The bus rumbled beneath him, stopping every few minutes for passengers leaving and arriving. Skye sat alone in the farthest seat, his backpack on his lap, his fingers wrapped around a paper coffee cup that had long gone cold.
The windows reflected his face faintly—a pale outline, dark eyes sunken from too many sleepless nights. His long hair was tied in a lazy half-bun that was beginning to unravel, and under his heavy coat, the collar his hoodie peeked out.
It was 11:43 PM and he was only just returning from his college's studio. He had a final review critique at 9 AM the next morning, a portfolio to submit by noon, and a half-finished commission due by midnight. He hadn't eaten dinner. Again.
He lifted the cup, sipping out of habit, and winced.
Ah, it's gone cold...
Across from him, a young couple sat shoulder to shoulder, watching something on their phone and laughing quietly. Another student—maybe younger than him—stood swaying near the doors, earbuds in, clutching the strap of his backpack. Skye watched them for a moment, then looked down at his hands.
The charcoal smudges on his fingers hadn't faded. He'd spent the afternoon in the studio, hunched over a canvas that refused to make sense. It was supposed to be a piece about "yearning," but all he could see in it was frustration and fatigue.
That's what I've become. He inwardly remarked. A walking thesis on burnout.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He clicked on the notification and saw his art group's group chat fire messages back and forth.
Ethan: [Hey Skye, did ya finish the charcoal piece?]
Greyson: [Don't ask. He's gonna cry again.]
Ezra: [Bet he stayed late again. Bro, don't work so hard.]
Skye quietly chuckled, quickly typing out a response.
Skye: [Cant, gotta finish this degree. But hey, I'm still alive. Barely. I'm going home right now.]
Ethan: [Sleep please. Ya look like a haunted victorian child.]
Ezra: [That's fuckin' hilarious. What an accurate comparison.]
He smiled faintly, just for a second, before the weight of the world settled back on his shoulders.
...
By the time he got off the train and started the walk home, the city had gone quiet. Snow clung to the curbs and sidewalks, turned grey by the passing of cars and boots. His building was only two blocks away, a cramped studio apartment above a corner convenience store that smelled perpetually of ramen and fishcake.
As he crossed the street, the night air bit through his coat. The silence made everything feel oddly suspended, like the world was holding its breath.
What am I doing with my life? He wondered.
It was not a bitter thought, nor dramatic one, but a sort of quiet, exhausted thought that only came when you'd run out of distractions. He had dreams once. Big ones. Having his works placed in a museum. Owning an art studio. Publishing an illustrated novel. Becoming the kind of artist whose name was spread around the industry.
Now, he was working part-time at a coffee shop three days a week, sketching portraits for fifty bucks on commission, and praying his student loans didn't eat him alive.
Is this what I really wanted for myself?
Then his phone buzzed again.
Mom: [Did you eat today?]
Mom: [Don't skip your meals. You'll visit your mom soon, won't you?]
He saw the message and smiled.
Skye: [I didn't, mom. I'll stop by this week when I get the chance.]
He paused at the corner. The pedestrian light blinked red. The wind swept past, tugging at his coat and hair.
Then came the sound.
Slick tires on wet asphalt. A horn, too fast and too close.
He turned his head.
Headlights accompanied by a loud blaring horn.
The impact didn't feel like he thought it would. It wasn't dramatic or loud. It wasn't cinematic—it was quiet.
A muted thump.
The world spun.
And then everything just…
Stopped.
...
Skye never believed in reincarnation, nor did he believe in any gods and superstitions. He was a normal college youth, working his way towards his goals.
"... Where am... I?"
That was until he opened his eyes and examined the space around him.
"Is this the afterlife?"
A wide, expansive blue sky filled the horizon while the bottom of his feet sat the ocean, reflective enough to see his features clearly. Skye felt weightless, heck, he was even walking on a water-like surface. This was no reality.
He wandered around the vast space until a flash of bright light entered the corner of his eyes. He walked closer and saw a cube. He carefully reached out his hands and touched the blue semi-transparent cube. As soon as his fingers brushed against it, an automated voice entered his mind.
