I didn't know what I was saying anymore. Maybe it's normal for the dying to lash out at the heavens. But deep down, the haze cleared enough for me to see the truth: I was to blame. My parents, my teachers, my siblings—they didn't ruin me. They gave me chances I threw away. I did this. All I could do now was point fingers, a pathetic last act for a pathetic man.
As my body flew through the air from the force of the blow, time seemed to hit a snag. The spinning chains, the falling debris, the smoke—it all became still, like a high-definition frame frozen on a screen. I couldn't even marvel at it; the agony in my spine was too sharp, too real.
Then, a voice echoed from the heavens. It wasn't loud, yet it boomed like thunder inside my skull.
"Enough. This example should suffice," it said, directed squarely at me.
I didn't understand. But in that frozen moment, I felt an undeniable command to close my eyes. Confused and broken, I obeyed. As my eyelids met, the pain, the burning, and the suffocating agony vanished in a heartbeat.
When I opened them again, the ruins were gone.
I was back in my room. The hum of my PC fan was steady, and the familiar blue glow of the monitor washed over me. I was seated in my chair, exactly as I had been. My breath came in desperate gasps, my hand clutching at my chest, feeling for wounds that weren't there.
"Was it... just a dream?" I croaked, trying to convince my racing heart that I'd just dozed off.
"It was a glimpse," the voice said, this time coming from right behind me.
I spun the chair around so fast I nearly tipped over. A woman with golden hair, dressed in a flowing white gothic dress, was sitting casually on my bed. she looked like a delicate porcelain doll, sipping from a teacup as if she'd been there for hours. She smiled, a small, knowing tilt of her lips.
"How are you feeling, Daniel Muntingbato? Or perhaps I should call you the Blessed One?"
My heart hammered against my ribs. "Who are you? What are you doing in my room?" I demanded, my voice thin and trembling.
She set the teacup down on her saucer with a soft clink. "Relax, Daniel. Please. We have much to discuss." She smoothed the fabric of her dress. "I am an angel of God, sent to fulfill the wishes of someone like you—a rare opportunity, I assure you."
"God heard your wishes," she continued, her eyes locking onto mine. "I'm here to make them come true. But first, I had to show you a glimpse of what your future could actually hold."
She explained that my delusions—my constant desire to escape this reality for a world of magic—weren't as simple as a TV show. She told me she had studied my life and, though it wasn't strictly in her orders, she had intervened to make sure I didn't waste this chance.
"What I showed you was you in another time, another dimension," she said calmly. "If I grant your wish to enter a magical world, you'll trade places with someone just like you."
"Trade places?" I asked, the confusion momentarily dulling the fear.
"Exactly," she nodded. "There is another person, identical to you in every way, living in a different realm. Like you, they want out. But their reality is one of constant danger. They are angry at God for being born into a world of suffering. I'm not sure a boy lost in fantasies can truly grasp that."
She stood up, her dress rustling softly in the quiet room. "Adventures, magic, battles—that's their world. The one you think you want. But think, Daniel—a person like you, with no ambition, lazy, and dependent on others... do you honestly believe you'd survive a single day there? Sending you there without this warning would be nothing more than granting a wish for a very swift, very painful death."
Her words stung, but the memory of that iron ball hitting my back made the truth impossible to ignore. I'd always skipped the "gritty" parts of the stories in my head, focusing only on the power and the girls. I'd wanted the escape without the cost.
"You have a choice," she said, approaching me. "Flee this reality, or change the one you have."
She lectured me then, not with anger, but with a cold, hard clarity. She spoke of the things I'd never achieve if I kept hiding behind a screen. She was right. I'd blamed the world for being 'boring,' but I was the one who had locked the door and thrown away the key.
I loved anime. It was my "will to live," sure. But it was supposed to be an inspiration, not a coffin. I felt a deep, burning shame. As an otaku, I'd watched heroes like Naruto struggle through loneliness to find strength. I'd watched Meteora face the impossible. What would they say if they saw me now, cowering in a dark room blaming the universe for my own laziness?
The angel stopped just a few feet away. "What's your choice? Are you leaving, or are you staying to change your current circumstances?" the mysterious woman questioned.
I shut my eyes and exhaled. It was true—I was torn. How could I reject the chance to fulfill my deepest desires? But deep down, I felt unworthy of such a gift.
In reality, billions of people would kill for this chance from God, and many were surely more worthy than I.
It felt like a missed opportunity, but I knew staying in this peaceful world was the right call. There's so much left to experience, and at twenty-five, I still have a long road ahead of me.
"Sigh... I was completely off-base," I muttered to myself.
A bittersweet smile played on my lips as I gazed at the book, the lingering regret vanishing as my resolve took over. I took a deep breath and looked directly at the Angel.
Gradually, I reached out to return the gift.
"Thank you for the chance," I said, smiling as I placed the red book back into her hands.