Bitter Choice [Prologue]

"Are you listening to me?" A voice sounded but I ignored it momentarily.

I remembered one thing.

There was a famous saying that if you committed a crime, you would be absolutely punished.

In life or death, the individual would pay.

However, it was a saying that almost never really came true.

Several criminals got away with it, even after committing atrocities and massacres in their life.

Anyway, there was another saying too. A religious one.

If you were to go to hell, judged as a sinner, you would have to pay for all your mistakes, no matter how small.

Of course, as someone who didn't believe in religions like those, I didn't agree with either idea.

It was simply a matter of logic to think so.

For starters, what had God done for me or the people around me to make me believe those words?

Well.

The problem was that, although I said this readily, things weren't looking good for my beliefs.

At first, those dictations were no longer simple dictations, but something I was experiencing myself.

"Hey. Answer me. Can you hear me?"

I didn't answer again, something else came to mind.

An article once said that if a situation was too incomprehensible, a person's thought process would become quite simple.

Almost as if he or she has temporarily become dumber.

I looked around once more, a little stunned.

In a kind of closed office, with lavish perks and decorations, I was forced to make a certain choice.

Sitting across from me was a red-haired woman dressed in a suit and looking at me with a sour facial expression.

She was responsible for assigning me somekind of important decision, apparently.

You see, it's gone beyond the concept of "complicated", so let's simplify everything.

"Fuuuu…" I sighed deeply.

Just put it this way: that thing they used to call "purgatory" or "hell" exists and I think I'm in it.

I had died and the cause had been something so stupid it was laughable to talk about.

The cause of my death, according to that woman, was "heart attack due to high blood pressure, which caused cardiac arrest."

One day, my blood pressure suddenly skyrocketed and BOOM, here I was.

At least, that's what I'd been told.

Frankly, my blood pressure went up for what reason? Maybe the stress of my job? Or something else I didn't know about?

I didn't know at all and they refused to discuss this further.

"Hmm..."

My eyes were a little far from reality.

My last memory was saying goodbye to my mother, after visiting her inland.

That should have been the last thing my mind was able to remember — so when did my death happen?

"I'll ask one last time since you've been ignoring me. Please sign this quickly."

I was jolted out of my daze by the woman sitting behind the table.

Without hesitation, she threw a form in front of me.

There were some things written in a strange language on it — which I could strangely understand — with a blank presumably for my signature below.

"Right. So I'm dead? Did I die for such a stupid reason even after I did everything I could to keep my health in good shape? Really?"

I wanted to get some information out of her, but the woman didn't seem to mind.

She already looked irritated by nature, actually.

"Do you think everyone has to die for great reasons? You were just an ordinary worker. Besides, there are a lot of people who die choking on soda."

She drummed her fingers on the wooden surface.

She frowned her face for a second, then returned to her usual expression.

"Fine. That's it. Now, hurry up and make your choice at once."

Ok, calm down.

I could still be bothered by everything that was going on, and even if I didn't want to believe it, I didn't have much of a choice.

All the options were minimal here… and anyway, I was in literal hell right now.

"I understand." I replied.

It was up to me whether I would accept the settlement proposed in the form or simply give up.

For some reason, I felt a sense of déjà vu for a second, but then ignored it.

I just had to decide and sign below. Very simple.

However, I had been forced to make a choice I never thought possible.

I looked down.

There were several lines written on that form that I was more than familiar with.

I read them quickly.

They were listed in a random order but still continued readable.

[The Hero's Survival Guide]

[Four Steps of the King of Apocalypse]

[Somehow the game came to reality, but I'm just a supporting character]

[Where is the Demon King?]

I understood.

My suspicions had been confirmed within seconds.

These were all the titles of the online novels I've written in my long-lived 6-year authoring career.

According to the woman, my accusations were "Being a repeat offender" and "Not caring about others or their respectives lives".

So, in view of all this, I would have to pay for my sins (or some mediocre bullshit like that).

For that, I would be sent into the world of one of the novels that I wrote and made myself.

But there was another problem with that...

"So, let me get this straight. Will I be transported to one of these worlds?" A devious smile curved the beautiful woman's rosy lips.

"Yea." She said. "As for the character, it will be a matter of judgment according to his personality."

Shit.

So things were really bad. Like, REALLY bad.

It was justifiable that that bitch in the suit was smiling now — she knew the state of my novel worlds.

They were all chaotic.

It was to the point of being so disturbing that, at certain points in the stories, massacres became everyday things.

"Fuck..."

I, without a doubt, should have written more peaceful novels…

*******

"I understand."

Right. A few minutes had passed since I'd received the form of the manuscript choices.

I asked for some answers and got an explanation from this person who was presumably a Grim Reaper or a demon from hell.

Things were worse than they seemed to be.

In short, every living person on Earth has sinned.

With the exception of very rare cases — and essentially impossible in the modern era — no one was immediately sent to heaven.

This was exactly why everyone, including me, went through the process of atonement for the small sins they had accumulated throughout their whole life.

Furthermore, as there was an infinite list of different sins cataloged who knows how, the method of atonement differed for each.

