"Goodbye, kids. We'll meet tomorrow. Next time, I'll properly explain how machines are used in our daily lives… and this time, we'll actually build something too."
"Okay, sir!" Students responded loudly.
"Good," Arahan nodded, as he walked out of the college.
He was 30 years old and had already been teaching for five years at Astra Imperial Institute of Engineering (AIIE), California Campus, one of the top engineering institutes in the state.
Naturally, many teachers were jealous of him. While a few envied him. And many girls openly admired him.
Arahan enjoyed the envious and jealous gazes of others, but he always maintained his distance.
He was a simple, disciplined man.
He was an orphan. He didn't know who his parents were. During his school days, that became a weapon against him.
Many children would mock him, "Arahan, if you want to talk to me, go ask your mom first."
Another would laugh, "Oh wait… you don't even have one."
"Orphan! Orphan!"
In the beginning, it affected him. But later, he started ignoring them all and focused on his studies.
Through his hard work, he silenced them.
At just 25, he became a professor at Astra Imperial Institute of Engineering, earning about $2,500 per month.
With that came respect, status, and stability. Even his engagement had been arranged with the Dean's daughter.
In just a few days, it was his wedding.
Lost in these thoughts, Arahan started his Honda PCX. He did own a Toyota Camry, but he didn't believe in showing off.
Every day, he went to college and returned home on his Honda.
He drove forward slowly along the quiet agricultural road, humming to himself, "Life is a beautiful journey… who knows what tomorrow holds…"
But suddenly, a horn blared toward him.
PIPIPIPIPIPIIII—
Before Arahan could even process what was happening, a black Porsche 911 came speeding from the wrong side of the road, pushing past 120 mph.
BAM.
It happened in an instant. A violent impact tore through the quiet road, and Arahan's body was flung into the air before crashing heavily onto the asphalt. His Honda PCX spun out of control, sliding far into the distance. The world spun, then… silence.
Arahan lay there, unable to move, warm blood slowly spreading beneath him, soaking into the dark road like ink staining paper. His breathing grew shallow, his vision dimmed, and at that moment, he understood, death was approaching. A bitter smile formed on his lips.
""Why, God… why did this happen to me?"
"I never drank. I never lived recklessly. I never did anything wrong."
"I never even touched a girl. I… I never even had sex. I was still a virgin."
"My wedding was just days away… why did this happen to me, God? Why?!"
His voice trembled, filled with unwillingness and grief. With great effort, he turned his head, his fading eyes locking onto the culprit. The door of the black Porsche 911 opened slowly, and a young boy stepped out, his movements unsteady, the faint smell of alcohol lingering in the air, he was drunk.
Arahan stared at him, engraving that face deep into his mind, he saw the fear on his face.
Arahan knew, in this country, the law was strict, and drunk driving was a serious crime. There would be police, there would be consequences, perhaps even prison, but those things belonged to the future… and he no longer had a future.
Even if justice came, it would not bring him back. Even if the boy paid the price, Arahan would never see it.
His eyelids grew heavy, the sky above him blurring into darkness. His thoughts faded one by one, regret, anger, unwillingness, all of it slowly disappearing. In the end, only silence remained.
And then… darkness swallowed everything.
---
Arahan suddenly woke up, muttering, "What a terrible dream… In that dream, the messengers of death were dragging me to hell."
Just then, someone tapped him from behind.
He turned around, and froze seeing that figure.
A towering figure stood there, cloaked in black, its face hidden beneath a shadowed hood. Faint skeletal features could be seen beneath the darkness, and in its hand rested a long, curved scythe.
"W-What are you?!" Arahan shouted, his voice trembling.
The figure spoke, its voice deep and hollow, like an echo from the void.
"We are Reapers."
Arahan's heart shook.
"Where am I? Am I still dreaming?" he asked, his voice unsteady.
"No," another voice came from the front, calm yet cold. "You are no longer among the living. This is the passage between life and death."
Only then did Arahan realize he was sitting inside something like a carriage.
It moved without wheels touching the ground, drifting silently forward. The structure was ancient in design, yet its form was strange, half carriage, half something mechanical, as if it did not belong to any single era.
"You died not long ago," the Reaper behind him said. "A speeding Porsche 911 ended your life. If you wish, you may recall your final moments."
Hearing that, Arahan's expression twisted as panic surged through him.
"They killed me! They killed me!" he shouted instinctively, his voice filled with anger and fear.
But the Reapers did not respond. The carriage continued forward.
Soon, it passed through a massive gate.
On the other side, the ground burned with intense flames, as if the land itself had turned into fire. Massive iron cauldrons stood everywhere.
Around each cauldron stood terrifying demon-like beings. Inside every cauldron, a human was being boiled alive.
