The thin blade stabbed into the left side of my abdomen as I tried to be some sort of "hero," attempting to stop a young woman from getting assaulted in an alley.
Mind you, I was nowhere near a combat genius or martial artist. I was also someone who didn't work out much—except for the occasional 5-lb dumbbell curl once a month whenever I got that sudden surge of motivation after watching an anime edit.
As blood began to soak into my conveniently white shirt, my vision dimmed into darkness. I felt the blade twist twice, like someone locking a door before removing the key—except, in this case, the "key" was the knife lodged in my side.
Clutching the wound, I tried to stay alive, but my legs buckled. I stumbled and collapsed to my knees, then onto the cold pavement of the alley. In my fading hearing, I heard the young woman shouting for help, but I already knew they wouldn't make it in time.
Who would? And I doubted a doctor would randomly appear like in the movies, raising their index finger and yelling, "I'm a doctor!"
I could feel my body temperature dropping, like a campfire doused by unexpected rain. Worse, my bowels gave out—humiliating for a 24-year-old man pissing and shitting himself unintentionally.
As I exhaled what I knew was my last breath, my mind raced. What would happen when I was gone? How long before my online friends thought I abandoned them? How many new anime, manga, and novels would I miss? And how long until everyone forgot me entirely?
I had never believed in an afterlife—no Heaven, Hell, reincarnation, or Valhalla. But if there was one, I'd probably end up in Hell: useless to myself, selfish to my family, and only helpful to others so they'd like me.
And then… I was gone. Snuffed out like a candle.
——————
『Wait… What are they saying?』
"Wh... Ki...… T…m?"
『Whkitim? Damn, what does that mean?』
Muffled voices of two men reached me, accompanied by loud noises. I couldn't see anything, but I felt my body rocking side to side, bouncing up and down. Strangely, I couldn't feel my limbs—like I was paralyzed or limbless. A suffocating heaviness pressed around me, but I couldn't make sense of it.
"Why should we…"
『Come on… Say it!』
Gradually, their voices sharpened. One was gruff; the other was low and soft—almost hesitant, both carrying British accents.
"Why should we bury 'em? They're nothing but prisoner slaves. Should've left 'em for the dogs, if you ask me," the softer voice said, dripping with disdain.
"Warden said, 'I don't want 'em stinkin' up the place. Bury 'em far enough their stench don't reach the city—or burn 'em if you prefer.' So that's what we're doin'. Got a problem? Take it up with 'im. Don't bitch at me," the gruff man replied, more annoyed than angry.
"Ugh… It's not fair. We're guards, not
gravediggers. Feels like we're treated like lower slaves instead of higher-ups. Don't you think?"
"Whatever. I'm still gettin' paid. And don't you ever compare me to 'em. Shut up, quit whinin', and let's get this over with. These things reek."
Stench + burning + burying in the middle of nowhere…
『Oh God… This weight isn't just paralysis. I'm underneath—and surrounded by—!』
I wanted to vomit. Worse, I couldn't move or confirm the horror, though maybe that was a mercy—otherwise, I'd have died twice.
After twenty minutes of swaying and bouncing, the motion stopped, and I began to hear the sound of shoveling. Suddenly, the crushing weight lifted.
"Finally, this is the last one. Damn, they really dragged a kid into their little riot? What kind of parents do that?" the younger man muttered, sighing like he was disappointed.
"Doubt the boy had any. Don't care. Lift 'im and toss 'im."
Five seconds of movement—then I was hurled onto something hard yet mushy. My neck snapped to the side with a sickening pop.
Their voices grew distant.
"Where you goin'? Shouldn't we burn 'em now?"
"Nah. 'Bout to rain. No point if it'll just put the fire out. Dirt's easier to shovel wet anyway. We'll cover 'em in the mornin'. Let's go before we're soaked."
Footsteps crunched away, followed by the sound of wheels retreating.
『Is this death? Hearing everything but trapped in stillness? If so, how long has someone dead for a century been listening? Who was alive then… Abraham Lincoln?』
A raindrop tapped my cheek, trailing down to my mouth. Then, the downpour began, soaking my lifeless body.
