING!"
"Impossible—his heart stopped six minutes ago!"
Hands pressed against his shoulders, forcing him back down. His vision blurred, shapes swimming in and out of focus. The smell of antiseptic burned his nose.
Hospital.
He knew this place.
That realization came with a wave of dread so intense his fingers curled into the bedsheets.
Why am I here?
A doctor leaned over him, eyes wide, pupils shaking—not with relief, but fear.
"This… this isn't possible," the man muttered. "The death time was confirmed."
Death time?
Aarav's head throbbed. His thoughts felt delayed, as if reality itself was buffering.
He turned his head slightly—and froze.
The digital clock on the wall glowed red.
03:17 AM
His breath hitched.
That was wrong.
Very wrong.
Because he remembered the time.
He remembered looking at his phone before everything went dark.
03:11 AM
Six minutes.
His heart slammed violently against his ribs.
"That's not possible…" the nurse whispered. "The monitors flatlined."
Another beep echoed—then suddenly, the machines around him began glitching.
The heart-rate monitor flickered.
Numbers scrambled.
The screen flashed static for half a second before stabilizing again.
The room fell silent.
No one spoke.
No one moved.
An oppressive discomfort crept into the air, thick and suffocating. The doctors exchanged uneasy glances, their professional composure cracking.
Aarav noticed something else.
Their eyes.
They weren't looking at him like a patient who had survived.
They were looking at him like something that shouldn't be here.
A chill crawled up his spine.
"Run another scan," one of them said finally, voice strained. "Full diagnostic. Now."
As they stepped back, Aarav swallowed hard and tried to sit up again.
That's when it happened.
The moment his back lifted from the bed, a sudden pressure slammed down on his chest—as if invisible hands were forcing him back.
Not physical.
Something deeper.
The lights above flickered violently.
The air vibrated.
And then—
A sound echoed directly inside his skull.
Not a voice.
A statement.
[ERROR DETECTED]
Aarav's pupils shrank.
"What…?" His lips moved, but no sound came out.
[FIXED DEATH POINT VIOLATED]
[SUBJECT STATUS: ANOMALY]
The room blurred again.
This wasn't a hallucination.
It was too clear.
Too precise.
[CAUSALITY RECONCILIATION IN PROGRESS… FAILED]
A cold dread seeped into his bones.
"What is this…?" he whispered.
The doctors were still talking, still moving—but their voices felt distant, muffled, as if reality itself had shifted layers.
[UNNATURAL CONTINUATION OF EXISTENCE CONFIRMED]
The pressure intensified.
Aarav felt it then.
Something invisible brushing against him.
Examining him.
Judging him.
[CAUSALITY DEBT INITIALIZED]
His heart skipped a beat.
Debt?
[EXISTENCE STABILITY: 87%]
[IDENTITY INTEGRITY: UNSTABLE]
[INTEREST RATE: ACTIVE]
"What happens if it reaches zero?" Aarav asked instinctively.
The response came instantly.
[ERASURE]
The word hit harder than death itself.
Not dying.
Not rebirth.
Erasure.
As if he had never existed.
The monitors around him suddenly spiked.
The heart-rate monitor screamed.
Doctors rushed forward again.
"He's crashing!"
"No—his vitals are fluctuating unnaturally!"
Aarav clenched his fists.
Fear threatened to swallow him whole—but beneath it, something else stirred.
Anger.
He remembered now.
The platform.
The decision.
The split-second choice that wasn't supposed to end like that.
I didn't deserve this, he thought.
The pressure eased slightly.
The system—whatever it was—paused.
[QUERY DETECTED]
[SUBJECT EMOTIONAL RESPONSE: RESISTANCE]
Aarav stared at the ceiling, teeth clenched.
"If existence is conditional," he said hoarsely, "then tell me the terms."
For the first time—
The system hesitated.
[TERMS WILL BE GENERATED THROUGH ACTION]
The lights stabilized.
The machines stopped glitching.
Doctors exhaled in shaky relief, unaware of the truth hovering inches above their reality.
Aarav lay back against the bed, heart pounding.
He was alive.
But life, he realized—
Was no longer free.
[WELCOME, ANOMALY.]
[YOU MAY CONTINUE—FOR NOW.]
END OF CHAPTER 1