As I recall, I was a novelist.

Frankly, I was a web novel author who, luckily, managed to survive with novels described as second-rate or third-rate ones.

Yeah, I wasn't one of the best. I knew that better than anyone.

That's why I assumed my biggest sins were the blatant lies I told my readers and having abandoned works halfway.

I knew it was a writer's greatest sin to leave a story unfinished, but I calmly dug up secondary accounts to publish other works.

I was lazy and a severe writer's block got in my way immensely too.

The woman started talking again.

"You see. Sins are usually small, but if the numbers of those small sins accumulate, naturally the scale of those sins also increases. It's simple."

"Oh, yes. Yes, I understand." I nodded.

It was bizarre to think that a person's entire fate was decided by simple arithmetic.

It made me question whether this system was really good.

"Good thing we're coming to an understanding."

Frankly, just her voice made me feel shivers run down my spine.

That cold tone of voice that came out of the Reaper's mouth seemed to pierce my skin like a thousand needles.

It was different and bitter on another level.

I was worried about a lot of different things and wondering what would happen if I died after I had already died.

If that even made sense.

"You understand the punishment too, don't you? Or do you want me to repeat it?"

My sins were small but they piled up in droves throughout my life.

The woman seemed happy to ask about my punishment.

"Yes, I understand. No need to worry." I replied.

The punishment I would have to endure was being sent to become a random character in a novel I wrote and surviving to the "end".

According to the terms of the contract, if I could do that, I would be sent to heaven.

Plus, apparently a lot of people were sent straight to hell, so I was fine in comparison.

Her smile disappeared and the woman resumed her expressionless face.

"Since it's a work of your own, you should know everything about it and what would happen to it, right? In a way, it's hard to call that punishment."

She spoke in a nonchalant tone, eyeing me patiently.

"I assume you've already taken a look at them." I assumed. "But my survival will depend on which one I choose."

The Reaper stared into my eyes.

"Why?"

I knew she was asking already knowing the answer, but I didn't bother to answer it out loud.

"Uh… I've only written novels where dangerous worlds take place and many people die."

"Well, congratulations. Perhaps you can think of all of this as your punishment for neglecting life. From the records, it seems you didn't understand the preciousness of life."

It was strange to think that much of the blame for my being here was for deaths I'd described in fiction.

Honestly, if I had known that one day I would have to live in one of the worlds I created, I would have written something nicer as a setting.

It made no sense to me that I was being punished for things in my head.

Like, just because I wrote that I could run as fast as a train doesn't mean I could actually do it.

I was pretentious, I admit. That's why I wrote many stories about disastrous situations in which many people died.

And to add to that, I was kind of addicted to writing tragic endings to the point of being called a lunatic by readers.

It wasn't like I liked bad endings, I just wanted to have something unique in my works...

Maybe that was my real sin? Playing with people's emotions because I could?

Shit.

"Then proceed with your decision."

Ok, back to business.

Everything is fine, so calm down. You just need to choose.

So what were the novels I wrote and what were my available options?

I also have to think about what will happen to me depending on which world I choose.

One wrong move and I'll be dead painfully (once again).

[Four Steps of the King of Apocalypse]

A novel about monsters and zombies.

It didn't take much to let me know I was going to die in a week or less.

[Hero Survival Guide]

Ruined post-apocalyptic world.

If I was right, even some of the main characters were destined to die.

I didn't want to take any chances — I mean, I was already here in hell for dying crudely in a peaceful world, right?

"Hmm..." My eyes fell on the third option.

[Where is the Demon King?]

Of all my original works, this was the one with the worst ratings, but in my opinion, it was the best. It was my last hope too — why?

This novel was a fantasy story, half corrupted like the others, but initially a slice of life.

I had written this novel, which didn't have a severe global crisis like the others, because I was criticized by readers for always writing bad endings.

I didn't finish it, but the beginning was good, very refreshing and calm as a breeze.

I should take this one, it's the right thing to do.

"Where is the Demon King. This is the romance I choose."

I signed below, reminding myself of the plot.

The novel basically told the story of what happened in the world after the final boss was defeated in the prologue.

That's why its title was ''Where is the Demon King?''

It happened after the Demon King's supposed death, but there were still several dangers lurking.

At least it wasn't like the others, so I'd have a chance to get stronger and survive.

Finishing up signing the form, I felt an electrifying sensation run through my body.

The form burned with white flames, turning to dust and disappearing from view.

The ash dispersed into the air, forming a thick yellowish-gray mist.

Then the results of the character I would be appeared before my eyes, on a holographic screen.

[Candidate's personality has been analyzed

[Candidate's potential has been analyzed]

[The character was selected according to the results…]

As a result of that lottery, I would become the direct descendant of the Demon royal family.

The son of the demon king from that story where the King would be murdered.

"Ugh…"

Feeling a throbbing headache and seeing my vision blurring more and more by the second, I slumped uncontrollably onto the table.

The woman stared at me with a blank facial expression.

"....."

I had time to see one last message flashing in front of me, though.

[The journey begins now.]

[The system wishes you good luck and warns you never to forget who you really are.]

And then, everything went dark.