As I felt the rain trickle over my eyeball, my vision slowly returned, but I couldn't blink, so my eyes burned. Before long, though, I regained the ability. Blinking once to soothe the sting, my eyes widened.
『Holy shit! T-That's… That's a… Oh God, oh God…』
To my right, I saw the glazed, lifeless eyes of a woman. Then, another realization sent me into panic—I couldn't breathe. It was like the suffocating weight of someone sitting on your back as a cruel joke. My chest tightened, and my mind raced.
『I'm freaking out! I'm in a mountain of corpses! I can't breathe or move, and I'm gonna get burned and buried!』
『I need to move. I need to breathe. I need to save myself. Okay, okay… Calm down. I have to get out of this hole and just run. If this is Hell, then I'm sorry for what I've done—but I'm not ready to stay. I want another chance.』
As if granted a wish—or a cruel boon—my index finger twitched. Once. Twice. Over the next ten minutes, movement returned, one finger at a time, until I could wiggle them freely, like typing on an invisible keyboard.
『Yes, yes! Let's go! Alright… Stage 10: Move all my fingers—complete. Next stage: hands. Make a fist.』
I curled my fingers repeatedly, a motion some anime fan might've jokingly called "Nyaaaah~!"
Then, excitement surged as my knuckles flexed. Skipping the tedious details, after thirty minutes, I could shift my body—but breathing remained impossible. The suffocation was unbearable, but I forced myself to stay calm. I wasn't dead. If I were, I wouldn't be struggling like this.
I sat up—only for my vision to lurch downward as my head tilted unnaturally.
『Right… Broken neck.』
Oddly, the corpses beneath me didn't faze me. Growing up with mortician parents meant I'd seen my share of bodies. I'd never liked them, but I'd learned to cope.
Gripping the sides of my head, I steadied myself with a shaky exhale (or at least, the attempt at one) and muttered aloud: "Just one quick motion. One quiiiiick motion… Alright. Three, two, one—!"
With a sharp twist, I snapped my head back into place. A tingling shudder wracked my body, forcing out a choked "Ooooough…" The sensation was like a sleeping limb waking up—intense, fleeting, and utterly bizarre.
Looking around at my feet, I grimaced.
『At least I can't breathe—otherwise, I wouldn't be able to keep going at all. It's already taking all of my strength not to throw up…』
I decided not to worry about that and looked up, staring at the entrance of the dug hole as the rain continued.
『Dammit, how do I get out of here?』
I murmured to myself with a frown, wobbling unsteadily over the bodies, my face scrunching in disgust.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry—"
I repeated the words with each step, careful not to step on their faces or accidentally make them burst.
When I reached the muddied side of the hole, I tried grabbing the dirt and climbing, pressing my feet against the side—but I immediately slipped and bashed my head against a corpse's skull. The impact made me scream, a raw mix of pain and fear, half-panicked and half-agonized.
I groaned in pain before opening my eyes—then they widened. "Huh…"
Something squishy pressed against my right hand. I looked down and saw my fingers sinking into a corpse's flesh. I jolted upright, scrambled to my feet, and frantically wiped my hands on my tattered, soaked pants.
"Ew, ew, ew…" I muttered, shuddering before forcing myself to take a deep breath.
『Shit, okay… It's too slippery to climb—』
Pondering my options, I raised a hand to my chin, stroking it absently as I wobbled across the sea of corpses.
"Sorry… sorry…" I whispered with each unsteady step before stopping in front of the mud-caked wall again.
I pulled my hand away from my chin and pressed my palm against the slick surface, squishing the sludge between my fingers.
『Daaaaammit… How the hell do I get out of here? Alright, think. There's gotta be something—just one damn thing.』
I scanned my surroundings, but all I saw were decaying bodies—dozens of them, all dressed in the same tattered outfit as me. The same clothes. The same…
『Clothing! Okay, I can use the fabric—make a rope and haul myself out of this hellhole!』
Nodding to myself, I steeled my nerves and started rifling through the corpses.
『Is this grave-robbing?』 I wondered. 『Or is it just borrowing, since this was supposed to be my grave too?』
No, probably not—I was still stripping corpses in a mass grave.
『Ugh, god, this is disgusting… Sorry, everyone. But I need this. I need to survive, dammit!』
〔Chapter 1 END〕