[Loading System]
[Activation: Fixing System...]
[Activation Complete]
Skye briskly took his hands off the cube. "What the—"
System: [Hello host! I am 110, The Fixing System at your service!]
The cube which was previously stationary flew closer to Skye and started to bounce up and down as it talked. Skye could not help but be confused.
What in the hell is going on? System?
"Where am I? What's going on? And...what exactly are you?"
System: [Answering the hosts' questions, we are currently in your domain. Every host has a domain of their own that they may able to use for many things like rest or storage. As for why you are here... well...]
The system that had been bouncing happily, halted and started to shake. Recalling its memory it added:
System: [The higher gods had made a mistake with your life thread and accidentally cut it short. Therefore, you were given a chance to reclaim or renew your life with a guaranteed wish. As for the host's last question, I am 110, The Fixing System that fixes bugs in the dimensions.]
Skye looked at the system with a confused glance. Everything did not make sense to him. Dimension? Higher gods? His beliefs and views of the world were thoroughly shaken. However, what he was intrigued with the most was...
"Did you say a mistake? My life was cut short by mistake...?"
System: [That is why the higher gods had decided to make you a host to compensate the—]
"Compensate? Wait, why can't they just fix the problem? Bringing me back to life would be the simplest solution, wouldn't it?" Skye frowned, frustration creeping in. Then, he squinted at the system, skepticism evident on his face. "You said you were a system that fixes bugs in the dimensions. Why didn't you catch an error this big earlier? Isn't that your job? I-I can't die here! I have school, a job, and family to take care of!"
System: [H-Host, please calm down. Going back is possible—but only after you accumulate sufficient power by completing missions in your new life. The higher gods have designed this way as the safest and most effective method.]
Skye frowned even more. Crossing his arms, he said, "So, let me get this straight. You're saying I can get my old life back, but only if I Iive someone else's life? Why can't your higher gods just snap their fingers and fix this mess?"
System: [It's not about their willingness, it's about the magnitude of your wish. A time reversal and a revival of your body requires an immense amount of energy. That energy cannot simply be created; it has to be earned bit by bit. One way to do that is to become a host and complete missions.]
Skye raised a brow, his fingers twitching in thought. "Earned...? You're saying this is some kind of payback system?"
The system bounced happily.
System: [Yes, host! Think of this as a cosmic exchange. Each successful mission you complete generates power that accumulates overtime. Once enough power is gathered, the higher gods can safely reverse the severance of your life thread without destabilizing the timeline.]
Skye stood there, contemplating, before sighing. He leaned back and rubbed his temples. The idea of becoming someone else's and living their life didn't really sit well with him. "So, in conclusion... I jump into some stranger's life, do your missions, and play along until I've gathered enough power to get back to my old life?"
System: [Bingo! And I assure you, the missions are not meaningless. They are missions that serves a greater purpose, for you, the original soul, and the balance of the dimensions.]
The original soul?... Skye wanted to ask, but only shook his head. Any more questions and his head would spin. And he had a feeling that he'd find out more once he plays along. "What an over complicated way to fix a mistake. But, alright, I'll go along with it. But this better work, or I'll be coming for your 'higher gods' myself."
The system felt drenched in cold sweat.
System: [Don't worry host! As long as you complete the missions, you'll definitely achieve your goals!]
Skye rolled his eyes. "Alright, alright. Just get on with it."
System: [Perfect, host! All you need to do is sign this contract, and we'll continue to the mission world.]
The system chimed happily with its robotic voice.
With a snap, a golden light appeared, molded into a translucent screen—and beside it, a golden feathered pen hovered.
Skye could not understand the language written on the contract so all he could do is sigh and reluctantly sign his name. As soon as he did so, the contract glowed then dissipated.
System: [Oh right host, I forgot to tell you.]
Suddenly, Skye had a bad feeling. "W-What is it?"
System: [If you ever fail a mission, you'll lose the chance to revive and die permanently. So, host must do his best to complete those missions!]
"Hah?! Wait—Don't just fly away! Tell me what you mean first! Wait!!"