Moscow, 22:45. I was walking down the street, nearing my home with a box clutched in my hands. Inside it was a figurine of none other than Emperor Sheev Palpatine himself! Words could scarcely capture how long I had waited for this moment! I was practically skipping with impatience, burning with the urge to tear open the box and unveil my new collectible treasure.
At last, I arrived home, shed my coat, and set to work unpacking the newest member of my cherished collection. I had cleared a spot on the shelf the day before, positioned precisely at eye level so I could always admire her. My home was a modest single-story house, inherited from my parents. Whether it was misfortune or a quiet blessing, they had passed away of natural causes, having grown old together. Though years had passed since their deaths, there were moments when a pang of longing for them—and for the carefree days we once shared—gripped me.
The house itself was unremarkable: an ordinary private dwelling, but it suited me perfectly. My job wasn't particularly lucrative, yet it was enough to sustain me and indulge my little hobby. In all my years, I had never had a girlfriend, only a couple of friends from school days. But even they had long since left Russia with their families, chasing more prosperous lives abroad. I wouldn't say it bothered me much, but there were fleeting moments when I envied the couples I passed on the street, their soft murmurs and shared laughter. Truth be told, I could have pursued a more prestigious career—after all, I held a degree in economics and political science. But life hadn't unfolded as I'd envisioned, and the ambitions of a fresh graduate, eager to conquer the world, had slowly faded over time.
An hour after arriving home, having savored the aesthetic perfection of my new figurine and its place in my collection, I turned my attention to preparing dinner. As usual, I sliced potatoes and set them to bake, while on the sizzling skillet, I laid out cuts of beef—my love for steak and potatoes was unrivaled! The aroma that filled the kitchen was so tantalizing I could hardly wait to eat. Naturally, dinner would be accompanied by a viewing of Star Wars, tonight's choice being Episode III: Revenge of the Sith. Half an hour later, I settled at the table, armed with the remote and a fork, already imagining the savory taste of the meat. But then, a crash echoed from my bedroom, followed by the unmistakable sound of shattering glass.
Setting down my utensils, I grabbed the meat tenderizer—hardly a weapon, but the best I could muster—and crept toward the noise. Moving silently, barely breathing, I approached my bedroom and overheard voices: "Ouch, damn it, Seryoga! I told you to be careful! What if the owner walks in now?" My heart sank. Two burglars had broken into my home! I reached for my smartphone, only to discover it was dead—I'd forgotten to charge it, as I usually did before bed.
As quietly and quickly as I could, I moved to the landline to call the police, but my luck soured further: no signal. Those bastards must have cut the line! Hiding behind the kitchen door, I gripped the tenderizer, ready to swing at the first intruder to step through. Their clumsy attempts at stealth were laughable—creaking doors and shuffling steps betrayed their presence. My heart pounded, adrenaline surging, urging me to charge like some Viking berserker. But before I could act, a bandit lunged from around the corner, as if he knew exactly where I'd be. Caught off guard, I stumbled, pulling the bearded thief down with me, but dropped my makeshift weapon in the process. I was no fighter, that much was clear. Then the second thug appeared, drawing a pistol and aiming it at me. A single, frantic thought flashed through my mind: I'm done for.
SFX: Gunshot
A searing pain tore through my chest, but no scream escaped—I was choking on blood. The one I'd tackled stood, wiping my blood off himself with a towel hanging nearby. My body grew heavy, unable to move, a chilling cold spreading through me like molten lead. The pain dulled, my vision blurred, and my eyelids felt impossibly heavy, begging to close. The faint remnants of my consciousness fought to stay awake as I overheard their conversation, the shock of their actions seemingly fading.
"Damn it, you killed him! Where the hell are we supposed to hide the body? What if someone heard the shot? I'm not going to prison for life!"
"Calm down. We're in the middle of nowhere, next to a forest, and this house is isolated. No one heard a thing. We'll bury the body in the woods. Let's see what this guy's got worth taking first."
With those words, my eyes closed, and I heard nothing more. Though I knew I was dead, my consciousness lingered. It felt as if I were lying in an immense, pitch-black room, where nothing could be seen. Had I really met such a foolish, senseless end? Even if I had abandoned my grand ambitions, deep within me burned a desire to be an emperor—a childish dream, perhaps, but one that sent shivers of awe through me. I didn't just love Star Wars; I adored it with every fiber of my being, especially the Galactic Empire and Shiva Palpatine, with his unmatched wisdom and cunning.
My surge of anger was interrupted by a sound like the chime of an old Nokia phone, and a window appeared before my eyes: "Your wish has been reviewed and approved! Initiating soul transfer to a new world!"
Before I could fully grasp what was happening, the window changed: "Attention! You have received a new task: Conquer the initial world to begin your journey across the galaxy!" Though shock coursed through me, it was swiftly overtaken by a thrill of anticipation. Could I truly become an emperor? Could I rise as the new lord of the Galactic Empire? Haha, God—or whoever you are—you won't regret granting me the chance to conquer the universe!