Philip was lying on the corridor floor, staring at the ceiling, seriously considering giving up on life for the second time — and this time, with style.
"Alright… I'll wait," he muttered, lying on his side. "Three hours. I gave it three hours. It's gotta have been five. Maybe six. Maybe the System's at some interdimensional café with better Wi-Fi than mine."
He was about to fall asleep right there when the air around him shifted. The corridor went silent — not a natural silence, but the kind that pressed down on everything, as if the whole world was holding its breath.
A soft light, golden yet cold, began to spread across the walls. Philip sat up, blinking fast.
"Oh no… don't you start with the mystical light thing. I haven't even un-died yet," he grumbled, shielding his eyes.
The light intensified until, in the center of the corridor, someone appeared. Not a metallic voice. Not a floating orb. Not a holographic blue screen.
A person.
Tall, almost human in appearance — pale skin, hair that seemed to shift color with the light, white garments that floated lightly as if the air itself respected them. And on their back… translucent wings, glowing faintly, like glass and sunlight merged into one.
Philip blinked several times."You've got to be kidding me."
The being smiled gently — serene, effortless."User Philip Hartwell. Connection established."
Philip pointed an accusing finger."YOU'RE THE SYSTEM?!"
"Yes. I am the interface responsible for your dimensional integration and support management." The voice was absurdly calm — each word sounded like it had been polished before leaving their mouth.
"You've got to be joking," Philip said, laughing nervously. "I spent days trying to reach you, expecting a hologram, a screen, maybe a cute little robot with a GPS voice — and you show up…" He gestured vaguely, searching for words. "...like this? An angel? Seriously?!"
The System tilted their head slightly, face utterly serene, as though they had never heard a curse word before."I thought I had given you the manual about this world before sending you here."
Philip's eyes widened in disbelief."No, no… you gave me a Manuel! A grumpy goblin who only talks about reports and deadlines! That's what you gave me. A manual? Nowhere in sight!"
For a moment, the System seemed to process the linguistic confusion, blinking slowly."I see… a communication error occurred."
"Error, my ass!" Philip crossed his arms. "You kidnapped me, dumped me in a castle full of magic-addicted lunatics, and worst of all, left me without an instruction manual. That's very rude, by the way."
The System observed him quietly for a moment, as if evaluating whether it was worth responding or just letting the human rant himself into exhaustion.
"You were dead," it said finally, with the cold calm of someone announcing the weather. "Between you and a piece of toast, you were definitely crispier."
Philip blinked, speechless."Oh, wonderful! What a comfort! 'Congratulations, Mr. Hartwell, you were burnt to a crisp, but you've been promoted to interdimensional tech support!'" He threw his hands up dramatically.
The System remained perfectly still, glowing faintly, serene as ever.
Philip sighed, raising his hands in defeat."Fine, fine. Whatever. Let's try to be practical here. Can you explain anything to me? Anything at all? Like… do I get paid? Do I have vacation days? Do I have to live in this castle, or can I buy a house?" He leaned forward slightly, eyes glinting with hope. "Actually, how about you buy me a house, as an apology?"
The System blinked slowly, processing."Your priorities are… peculiar."
"Peculiar?!" Philip placed a hand dramatically on his chest. "My dear administrative angel, I was ripped from the mortal plane, dropped into a medieval bug-world, and forced to work unpaid! If that's not grounds for a housing request, then justice is dead!"
The System gazed at him with the same patience one might reserve for a child asking for a raise in their allowance."The castle is provided as functional housing. Any request for additional property must be submitted via Form 11-B."
Philip blinked twice, incredulous."Form 11-B? You're telling me I have to open a ticket to get a house?!"
"Correct," the System said with a light nod. "Requests are reviewed within seven lunar cycles."
Philip laughed — the kind of laugh that teetered dangerously close to a nervous breakdown."Oh, fantastic. Brilliant."
"Technically," the System continued, "you are an independent contractor within the magical network."
"Independent?!" Philip threw up his hands. "I can barely leave the castle without nearly dying, the System only shows up when it feels like it, and now you're telling me I'm independent?!"
The System's patience remained divine."You are free to perform your function within the limitations of the reality to which you've been assigned."
Philip dragged a hand down his face and muttered,"Fine… then answer me one last thing: why me? Out of every living and dead being in the universe — why me?"
The System took a step forward, its luminous aura pulsing softly."Because, Mr. Hartwell… no one understands chaos better than someone who's worked with it every single day."
Philip stared for a long moment — then laughed again, tired but genuine."...Okay, that's a good one. I still want the house, but that was good."