Error correction version 2.0
Chapter 3
Written by Bayzo Albion
The liquid was smooth, sliding down my throat and spreading a soothing warmth through my chest like calm after chaos.
The priestess watched me with a knowing smile, the way one might watch a child tasting honey for the first time. Her expression held a gentle fondness, as if she had guided countless souls through this exact moment.
"The first sip is always unforgettablea gateway to the pleasures this realm holds," she said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "But don't worry. In this world, everything can be reset, refreshed like the dawn of a new day. You can experience it again, rediscovering the joy as if it were the first time. Here, boredom is forbidden on the level of physics itself, woven into the fabric of reality."
I had no answer. I just sat there, clutching the empty glass. Its surface was still warm from her touch, a tangible reminder of the transformation unfolding within me.
I turned the bottle in my hands, letting the last pearly drop glisten in the light. For a moment, I wanted to believe herthat here, nothing could sour, that even chaos was only another rhythm of harmony. The allure was undeniable, a siren song promising unending delight.
But I knew better, deep in my skeptical heart. Any world that promises perfection is hiding something. If there are no consequences, choices lose their weight, becoming mere whims. If every wish turns to good, how do you even know what good is? Without shadow, light loses its brilliance.
The priestess smiled as if the matter were settled, her demeanor radiating unshakable confidence. I smiled backbut only with my lips. Inwardly, I held onto a truth I'd learned the hard way during my mortal life: if everything looks flawless, it only means the cracks are buried deeper.
Before me, the translucent interface pulsed gently, as if breathing in rhythm with my own heartbeat. It wasn't cold or mechanical; it felt responsive, an extension of my will waiting to be shaped.
The glowing text expanded, revealing a structured menu:
> [USER PROFILE]
> Username: Cuddly Boogeyman
> [AVAILABLE OPTIONS]
> 1. Create Your Own World
> 2. Guest Mode
> 3. Shared World
> 4. Creative Mode
> 5. Save / Preserve Original Identity
> 6. Scale of Virgin Feelings and Sensations: 0.001%
> 7. Delete Unnecessary Memories
> 8. Storyline: [DISABLED]
> 9. Other Settings
> 10. Difficulty Level (Auto): [TOO EASY]
> 11. Taboos / Filters
> 12. [EMPTY SLOT]
>
The options hung there, a menu of infinite choices. I stared at the translucent screen, my mind racing through the implications.
"What does the Storyline even affect?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. "And why would I need it?"
"If you simply wish to rest and enjoy peace," the priestess replied gently, "then the storyline is unnecessary. It activates only for those who seek adventure, tension, and surprises. It is for souls who crave the thrill of the unknownthe highs and lows that make existence feel alive."
"So homebodies like me can do without it?" I chuckled, feeling a sense of genuine relief. "By the waydo you people even have internet here? Or is this paradise strictly analog?"
The priestess smiled, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Of course. Any internet you desire is availablelocal, parallel, even from other dimensions. Want news from a world of dragons? Granted. Streams from a post–apocalyptic future? Easily done. Everything adapts to your taste."
"Wow. Can you even pick the year?" I blurted out, my imagination igniting. "All right thenlet's go with 2012. I'll start by surfing the classic internet, back when things were simpler and less cluttered with algorithms."
A new line materialized on the screen with a soft chime:
> 12. Classic Internet / January 1, 2012
> 13. [EMPTY SLOT]
The system molded itself to my thoughts without resistance. I looked at the new option, then glanced back at the disabled Storyline.
A sudden, uncomfortable thought pierced through my relief. Endless peace sounded perfect right now, when the exhaustion of my past life was still fresh. But what about a thousand years from now? Ten thousand? Infinite surfing through a dead internet would eventually become its own prison. If boredom was forbidden here by the laws of physics, maybe I needed a safety valve.
"Well then," I muttered, taking a deep breath. "Time to switch on the storyline."
I tapped the option.
> [SYSTEM:]
> Are you sure you want to activate Storyline Mode?
> Warning: Once enabled, you must choose a difficulty level:
> Easy
> Balanced
> Medium
> High
> Hardcore
I hesitated, my finger hovering over the screen. I wanted a challenge to keep from losing my mind, but I had no desire to drown in chaos or relive the relentless struggles of my mortal life. What if 'Hardcore' meant eternal torment disguised as adventure? What if 'Easy' stripped away all stakes, leaving me in a bland, unfeeling vacuum?
"Medium difficulty," I said firmly, committing before doubt could erode my resolve.
> [SYSTEM:]
> Medium difficulty confirmed.
> You may change the difficulty level later in Section 9: Other Settings.
> Good luck with your life.
The words pulsed once, then faded. I stared into the soft glow of the interface, half–thrilled, half–uneasy. If paradise needed a difficulty setting, then maybe it wasn't paradise at all. Maybe it was just another game with stakes I couldn't yet comprehend.
I lingered for a moment, then lifted my gaze to her, seeking an anchor in her serene presence.
"By the way… who are you, exactly?" I asked. "Beyond being a guidewhat's your actual role in this cosmic setup?"
"I am the ferryman of souls," she answered, a faint, enigmatic smile touching her lips. "A Charon of sorts, but with a gentler touch. I am here to ease your passage rather than demand a toll."
"And what if I'd lived a sinful life back on Earth?" I pressed. "Would that change how this place treats me?"
Her eyes softened with a flicker of compassion, though her tone held a quiet steel. "It's better if some things you never learn at all."
That should have comforted me, but it didn't. It sounded less like mercy and more like a warning. She was keeping something behind her calm facadea veil of secrets that hinted at darker layers to this afterlife, at judgments that lingered just out of sight.
I tightened my grip on the glowing edge of the interface. Beneath all this beauty and harmony, there were rules she wasn't telling me about. Rules with teeth, ready to bite if I strayed too far. Even in death, blind trust was a luxury I couldn't afford.
The priestess let me sit with my doubts, neither defending nor explaining further. She looked at me for a long moment, letting the silence stretch between us, then nodded gently.
"I'll give you time to think," she said, her voice dropping to a calm, almost kind whisper.
Then she stepped back, dissolving into the quiet of the void, leaving me alone with the screen.