Error correction version 2.0
Chapter 2
Written by Bayzo Albion
A faint chime echoed in my head. The interface flickered, stabilizing before my eyes.
> [SYSTEM:]
> Please enter your name.
"My real one, or can I make something up?" I asked, staring at the glowing prompt.
"Whatever you like," she said with a shrug, her voice laced with amusement. "The choice is yours. Here, everything depends on your will."
Without hesitation, I typed, my fingers tapping the invisible keyboard in the air.
*Cuddly Boogeyman.*
I smirked. "From now on, call me the Cuddly Boogeyman. Why not? In a place like this, a name should be as ridiculous as the situation."
The priestess raised an eyebrow. There was no judgment in her gaze, only a flicker of genuine amusement.
"Boogeyman… welcome to the subatomic realm. Here, there are no chains, no laws, and no obligations binding you. Do as you will. Indulge yourself. Live without consequences."
"Seriously?" I swallowed hard, half-expecting a catch to emerge from the shadows. "No strings attached? No fine print?"
She tilted her head, her voice dropping to a quiet, intimate register. "None. Only… be careful with what you wish for. Sometimes desires manifest too literally, exposing truths hidden deep in your subconscious."
She stepped back, gesturing to the endless expanse around us. "In this place, nothing is poisonous. Nothing is destructive. Words like *wrong*, *sinful*, or *dangerous* have no meaning here. There is no negative energy to give them shape. Shadows cannot exist in perfect light."
A cold, exhilarating shiver traced my spine as the implications sank in. Freedom without rules, without sin, without rot. The promise was intoxicating. Yet, beneath her calm warning, I caught a faint, dangerous whisper—a hint that absolute liberty might carry its own unique perils.
"And the catch?" I narrowed my eyes. Suspicion prickled under my skin. "Where's the trick? There's always a price. Even for paradise, there must be a hidden cost."
She gave me the patient smile of someone who had heard the same doubt a thousand times.
"Imagine you want to do harm—to strike, to deceive, or to destroy. In this realm, your actions pass through a filter. On the other side, they emerge as good. A blow becomes a healing touch. A lie becomes a raw, honest confession. Destruction turns to creation. It isn't karma or moral policing; there is simply no medium here for evil to take root. It's as pointless as shouting in a vacuum."
"So... evil doesn't exist at all?" I asked slowly, trying to digest the concept. "Because there's no foundation for darkness?"
"Exactly." She nodded. "This world isn't built on the struggle of opposites, but on absolute harmony. Everything here vibrates at a frequency of goodwill. Even chaos is just order dancing to a different rhythm."
"But if everything becomes good," I pressed, curiosity mixing with my lingering doubt, "what about the taboo? The dark desires people bury deep—do they transform too?"
"What you call 'immoral' simply loses its shape," she explained, her voice steady. "There is no soil here for guilt or harm to grow. Cleansed of shame, desire emerges as pure expression. Everything born of passion becomes light. And everything born of fear… dissolves like smoke."
"That's… unsettling." I shook my head, a cocktail of awe and doubt swirling inside me. "Look, I'm in the afterlife, right? So where is God in all this? The divine overseer pulling the strings?"
The question slipped out before I could stop it, hanging heavy between us.
"Here, they say God is not a being or a judge sitting on a throne," she said softly. "God is happiness itself—the state where you no longer fight with yourself, where inner conflicts dissolve. If you are at peace, you are already embodying the divine."
I frowned, rubbing my temples. "Sounds poetic… but I don't get a damn thing. It's like trying to grab mist with bare hands."
She laughed—bright and genuine, the sound bubbling up like a clear stream in a hidden glade.
"That's all right. Paradise isn't a place where you must understand everything with rigid logic. It's a place where you let intuition guide you."
I opened my mouth to argue, but the words died on my tongue. For the first time in ages, my chest was quiet. Really, blessedly quiet, free from the constant clamor of anxiety that had plagued my living days. A profound stillness settled over me, like the calm after a long-fought battle.
"Your voice," I said at last, my gaze locking onto hers. "It's a true delight. A melody that actually manages to soothe the frayed edges of my spirit."
"How wonderful to hear," the priestess replied, her voice dropping to a softer, more intimate register. She tilted her head, regarding me with a playful, heavy spark in her eyes, a glint that sent a sudden wave of heat through my reformed body. Her posture shifted with deliberate, mesmerizing grace, drawing my attention to the soft curve of her throat and the elegant, uninhibited warmth radiating from her entire form. Beauty here wasn't passive; it was a physical force, pulling me in like gravity.
"Would you like… a little milk?" she asked, her lips parting slightly. "A taste of the sustenance this realm offers, fresh and invigorating?"
My breath hitched. I tried to keep a straight face amid the intoxicatingly surreal offer, but my eyes betrayed me, tracing the deep, inviting lines of her neckline. "No, thank you," I managed to rasp. "I've still got a few shreds of shame left to lose in this place."
She gave a low, knowing hum that vibrated straight through my nerves. With fluid ease, she slipped her hand into the opening of her snow-white robe, her fingers brushing against her skin with agonizing slowness. When she drew her hand back out, she was holding a small, frosted glass bottle that had been nestled deep against her warmth. The glass caught the light in prismatic sparks, and inside sloshed something pale, glowing, and utterly irresistible.
"If you're too shy to take it fresh," she murmured, a teasing smile playing on her lips as she held out the vessel with both hands, stepping close enough for me to catch the rich, sweet scent of jasmine rising from her skin. "I can offer you the preserved variety."
"Uh… thank you," I muttered.
As I took the bottle, my fingers brushed against hers. The contact was electric, a jolt of pure sensation that made my hand tremble slightly. The glass itself was intensely warm, retaining the heat of her body.
Without giving myself time to overthink, I popped the cap and downed it in one go.
The taste didn't just hit my tongue—it struck my soul. It was a symphony of sensations: creamy, velvet-smooth, and radiating a sudden fit of pure, dizzying euphoria. It felt like spending a lifetime drinking from muddy puddles, only to suddenly taste rain straight from the heavens, washing away every trace of residual weariness.
I let out a low groan, my entire body relaxing into a state of blissful surrender. Every muscle unwound like a coiled spring finally released, leaving me completely vulnerable under her heavy, watchful gaze. "This… is it some kind of milk cola? No, it's something else entirely. Nectar of the gods, maybe?"