Chapter 1 (1/2): Lord God… Is Absent?

The rhythmic sound of machinery echoed through the silent hospital room.

Xia Yin stared with open eyes at the pale ceiling overhead.

A breathing mask covered her face, fog rising and dissipating in bursts.

She had long since lost track of how long she’d been wearing it. She was even starting to forget how she used to breathe naturally.

‘…This is so uncomfortable.’

‘Is this it… for the rest of my life?’

By her bedside were paintings she had once made and a book she had been halfway through reading. The corners of the drawing paper had curled slightly from being left untouched for so long, and the pages of the book had taken on an aged tint. They just sat there, quietly.

She had once thought about a lot of things. She had once believed she had a future.

But for her now, something like a future was nothing more than a luxury.

She thought back to her childhood.

She remembered the gazes that fell on her—some curious, some disdainful, but mostly indifferent.

She was frail. Running a little too fast would leave her breathless. She always stood at the very end of the line in PE class. Even the teacher’s concern carried a hint of helpless resignation.

So, gradually, she learned to keep her head down. She learned to make herself small. That was the only way to receive a little less scolding…

School, for her, was not a good place.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t tried speaking up. She told her parents she couldn’t take it anymore. She told them about those stares, those whispers, the suffocating pressure that grew heavier day by day.

But her parents were silent, or they responded with a helpless, pragmatic tone: mental health issues couldn’t be a reason to take a leave of absence from school. Her records couldn’t have a blemish. At least… at least she should finish her schooling.

She didn’t hate them… truly.

Because she knew it wasn’t malice. It was just the usual helplessness and compromise of East Asian adults when faced with the world.

Her parents just hoped her grades would look a little better. They hoped she wouldn’t be turned away by companies later because of some record.

But understanding didn’t lessen the pain.

So she continued to endure. Time and time again.

Clutching the hem of her clothes, she endured others laughing at how sickly she looked, laughing at how running two steps made her look like she was dying. She even seriously believed that if she just got through it, everything would be fine.

Get through high school, go to university, and everything would get better. People would mature. Teachers would be more lenient.

—Until that day.

“With your body like that, were your parents related or something?”

That malicious remark was something she couldn’t bear.

She had hardly ever fought back in her life, but that one time, she did.

She lunged with anger, but her body was too weak. That petty scuffle was nothing but a game to them.

In the shoving, someone threw her hard from the window. She didn’t die instantly. A railing pierced her kidney and lodged into her lower spine.

She didn’t die from the fall. She survived. But she was paralyzed from the waist down.

From then on, she lay there every day. Through the window, she watched birds glide across the sky. She watched children in the park still running, playing, tumbling, and getting up laughing.

‘My life… what a failure it was.’

She tried to force a self-deprecating smile, but couldn’t muster the strength even for that.

She could clearly feel her body deteriorating day by day. At first, she could still eat a little. Then she couldn’t eat anything.

Later, she could only breathe with the help of a ventilator.

In her final moment, her thoughts weren’t of those who had hurt her, nor of the wishes she never fulfilled. They were of her parents.

‘I wish… I could eat dumplings one more time…’

Her vision began to blur.

‘I wish… I could go out and play one more time…’

Suddenly, light appeared before her eyes.

It wasn’t glaring. Instead, it carried a gentle, warm amber hue. She saw herself as a child, sitting in a stroller, her parents making her laugh with a rattle. She saw the surging waves of the sea. She saw herself being held by her parents, one on each side, walking on a beach warmed by the sun. She saw her mother turn back and smile at her. She saw her father reach out his hand and say,

“Let’s go home, Xiao Xia.”

Slowly, she reached out her own hand.

But halfway up, her strength gave out. Her hand gently fell.

The world began to recede.

She vaguely heard someone calling her name. Heard hurried footsteps. Heard the sudden, sharp, continuous alarm of the machines. It felt like electric currents were passing through her body. Once. Twice.

But those sounds and her consciousness were sinking, like falling into a deep sea.

‘…Is it over?’

She thought this, and then fell into darkness.

***

When she opened her eyes again, Xia Yin thought she was still dreaming.

What met her eyes was not a hospital ceiling, but a vast, near-derelict, enormous library.

Spiderwebs hung from the high ceilings. Row upon row of towering bookshelves stood silently in the dim light, their spines mottled, some already cracked. The air was thick with the unique smell of old paper. She stared for a long time before subconsciously looking down at herself.

She realized she was still wearing her hospital gown. Then she realized she could also feel her legs.

Cautiously, she stood up from the floor. The moment the soles of her feet touched the marble floor, a cold sensation traveled up from her heels. It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t an illusion.

She could stand.

She could even walk forward.

‘I’m… alive?’

‘No, logically, I should be dead by now.’

The library was unnaturally quiet. Only the sound of her footsteps echoed.

Xia Yin slowly walked past the bookshelves, noticing the contents of the books were a chaotic mess. There were books in Chinese, in English.

Biographies, historical records, astronomical atlases, even what looked like a world record almanac. They were all piled together in the same place.

‘Is every corner recording different things…?’

She couldn’t help muttering to herself.

‘The afterlife is still doing data archiving? That’s a bit too dedicated…’

Following the end of the bookshelves, she saw an abnormally large door.

