Chapter 1 | And Thus, Another World

Theo scrolled down with a frown and read the next part. He knew where the story was going.

[Even still, Natsuki sheathed his sword. If he had killed Klaus, he would have become the same kind of person as him.]

A headache was well on its way.

Again? Come on, man! This guy tried to raze the entire city and killed almost half a million people! His index finger furiously rolled the scroll wheel a couple of times. Up and down. What conscience? This fucker is a safety hazard simply by existing! He scratched the side of his mouth. How many times was this again? There is no need to recycle the same villain this much.

He sat cross-legged on his gaming chair, gritting his teeth. Were these people somehow mentally unwell? I swear the entire novel would have been 10 chapters if I were the main character.

He got up with a sigh and stepped around the energy drink cans littering the floor. It was past due time for cleaning. It had been so for a couple of weeks. He had promised his therapist he would use that mental technique or whatever to motivate himself. But the mental fog made it too hard. It was a funny vicious cycle, really. Though he wanted to get better, his days blurred without him really achieving anything.

Grabbing another energy drink, Theo stared it up and down. He read the nutritional values on the back of the can as if it mattered. How could something that sweet be zero calories? He took a sip and savored the acidic taste. He couldn’t feel that rush of caffeine anymore, but he sure wanted to. Maybe it was time to move on and start taking pre-workouts for the kicks like the other room-dwellers over on the internet. I bet none of them even work out…

Shaking his head to shoo the stray thoughts away, Theo sat back down. The light of his computer screens illuminated his ghastly face in the dark, letting him see his reflection on his phone screen. His short, brown, unkempt hair rested against the sickly white skin. At least he ate well, so he didn’t look like an absolute degenerate. He was at most like, two-thirds of the way there.

As he read the lines once again, Theo noticed himself getting uneasy. It was as if his throat was clogging up, the muscles on his legs straining and causing him to get jumpy. He had to let the tension go somehow. And what better way was there than to pour all his hate on the comments?

He wrote. Maybe for a minute, maybe for two. Every other sentence was rewritten so his account wouldn’t get banned.

Then, whatever he wrote, he deleted it all. It was a bit too negative, even for his taste. If his father had been there, he would have given him that look. And his therapist, too. That man was too kind for Theo to upset. It was his job, yes, but Theo doubted every therapist could be that genuine. Not to mention, the age of 25 felt slightly too old to pick up the mantle of an internet hater.

Thinking of all that, Theo felt the urge. It was elusive, only coming along once in a while. The want to leave the house. A small jog on his treadmill would have sufficed normally. But not now. Nothing was wrong with a little walk, so why not?

He picked up his keys, put on some proper human clothes, and scaled down the stairs of the building. Then the “why not” slammed against his face.

The big city wasn’t easy to stomach for everyone. He had a little apartment in New York left to him by his parents and couldn’t be bothered moving. The living costs were high, sure, but he barely spent money anyway. It was surprising how frugally you could live if you never went out.

And he might have had a couple million inherited. But that was unrelated.

Spending the last six years at home has its benefits too, huh?

Still, he couldn’t help but occasionally despair. The suffocating, almost toxic air burned his lungs. Too many moving parts, too many people. It made him feel like he didn’t matter at all. He wasn’t even a side character.

Hell, he was pretty sure there was no one left who remembered his name other than the therapist and the kind old lady at the reception desk who tended to call him “Luv” with that thick accent of hers.

Hmm… Am I already dead? Theo chuckled and shook his head.

He dreamt of the countryside every now and then. Maybe fewer people would be better, he thought. A bone-chilling breeze washed over him. He was utterly unprepared for such weather.

Fuck me… Should I go back? he thought while rubbing his hands together. The freezing cold December wind was hard to face, reminding him of the day his life changed forever. Every car that whizzed past would make him flinch. Every family he saw walking too close to the road made him dizzy. He shivered in place and remembered the warmth of his bed. The memories of his long-gone family weren’t there, buried under a mountain of distractions he had built throughout the years after the incident. He went back and forth, unsure of his destination.

Standing awkwardly in the middle of the street, Theo put his hands back into his pockets and steeled his resolve. He lowered his head and decided to keep walking forward. All in all, he was somewhat proud of leaving the house. A little progress was better than nothing.

As he walked, however, a shriek pierced the crowd. Theo raised his head to look around. His brows rose into a frown as he saw people hurriedly parting to both sides of the sidewalk. In front of him was revealed a man, holding a knife in one hand and the handbag of an elderly woman in the other, running in his direction.

Theo froze. His brain short-circuited.

It was a comical sight. Right out of a theatrical play. With the way people quickly reacted, he was the only person left in the middle, in the mugger’s way, under the spotlights.

He ordered his body to move, but he saw the looks people gave him. Now, he was on the stage. His time to shine.

Under that pressure, the stage fright struck. His fingers jittered. His pupils shook as adrenaline mixed in with the unhealthy amounts of caffeine flowing in his blood plasma. The scorching anxiety burnt the fog around his head, and for the first time in years, he regained the ability to actually think. I failed to save them once… I will… I will fail again?

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Something lit up inside Theo. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, maybe, but he had a hunch that he would regret it forever if he stepped to the side like the other pedestrians.

“Like the others… Like everyone else…” he muttered to himself. His pupils shrank at the sight of the approaching mugger as the world seemed to become darker.

He felt his eyes get blurry, every breath becoming more and more labored. His fragile heart was hammering against his chest with all the might it had.

He could do it. He could stop him. Would it be so bad if Theo were the main character for once, and others read about him?

Well, they would read, all right. In the newspapers, that is.

Once he lurched forward in a miserable dash to stop the guy, Theo’s eyes were blinded by a brilliant sheen, the mugger’s knife drawing a clean slash on his throat. For a moment, he regretted his decision. He felt a searing pain explode in his throat as his feet were caught on the pavement. Stumbling forward, he slammed into the mugger and tackled him to the ground. The man must have hit his head on the slightly protruding concrete block as he stopped struggling as soon as they were down.

Gurgling noises escaped from Theo’s trachea. He barely managed to turn his head amidst all the pain. And once he did, he saw the worried gazes of many people looking at him. That was it. This was the end of his story. Maybe cut short, but it was a better end than he could ever hope for.

Even if his body thrashed and attempted to hold his blood from leaving with his hands instinctively, a faint, bitter smile blossomed on his face. The shouts, the wails, calls for help, ambulance sirens… All blended into a strangely relaxing lullaby in his head.

Ah… I should have been this courageous back then.

Still, everything came to an end.

The darkness enveloped him, cradled him in its cold but calming embrace. Nothing was there. Only him. Even with no light source, he could still see his hands perfectly fine. As if he were the source of the light in the first place. His body felt weightless.