In a dimly lit one-room apartnt, a young woman sat eating while watching a video on her laptop.
"Oh my God! She forgot to feed her baby again. How many tis has they died already? She’s totally screwed!" she said between laughs.
On her screen, a strear was attempting the infamous challenge from a popular life simulation ga.
The 100 Baby Challenge!
This wasn’t the first strear she’d watched try the challenge and it definitely wouldn’t be the last. She absolutely loved seeing a house that started with just one pawn slowly grow into chaos.
It was oddly satisfying to watch these strears panic as they juggled a house full of needy babies and mischievous toddlers.
"She should’ve made sure the kid grew up into a teen first. Then she could get pregnant again," the woman comnted, taking another bite of her al.
"If I played this ga, it wouldn’t be this bad," she added confidently.
But unfortunately, her real life didn’t give her much room for gaming. As an overworked office employee stuck with endless overti, the only free ti she had was during als. Which is why she always watched sothing while eating.
She popped a piece of fried chicken into her mouth, eyes fixed on the screen.
In the video, the strear was speaking. "The baby’s born! Ti to find the next baby daddy."
The woman froze.
Wait—what?!
The previous baby had just died, and the other kids were still sad and mourning. Yet the strear was already on the hunt for the next father?
Cough! Cough!
She choked, startled by the sheer absurdity of it all. She coughed hard, one hand thumping her chest, the other fumbling across the table for her water glass, only to rember she hadn’t gotten the water from dispenser yet.
Her face turned red as her vision blurred.
...
"Congratulations! You are the chosen one. You have been granted the chance to live again with your mories intact. You may choose to restart your life as a baby, a teenager, or even after college graduation! Take control of your life and make your dreams co true."
A mysterious voice echoed in her ears. It felt as if the voice was whispering directly into her soul, though she couldn’t tell where it ca from.
She realized she must’ve passed out and was now having so kind of bizarre dream. The way the voice spoke sounded exactly like a fantasy novel she’d once read.
A second chance at life? Yeah, right.
"You have died, Chosen One! And now, you stand at the crossroads between worlds."
She couldn’t help but laugh. Alright, fine. She’d play along with this weird dream.
"If I’m really the chosen one, you’re saying I can be reborn with my mories intact?" she asked.
She glanced around the so-called crossroads. All she could see was endless white stretching in every direction. When she looked down, there were no hands, no feet and no body. Just nothing. Maybe her soul was all that had crossed over.
"Of course! But there’s a catch. To return to life, you must complete a challenge from the Gods."
"Knew it. Nothing’s ever free. What’s the challenge?"
"You will only learn the challenge once you arrive in the world where it takes place."
"Hm. That’s shady. And if I refuse?"
"There is no punishnt, Chosen One. The Gods are rciful. If you decline, your soul will simply be sent to the River of Souls, where it will be cleansed and made ready to be reborn into a new body."
Classic. She rolled her eyes. The more she listened, the more convinced she beca this was all just her brain acting out a fantasy. Still, why not enjoy the dream while it lasted?
At least here, she could get a break from her toxic work environnt and a boss whose expectations reached the heavens.
"Alright," she finally said. "I’ll do it."
"A wise choice, Chosen One! Your soul shall now be sent to another world to complete the challenge. But rember! If you fail, your soul will remain trapped in that world... forever."
"Wait—trapped?!"
...
The walls were made of woven bamboo, their faded color giving the whole room a warm, earthy brown tone as if it had been painted with age itself.
The room was sparsely furnished. An old wooden wardrobe, a creaky desk with matching chairs weathered by ti, and a small bamboo nightstand sitting beside a simple wooden bed.
On that bed lay a sleeping teenage boy, completely unaware that the sun was already high above the horizon.
A woman in her mid-thirties entered the room, brushing past the curtain that separated it from the rest of the house. There was no real door.
"Gara, wake up. The village chief wants to see you," she said gently, shaking the boy’s shoulder.
Slowly, hazel eyes fluttered open.
His gaze drifted around the unfamiliar room—the bamboo ceiling, the faded walls—before landing on the woman’s concerned face.
Confusion washed over him.
His eyes widened, and he shot up suddenly, grabbing his head as a sharp pain jabbed through his skull like a thousand tiny needles.
"What’s wrong, Gara? Are you sick?" the woman asked, alard.
The pain subsided gradually, allowing Gara to sit up properly on the bed. His breathing slowed.
"Am I... still dreaming?" he muttered.
"You’re not dreaming, Gara. Wait here, I’ll get you so headache redy," the woman said and rushed out of the room.
Gara sat still, trying to process what was happening. Unfamiliar mories crept into his brain. The mories of the person called Gara.
If this was a dream, it was way too real.
He glanced at his hand. There was only one way to test it.
He pinched himself.
"Ow!"
So, not a dream.
His shoulders slumped in defeat.
Okay. He was dead. Then his soul was sent to so bizarre crossroads. And now he was here. In another world. For a challenge.
"The challenge!"
As if the thought had summoned it, a translucent blue window panel appeared in front of him, floating in the air like sothing straight out of a video ga.
[PROFILE STATUS]
Na: Gara
Age: 16
Charm: 10
Bloodline: None
Talent: None
Partners: 0
Children: 0
[CHALLENGE STATUS]
Challenge Na: 100 Baby
Objective: Have 100 biological children
Reward: Return to previous life with mories intact
Penalty: None
Gara blinked at the screen.
Maybe he was hallucinating. Or maybe his reading ability had taken a hit after transmigrating.
"100 Baby Challenge?" he read aloud, his voice a mixture of disbelief and dread.
"What is this, a ga?"
...
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