The last thing I saw wasn't a white light. It was a cliffhanger.
I was sitting in my corner office on the 40th floor, the city lights of Tokyo bleeding through the glass. My chest tightened—a sharp, sudden vise grip that knocked the wind out of me. My coffee cup shattered on the floor.
Panic flared for a second. Am I dying? Now? I haven't even updated my will.
But as my vision blurred, my eyes drifted to the tablet on my desk. I was scrolling desperately through the final uploaded chapter of I Died 2,000 Years Ago: The Underworld Fears Me.
Ren Wu was standing atop the Nether-Core Tower. The sky had torn open. The "Alliance"—that accursed union of Heaven and Hell—had finally descended. Ren Wu held the Sovereign Ledger open, his ink brush poised to rewrite the laws of reality.
And then, my heart stopped.
The panic vanished, replaced by a singular, frustrating thought as the darkness swallowed me whole.
Damn it. I never found out if he bankrupted them.
"He did, actually."
The voice didn't come from a person. It vibrated through the floorboards of existence, rattling my teeth.
I opened my eyes.
I wasn't in a hospital. I wasn't in hell.
I was standing in a library.
But this wasn't a normal library. The ceiling was a swirling nebula of purple and gold galaxies. The "bookshelves" were towering pillars of obsidian that stretched up into the infinite, each one filled with glowing orbs instead of paper.
"Who said that?" I asked, my voice echoing strangely.
I looked down at myself. I was wearing my bespoke Italian suit, perfectly pressed. No pain. No heart attack. But the air here... it was heavy. It pressed against my skin like deep water.
It was Authority.
I recognized this pressure. It was the same suffocating, dominant aura I felt every time Ren Wu crushed an enemy in the novel. It was the weight of absolute control.
"Down here. Section 42. Fantasy & Economics."
I walked toward the voice, my footsteps making no sound. Sitting at a desk made of starlight was a figure. It didn't have a face—it was a silhouette cut from the fabric of the universe, filled with shifting constellations. It held a pen made of pure lightning.
I stopped. My breath hitched.
"You're him," I whispered, feeling a legitimate shiver run down my spine. "The Author."
The entity—OrionBeast—didn't look up.
"And you are Reader_ID_4821. Or as you call yourself in the mortal world, 'The Shark of Wall Street'."
OrionBeast tapped the desk. "You spent a total of 5,400 Spirit Coins on my novel. You left 12 comments complaining about the update speed, but you unlocked every premium chapter within 30 seconds of release."
"The Alliance," I said, ignoring the small talk to hide my nervousness. "Did he win?"
OrionBeast chuckled. The sound was like tectonic plates grinding together. "Ren Wu always wins. The Alliance thought they were fighting a war. Ren Wu showed them they were merely trespassing on private property. Let's just say... the liquidation process was thorough."
I let out a long breath, my shoulders dropping. "Good. That makes the investment worth it."
"You died, by the way," OrionBeast added casually, flipping a page. "Heart failure. Too much stress. Too much coffee."
"I know." I straightened my tie, a reflex to calm myself. I was a negotiator. I had negotiated mergers between billion-dollar companies. Negotiating with a God shouldn't be much different. "So, what happens now? Heaven? Hell? Reincarnation?"
OrionBeast finally looked up. His eyes were two burning supernovas. I had to squint to look at him.
"Usually, souls go to the processing center. They get scrubbed, wiped, and recycled. Boring efficiency."
He leaned back, the stars in his chest shifting.
"But I have a soft spot for my VIPs. So, I'm offering you a Refund."
"A refund?"
"A new life," OrionBeast said. "A choice of world. And a singular gift to help you survive it."
My mind raced. A choice.
I needed a world where "Power" was unrefined. Where the economy was stupid. Where a man with a brain could dominate children with sticks.
"Harry Potter," I said instantly. "1991."
OrionBeast nodded. "Classic choice. And the Gift?"
"I want the System," I said, my eyes narrowing. "Ren Wu's System. The Ledger of Life and Death."
The library went silent. The constellations inside OrionBeast's body swirled faster. The pressure in the room spiked.
"The Ledger," OrionBeast mused, his voice dropping an octave, "is a Cosmic-Grade Artifact. If I put that in the Harry Potter world, the universe would collapse. Voldemort would be deleted before you even reached Hogwarts."
"Then give me a patch," I countered, leaning forward. "Nerf it. Lock the 'Sovereign Decree.' Lock the 'Instant Death' mechanics. Just give me the core function: The Transaction."
OrionBeast tapped his lightning pen on the desk. Sparks flew.
"A businessman to the end. Fine. I will give you Ledger_Lite_v0.5."
"Lite?"
"It won't kill for you. It won't give you free stats. It will only allow you to enforce Contracts and see Value. You want power? You'll have to earn the currency to buy it."
"Deal," I said, extending my hand.
OrionBeast didn't shake it. He snapped his fingers.
"One more thing. Since you like my 'OrionVerse' so much... I'm making you a Node. If you conquer this world—if you buy the deed to the Wizarding World—I might just let you meet Ren Wu in the next one."
The floor beneath me dissolved into starlight.
"Good luck, User 4821. Don't bore me."