"It's over, Caspian. Don't contact me ever again."
The blonde woman slammed the modest ring onto the restaurant table.
A reservation that had cost Caspian a decent chunk of change.
"W–what?! Why?!"
Caspian stared at her, stunned.
She scoffed. "Why? Look at you. A loser who can't even afford a proper ring. At least James can actually provide for me."
She huffed, swung her new designer bag over her shoulder, and stormed out toward a sleek sports car waiting at the curb.
Caspian remained seated, eyes fixed on the ring lying lifelessly on the table.
"I worked multiple jobs for that…" he muttered. "And she just… threw it away like it meant nothing."
With a tired sigh, he paid the bill, pocketed the ring, and stepped out into the city.
_______
Neon lights flickered overhead.
Cars crawled through congested streets, spewing exhaust into the night as crowds shuffled through narrow alleyways, worn and exhausted.
Hands in his pockets, head lowered, Caspian walked aimlessly.
'How the hell does she expect me to buy designer crap when I can barely survive in this city?'
'Should I sell a kidney or something?'
'I'm working nonstop, barely sleeping, barely eating… and it's still not enough.'
People once thought the future would bring flying cars and interstellar councils.
Instead, it felt like everything had regressed.
That was why Caspian loved reading novels. They let him escape—into worlds where a person's worth was measured by power, not money.
"Might makes right," he muttered. "Now that sounds like my kind of world."
He stepped into the road.
Suddenly—
A truck barreled toward him.
"Oh come on," Caspian said flatly. "A truck? Really?"
Darkness swallowed him.
_______
Silence.
Then—nothing.
Caspian felt trapped. He tried to move, but there was no body to command. No lungs to draw breath. No mouth to scream.
'…Did I die?'
He couldn't see, but he could sense.
In the pitch-black void, he noticed a single point of light.
Himself.
A small, glowing white orb suspended in nothingness.
'Huh. So this is the afterlife?'
Another light appeared in the distance.
It grew rapidly—too rapidly—until it pulled him in like a black hole.
There was no resistance.
_________
Caspian arrived in a pure-white room.
A presence pressed down on him.
Not physical—conceptual.
A distorted voice echoed from everywhere at once.
"Hello, mortal soul. You will be granted three wishes. Choose carefully."
Caspian's thoughts raced.
'Three wishes? Yeah, right. What's the catch?'
'No one gives anything away for free. Especially not gods.'
"I'm not some lowly being trying to trick you out of your soul," the voice replied, irritation seeping through. "You have thirty seconds."
Caspian didn't hesitate.
He'd spent years fantasising about this exact scenario.
'First—if I'm going to a new world, I don't want to be human. I never understood why protagonists cling to that. Give me something better.'
'A dragon.'
"Granted."
'Second—make me a master of every weapon. No point surviving if I can't fight.'
"Granted."
The voice paused. "Your final wish."
Caspian hesitated.
His orb flickered faintly red.
'…A system.'
The silence stretched.
"A system?" the voice repeated flatly.
'Yes! Okay!? I said it!' Caspian rushed internally. 'They're broken. They're unfair. They're the strongest cheat there is. And it doesn't even need to be sentient—just something that helps me grow.'
Another pause.
Then a long, weary sigh.
"Fine. Granted."
The presence withdrew slightly.
"And this time," the voice added quietly, "live for yourself."
The white room shattered.
And Caspian was sent onward.