Floating in gray nothing felt surprisingly comfortable. No gravity. No heartbeat. No lingering ache from cracked skull or bruised dignity. Just… suspension. Like being paused mid-frame in the world's most embarrassing loading screen.
Jake tried to move. Arms floated uselessly. Legs kicked at phantom air. Nothing responded the way it should. He was naked—properly, cosmically naked—and the realization hit harder than the coffee table ever had.
"Okay," he said aloud, voice echoing weirdly in the void. "This is either the afterlife or the world's longest bad trip. Either way, I demand a manager."
A low, melodic chuckle rolled through the emptiness.
"Demanding already? You really are a natural-born protagonist."
The gray parted like theater curtains. Light bloomed—soft gold and violet—and there she was again. Lustara. Lounging sideways on her cloud throne like it was a chaise longue at a luxury spa. One leg dangled lazily over the armrest, the translucent fabric of her robes shifting just enough to remind him physics didn't apply here. Her platinum hair spilled in slow-motion waves, catching nonexistent wind. Golden eyes glittered with pure, unfiltered amusement.
She held up one manicured hand. Between thumb and forefinger floated a perfect miniature holographic replay of his final moments: the desperate yank, the cartoonish stumble, the wet crack against glass. The Milkmaster 3000 sat frozen on the bed in the background, red battery icon pulsing like a judgmental heartbeat.
"Exhibit A," she said, zooming in on his panicked face. "The expression. Priceless. You look like a man who just realized his safe word was 'continue.'"
Jake's face burned despite having no blood to blush with. "Can you… not?"
"Oh, but I must. This is premium content." She flicked her wrist. The hologram spun, showing the fall from three angles. "Slow-mo really captures the tragedy. Look at that pizza crust rolling away like it's embarrassed to be associated with you."
"Delete it. Please."
"Nope. Archival purposes." She dismissed the projection with a casual wave. It shattered into golden sparks that drifted toward him and reformed into tiny mocking emojis: crying faces, eggplants, skulls. "Anyway. Welcome to Limbo Lite™. No judgment. Just me, you, and the rest of eternity to discuss your… lifestyle choices."
Jake crossed his arms over his chest. It didn't help the nakedness. "So I'm really dead."
"Very. Cardiac arrhythmia brought on by extreme dehydration, overexertion, and—my personal favorite—terminal horniness. Medical term is 'gooner's remorse syndrome.' Very rare. Mostly affects men who think edging for eight hours straight is cardio."
He groaned. "I was close, okay? Like, really close."
"To climax or cardiac arrest? Because you nailed one of them."
She snapped her fingers. A ghostly recliner materialized beneath him. He sank into it gratefully, even if it felt more like warm mist than actual upholstery.
"Look," he said, trying for dignity. "If this is judgment day, just send me wherever. Hell's fine. At least they probably have decent Wi-Fi."
Lustara tilted her head. "Hell would be boring for you. Too much fire, not enough screens. No. I have something better."
She leaned forward. The throne drifted closer until their knees almost touched. Up close, she smelled like ozone and expensive perfume and something dangerously sweet.
"You're going to my world," she said. "Full isekai package. Reincarnation, cheat skills, the works. You'll wake up in a fantasy realm called Aetheria. Magic. Monsters. Kingdoms. Hot springs. The usual."
Jake blinked. "Wait. For real?"
"For real."
"Like… Truck-kun level?"
"Goddess-kun level. Much classier." She grinned. "You'll have status. Levels. Skills. Inventory. The whole JRPG wet dream."
His pulse—if he still had one—quickened. "And… women?"
"Oh yes." Her voice dropped to a velvet purr. "Lots of women. Elves. Beastkin. Succubi. Queens. Adventurer girls who'll swoon the second they smell you. I'm giving you the ultimate passive skill: Charm Aura. Radius fifty feet. Women within range will feel an irresistible pull. Heart palpitations. Flushed cheeks. Sudden urge to undress and offer themselves. You'll be drowning in affection. Worship. Thirst."
Jake's mouth went dry. "Holy shit."
"But."
There it was. The word hung between them like a guillotine.
"There's always a but," he muttered.
Lustara's smile turned razor-sharp. "Your Virility stat? Locked. Permanently. At zero. You can get hard. You can feel everything. Pleasure will build and build and build… and then nothing. No release. No climax. No finish line. Ever. Not with them. Not by yourself. Not with magic. Not with toys. Not with anything."
He stared at her.
She stared back.
Then he laughed. Short. Bitter. Hysterical.
"You're fucking with me."
"Nope." She held up two fingers. "Scout's honor. Goddess's honor. Same difference."
"Why?"
"Because," she said softly, "you spent twenty-eight years treating desire like a video game you could pause and grind forever. Never finishing. Never committing. Never connecting. Just… edging toward nothing. So now you get to live it. Literally."
Jake's hands clenched into fists. "That's cruel."
"It's educational."
"I'll die again. Heart attack. Blue balls induced aneurysm."
"Probably not. I gave you Infinite Stamina everywhere else. You'll run marathons. Fight dragons. Fuck around and find out—without the fucking part. You'll be fine. Physically."
"Psychologically?"
"That's the growth arc." She winked.
He rubbed his temples. "There's gotta be a way out. A quest. A McGuffin. Something."
Lustara leaned back, considering. "There is. One path to reversal. Save the world from the encroaching Demon Lord's return. Prove you're capable of real heroism. Real connection. Real sacrifice. Do that, and I'll personally unlock your little… problem. No tricks. Pinky swear."
She extended a glowing pinky.
Jake stared at it like it might bite.
"You're serious."
"As a heart attack. Which you already had."
He hesitated. Then hooked his pinky around hers. A spark jumped between them—warm, electric, promising.
"Deal," he said.
"Excellent." Lustara clapped once. The recliner vanished. He floated again. "Time to drop you in. Any last requests?"
"Yeah. Clothes. Maybe a weapon. A tutorial. Something."
She laughed. "You'll figure it out. That's half the fun."
"Wait—!"
Too late.
The void folded like origami. Colors rushed in—emerald greens, sapphire skies, golden sunlight. Wind roared past his ears. He tumbled, naked and screaming, through layers of reality until—
Thump.
He hit soft earth. Ferns cushioned the fall. Sunlight dappled through towering canopy. Birds sang. A distant waterfall chuckled.
Jake lay on his back, staring at an impossibly blue sky.
"Okay," he wheezed. "Fantasy world. Check. Naked. Check. Curse. Check."
He sat up slowly. Looked down.
Still nothing happening. Not even a twitch.
"Fuck my life."
Somewhere far above—in a place only goddesses could reach—Lustara's laughter echoed one last time.
"Welcome to Aetheria, Jax. Try not to die again too soon. The show's just getting started."
He closed his eyes. Took a deep breath of clean, pine-scented air.
Then he stood.
Naked. Cursed. Irresistible.
And completely, hilariously screwed.