I woke up choking on air.
My eyes shot open, my chest rising like I had just broken the surface of water after drowning. I sat up fast, gasping, sweat soaking through my clothes.
I looked around.
Familiar cracked ceiling. Peeling paint. The dim light of early morning slipping through the broken blinds.
My room.
My shitty, tiny room.
But… I died.
I remembered the blood. The cold. The way my body collapsed like it didn't belong to me anymore. That thing stabbed me—ran me through like I was paper. I felt it. I felt myself die.
So why the hell was I back here?
"What the hell is going on…" I muttered, grabbing my stomach.
No wound. No pain. Just the faintest memory of something sharp where my gut should've been split open.
Then it happened.
A voice—clear, mechanical, but not entirely cold.
"Initializing interface. Confirming neural activity… Welcome, User."
I froze.
That voice wasn't in my head. It was in the room.
"What the—who said that?" I looked around wildly. No one. Nothing. Just my busted dresser, the stained walls, and a pile of worn-out clothes in the corner. "Hello?"
"Auditory response detected. You appear disoriented. Activating visual interface to clarify—"
"No, wait, what does that—"
A bright light flashed right in front of my face.
I flinched so hard I nearly fell out of bed.
"HOLY—!"
Floating in front of me, like some kind of ghostly hologram, was a glowing blue interface. Smooth lines. Sleek design. Too perfect. Too real. Just hovering there like something ripped straight from a video game menu.
"What the hell is that!?"
"System Interface Online. Now beginning synchronization—"
"NOPE." I swatted at it like it was a bug, scrambling back on the bed. "What are you?! What is this?! Am I hallucinating?! Did the goblins finally break my brain?!"
"Synchronization interrupted. Attempting to recalibrate—"
A knock cut through my panic.
"Chosa?" Yomi's voice came from behind my door, calm and sleepy like nothing was wrong in the world. "I'm heading out to school. You up?"
I looked at the interface. It was still there, floating like it didn't care I was losing my mind.
I glanced at the door. "Uh—Yomi, wait!"
The door creaked open. She peeked in, her backpack slung over one shoulder, chewing a piece of dry toast.
"You okay?" she asked. "You look like you saw a ghost."
"I—can you see this?" I jabbed a finger toward the interface. "Right here. Floating. Blue. Freaky. You see that, right?"
She blinked. Looked around the room. Then at me.
"Nooo…" she said slowly, like I had gone full lunatic. "I don't see anything. Did you hit your head or something?"
I just stared at her.
She sighed. "Eat something before you starve. You always get weird when you don't eat."
With that, she closed the door.
Click.
I turned back toward the glowing screen hovering silently like it had been watching the whole thing.
"…Okay," I said quietly. "What are you?"
There was a moment of silence. Then the voice returned—calmer this time.
"I am LUNA. An autonomous system interface designed to assist registered Makers. My primary functions are data analysis, inventory management, tactical support, and environment manipulation."
I rubbed my temples. "Right. Of course. Totally normal. So, here's the thing. I'm not a Maker. I'm a broke, D-rank reject with a useless ability and trauma issues. Sooo… wrong guy."
"Acknowledged. You are not a Maker."
"Glad we agree."
"However… my previous Maker was terminated by your actions."
I froze.
"What?"
"Upon your death at the hands of my former Maker, the ability 'Copy' was successfully triggered. You acquired and duplicated my core system. Your physical body was reconstructed using my remaining backup stabilization protocols."
My mouth was dry.
"You're saying I copied you?"
"Affirmative. Partial transfer of system capabilities successful. However, due to non-Maker classification, access to higher-level commands is restricted."
I slumped back onto the bed, staring at the flickering interface.
"I'm losing it," I muttered. "I died, and now I'm talking to a sci-fi ghost in my bedroom."
"I am not a ghost. I am LUNA. I possess limited power and can provide the following functions under current constraints:"
The screen shifted, displaying a neat list in glowing white text:
Inventory Access – A personal storage space outside of time for holding equipment, items, or materials.
Creature Log – Weaknesses and minor behavioral data of encountered Tower creatures.
System Reserve – One-time ability: either edit an existing skill, or generate a new low-tier ability.
I stared.
Then laughed once—short, sharp, and entirely unhinged.
"Inventory. A bestiary. And a one-time skill ticket," I mumbled. "That's what I died for."
"Affirmative."
I ran my hand through my hair, still trying to make sense of any of this.
Somewhere out there, in the Tower, that thing—the real Maker—was still chained, waiting.
And me?
I was back from the dead. With something it never wanted me to have.
"…This doesn't feel like a blessing," I said.