Shen Waqing's eyelashes fluttered open—and she froze.
A thin line formed between her brows as she frowned in confusion.
She rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands. They were open, she was certain of it—but the pitch-black darkness surrounding her made her wonder if she had somehow gone blind.
Nothing could be seen.
And although she could feel solid ground beneath her feet, it still felt as though she were floating in a domain of absolute nothingness.
Where am I?
The question rang through her mind, her lips pressed into a thin line.
She was sure she had died.
Yes—she remembered. She had fallen off a twelve-story building. There was nothing to expect from such a fall except... death.
Although there was no wind in this strange void, a creeping chill seeped deep into her bones. The cold was unnatural, biting. It sent goosebumps racing across her skin and made her shiver involuntarily.
She hugged herself tightly, trying to create some semblance of warmth.
Is this where dead people go?
Now that I'm dead... what comes next?
Suddenly, a loud hum rumbled through the space, as if responding to her thoughts. It drilled into her ears and shook the ground beneath her.
Shen Waqing winced, hands flying up to cover her ears as her eyes darted around, desperate to find the source of the noise.
But it was still pitch black.
Then, just as suddenly, a glowing rectangular screen lit up before her. It flickered twice, unstable at first, before materializing completely.
She stared at it with wide, disbelieving eyes.
A cold, mechanical voice echoed in the silence.
"Version 1.0 of the Underworld Death System now running. Assistant in place."
Her breath hitched.
"Kim Shen Waqing. Age: 17. Born in the Year of the Tiger. Student of Haneul High School, Grade 11. Cause of death: direct impact to the head, multiple broken limbs, and excessive blood loss. Time of death: October 21, 2014."
The voice was cold, sterile—completely devoid of emotion.
Wait… Does the underworld use technology now?
Shen Waqing was stunned.
The mechanical voice continued.
"Please confirm: Student Shen Waqing."
Only then did she realize it was waiting for a response.
"Ah… yes. That's me," Shen Waqing answered quickly.
"After living an unsatisfying life and dying at the age of seventeen, the Underworld Death System has decided to offer you a chance to return to the world of the living."
Shen Waqing blinked, dumbfounded.
"Go back…? Back to life?"
"Yes," the voice replied. "It will not be an easy process. There is a 90% chance of failure. Do you accept the challenge?"
"No."
Her answer was immediate.
Then, realizing how blunt she sounded, she added politely while shaking her head, "I mean... no, thank you. I'm fine with dying."
Seriously? Who would want to go back?
She had jumped for a reason. Suicide wasn't something you did lightly.
Sure, she had her regrets—but honestly, living had just been too exhausting.
All she wanted now was some peace and quiet.
There was a pause.
Then the system said, "You… don't want to go back?"
"No. I'm good with whatever happens next. So… where do I go now that I'm dead?" she asked, tilting her head with a hint of curiosity.
A mechanical hum followed.
"That wasn't in the script."
Shen Waqing frowned. "You mean...?"
"I will have to consult the Main System."
Then, just like that, the voice vanished. The glowing screen flickered and disappeared.
Silence.
Shen Waqing stared at the space where the system had been. "Hey! Hey, where did you go? System?"
Her voice echoed back at her, unanswered.
The darkness closed in once again.
She began to feel dizzy. Her eyes stung from the blackness, and unease twisted in her stomach. She shouted for a while, but still—nothing.
Eventually, she gave up, curling into a ball on the cold, invisible floor. She hugged her knees tightly to her chest, her eyes wide open—but it made no difference at all.
She waited.
With no hunger, no thirst, and no sense of time, she simply… waited.
Like a little ghost drifting between worlds.
She didn't know how long it had been.
An hour? A day? A month? A year?
It felt like an eternity.
The oppressive silence gnawed at her nerves, and sometimes, just to break it, she would hum softly to herself—off-key and fragmented, anything to stop the nothingness from swallowing her whole.
As an orphan abandoned in front of an orphanage when she was just three months old and later adopted by an indifferent couple, she had thought she was used to loneliness.
But this?
This was on another level.
So even loneliness has layers, she thought bitterly.
Just then, a small beep shattered her thoughts.
Her head snapped toward the sound.