Seeing this, Arahan shouted, "Stop! Stop! Stop! Brake! Brake! Stop the vehicle!"
The carriage came to a halt.
Arahan pointed to one side.
There, he saw a man covered in heavy gold jewelry, clearly very rich.
But his hands and legs were tightly bound to a thick wooden beam, his body hanging helplessly as two demonic beings dragged the frame across the burning ground.
Behind him, another demon lashed him repeatedly with a whip, each strike echoing across the fiery land.
The man screamed in agony as sparks and flames rose around him.
On the other side, Arahan saw a man dressed in torn clothes, looking like a beggar. Yet he was being carried on a radiant platform of light, floating gently above the ground.
Four angelic beings guided the platform forward, while two graceful figures moved ahead of him like spirits of light.
Arahan frowned. "That man looks very rich… and the other looks like a beggar, poor and broken."
"Why is the rich man being tortured, while the poor one is being carried with honor? Why this injustice?"
The Reaper behind him replied, "He may have been rich, but he lived a sinful life. He never did good deeds. That is why he is being taken to Hell."
"And that beggar, though poor, helped others and earned great merit. That is why he is being taken to Heaven," the one guiding the carriage added.
"In our world, sins and good deeds are what matter, not money, not gold, not status."
Hearing this, Arahan burst into loud laughter. "Hahahahaha… When will people on Earth understand such a simple truth? They chase money like dogs chasing scraps. Let them come here… let them come… Hell must be ninety percent full."
---
The carriage began moving forward again.
But after a short distance, Arahan suddenly shouted, "Stop! Stop! Stop! Stop this thing!"
The vehicle halted abruptly.
In front of him, countless floating screens appeared in the air, glowing with a strange, cold light.
Arahan stared at them in confusion. "Why are there so many screens up there? Is this your world's multiplex?"
One of the Reapers replied calmly, "This is not a multiplex. It is the Judgment Array."
"Oh?"
"Every action a human commits, good or evil, is recorded and displayed here. If you wish, you may observe it yourself."
Arahan nodded slightly, then pointed toward several figures visible on the screens. "They look like they're in critical condition… as if they're fighting death. Who are they?"
"They are currently undergoing evaluation," the Reaper explained. "Their lives are being weighed."
On one of the screens, Arahan noticed two tall pillars, one glowing green, the other burning red.
"What are those pillars?"
"The green pillar represents virtue. The red pillar represents sin."
"If a person's virtue outweighs their sins and they still have the will to live," the first Reaper began.
The one guiding the carriage interrupted in a flat tone, "—then they may be granted a chance to return."
"And if their sins are greater, their fate is sealed."
Arahan lightly tapped the Reaper's side, as if testing something solid, and said with a faint smile, "Then show me mine too."
The Reaper let out a low chuckle. "Heh… your path has already been decided. Still, if you insist, Judgment Array, display this soul's record."
As the Reaper reached out and pressed Arahan's hand against one of the glowing screens, a violent surge erupted.
A sharp burst of energy exploded outward, as if lightning had struck from within the void.
The Reaper was thrown backward instantly.
At the same time, every floating screen flickered violently before going dark. The entire Judgment Array shut down.
Silence fell.
Arahan frowned. "What happened? Why did you get shocked?"
The Reaper's face had turned pale beneath the shadow of its hood. Even the one guiding the carriage was trembling now.
Both of them stared at Arahan… as if looking at something they should not have encountered.
The driver muttered under his breath, his voice low and shaken, "This… this looks like a serious error."
Just then, a massive bell rang.
DONGGGGG
The sound echoed across the entire realm, deep and ancient, as if it came from the very foundation of existence.
Arahan frowned, "Why is that bell ringing?"
The one guiding the carriage replied calmly as it began moving forward again, "We have arrived… in the Underworld."
Soon, the scene before Arahan changed.
What appeared before him was a vast domain stretched out like a dark empire ruled by absolute authority.
Tall, shadowy beings stood in silent rows. The air itself felt heavy, as if even time moved more slowly here.
At the center rose a grand staircase, black as obsidian, leading upward.
At the top, a magnificent throne stood. A crowned figure, radiating a terrifying, oppressive presence seated upon it.
"Glory to the Lord of the Underworld! Glory to the Lord!" the Reapers intoned in unison, their voices echoing through the hall.
The figure shifted slightly on his throne, his gaze sweeping across the domain with quiet dominance.
A faint smirk appeared on his lips.
"Hah… another soul has arrived."
Then his eyes moved toward the figure standing beside the throne.
"Record Keeper."
A tall, composed entity stepped forward, holding a massive book that seemed to contain endless pages.
"Yes, my Lord," he replied respectfully.
"You've had your leisure long enough," the ruler said calmly. "It's time to work."