A familiar rectangular screen appeared once again, and tears welled up in her eyes before she could stop them.
"You're back," she whispered, standing up in a rush and nervously rubbing her sweaty palms together.
A soft click followed before the system's voice returned.
"There is a delay with the Main System. Your soul cannot proceed with reincarnation for the moment."
"...So?"
Shen Waqing's heart dropped. A bad premonition gripped her.
"Student Shen Waqing will have to remain in this artificially created space until the issue is resolved."
"For how long?" she asked cautiously.
"It might take a while."
It replied too quickly.
How long is "a while"?! Shen Waqing screamed internally. She didn't want to stay in this cursed void a second longer.
"Isn't there any other way? Another place? I'll go anywhere but here!"
"Unfortunately, there is not. Your soul cannot exist in any other location but this space."
Shen Waqing bit her lip, feeling hopeless. There was nothing left to consider.
"Then I'll do it," she said quietly. "I'll take the challenge. If I do, I can leave this place, right?"
"You can," the system confirmed.
"Then I accept. What do I have to do?"
"First, you must sign the agreement contract."
A thin, transparent sheet of light materialized before her.
She stared at it, then glanced around. "Uh… I need a pen."
"Use your soul to sign. Please stretch out your hand over the contract."
She hesitated, then obeyed.
As her hand hovered over the contract, a strange discomfort rose in her chest. It felt as if something essential was being pulled out of her—something precious slipping from her fingertips and seeping into the glowing contract.
She resisted the urge to yank her hand back. After about fifteen seconds, the sensation stopped.
"Congratulations, Student Shen Waqing. You have activated the Rebirth-Death System."
Digital fireworks lit up the air.
Her expression remained flat.
She didn't want to go back—at least, not to the life she'd lived before.
Besides, hadn't the system said there was a 90% chance of failure?
Shen Waqing had always been unlucky. If she failed, maybe the glitch would be resolved and she could go wherever the system wanted to send her.
I can do this, she cheered halfheartedly in her head—then paused.
Wait. What am I doing?
A grinding noise echoed from all around her.
Ten enormous paintings emerged from the walls of the void, each nearly her height, floating upright in the air. Their soft glow pushed back some of the darkness, bringing a measure of comfort.
She stepped forward toward the closest one.
It was a family photo, framed in aged wood with a crack running across the glass. The painting was so detailed it looked real—like a snapshot of a warm memory frozen in time.
The picture showed a couple in their thirties, both wearing wool sweaters and matching smiles. Between them stood a little girl in a yellow dress, a yellow bow tying up her ponytail. She held a birthday cake, her face lit up with a wide, joyful grin.
It was just a warm, ordinary photo… until the painting abruptly folded in on itself and fell to the ground.
"These are individual worlds," the system's voice said. "Each one is like the Earth you came from. In every world, there is a son or daughter of destiny—a protagonist—whom the world favors. Your task is to enter these worlds and resolve the regrets of the cannon fodder characters connected to each painting."
"Yikes!" Shen Waqing yelped, stumbling back as the now-folded painting hit the ground with a thud.
The system let out a screech, as if mocking her reaction.
Rubbing her nose sheepishly, she knelt down and picked up the object.
"The painting turned into a book," she muttered in amazement. "So… does that mean I'm entering the book? Like transmigration?"
She had read enough webnovels to recognize the setup. But experiencing it herself was a whole different matter.
"You can think of it like that," the system replied flatly. It beeped twice, then added, "Your first mission has been assigned."
Looking at the book in her hand, Shen Waqing's confidence began to crumble.
I couldn't even fix my own life. How am I supposed to help someone else?
A bitter smile crossed her lips. "What happens if I fail?" she asked.
"Your soul will be obliterated and cease to exist."
Her eyes widened. "What?!"
Obliterated?
Cease to exist?
Shen Waqing felt alarm bells go off in her head.
She didn't want that. She definitely didn't want that.
Just then, the system said, "Since you have received your first mission... Good luck."
She stared at the book, stunned.
"Wait. What do you—"
A wave of dizziness crashed over her.
She dropped to her knees, unable to keep her eyes open a
second longer.
With a final thud, she collapsed to the ground.
That hurts… she thought weakly, slipping into unconsciousness.