The door seemed to be made of some kind of gilded metal, solemn with a touch of holiness, its surface carved with intricate patterns. But as holy as it looked, it was covered in a ridiculous amount of dust!

The door frame was also mostly occupied by cobwebs on both sides, as if it had been abandoned for many years.

The plaque above the door bore a few characters—

“Reincarnation Chamber.”

Xia Yin stared at those words for a long time before finally accepting reality.

‘…So it really is a reincarnation process.’

‘Whoa… what a cliché isekai scene. Next, a god should appear and ask me what kind of other world I want… and then give me a beginner’s pack and a manual for my cheats…’

She finished speaking, but the surroundings remained as silent as a graveyard.

Not a single god appeared. Even the echo couldn’t be bothered to respond.

‘…?’

She moved closer and noticed that even the lock was so dusty it looked white. Right next to the door, a set of keys hung casually on a copper hook. Each one was dusty, as if they had been waiting there for centuries.

‘Could these be for me…?’

She took down the keyring and tried the keys one by one on the lock.

The first one. Didn’t work.

The second one. Didn’t work.

The third one. Still didn’t work.

The most absurd part was that almost every key could fit into the keyhole, but not a single one could turn. By the end, Xia Yin felt a vein bulging on her forehead.

‘Seriously… is this lock broken, or was the person who designed it an idiot…!’

She took a deep breath and tried the last key. Still no reaction.

Then, she was silent for two seconds. With a ‘what’s the worst that could happen’ attitude, she reached out and pushed the door.

—The door opened.

‘…’

‘It wasn’t locked?’

She froze in place, still holding the door.

‘So it wasn’t locked at all?!’

At that moment, Xia Yin felt like this reincarnation hall was specifically designed to torment her.

But the door had already swung open slowly.

So she braced herself and walked inside.

The scene inside was completely different from the shabby library outside.

It was a vast, luxurious main hall. Dozens of ribbons made of special silk hung from the dome, inscribed with characters Xia Yin had never seen. These characters seemed to have a life of their own, flowing slowly over the fabric.

Golden beams of light streamed in from the huge stained-glass windows on either side, falling onto the white stone tiles. The dome above was painted with an entire galaxy, orbits encircling each other, constellations interlocking like some kind of astral chart.

The most jarring thing, though, was that the throne was still empty. There was no one around.

‘The god… really did go AWOL…?’

Xia Yin muttered under her breath.

She walked to the window and looked out. In the distance stood a tall tower, but it was already in ruins. The top looked scorched and cracked, as if struck by lightning or fire. The walls had several large, deep craters, as if they had been smashed through by a meteor or similar object. The internal spiral staircase and rooms were exposed, looking especially tragic.

When she looked away, she noticed a crystal ball in the center of the hall glowing faintly.

The crystal ball sat on a silver-white stand, starlight flowing across its surface. As Xia Yin drew closer, she could see strange scenes reflected inside: forests, snowy plains, ancient cities, oceans, floating archipelagos, and even the fleeting silhouette of a knight and a dragon.

‘Let me try calling out one more time…’

“Your Holiness…!”

She mustered all her strength and shouted into the empty hall.

“I want to be reincarnated!!”

Unsurprisingly, there was no response.

‘…They really did bail.’

Xia Yin sighed and gently reached out to touch the crystal ball.

The next moment, the light inside the crystal ball blazed brightly.

Countless tiny runes appeared and dissipated across its surface, finally settling on a name she had never heard before.

“Karasel.”

“Karasel?”

She blinked.

She had never heard this name before. Not from a novel she had read, not from a game she had played, not from a manga she had seen.

But from the scenes the crystal ball showed, it was clearly a classic sword-and-sorcery world.

Tall city walls, armored knights, particles of light floating in the air, forests lit by moonlight, and a silver lake in the distance.

It was beautiful. It looked like the beginning of a story.

Xia Yin subconsciously clenched her fingers. A long-forgotten sense of anticipation welled up in her chest. She had gotten almost nothing in her life. At least in a story, a reincarnator should have a little special treatment, right?

“I have no idea what it is, but it looks pretty good…”

She said softly.

“At least… at least let me have a healthy body. And maybe a few abilities. Like a system, a blessing, a hidden class, a rare talent… it’s not like they’d give me nothing, right?”

But in the next instant, the light from the crystal ball suddenly flared out of control, dyeing the entire hall a blinding white.

“Wait…!”

Before she could finish, she was swallowed by the light.

There was no pain.

Instead, it felt like being gently wrapped by a warm ocean tide.

Her consciousness floated in the light, not knowing how long passed. When she regained clarity, the first things she felt were soft fabric, warm air, and an unfamiliar milky scent.

She opened her eyes.

What met her gaze was the canopy hanging over the crib.

“Waaa—waaah!”

Before she could even be shocked, her body had already started crying.

Infant instincts were terrifyingly irrational.

A newborn who didn’t yet have a new name cried while her mind raced frantically.

‘Can I move my legs?’

‘Is my body normal?’

‘Am I not going to be sickly again in this life like the last one?’

Hurried footsteps sounded from outside the door. Soon, the door was pushed open.

The first person to come into her view was a tall man. White hair, chiseled features. He was clearly a warrior, with a calm and sharp demeanor developed from years of wielding a sword and patrolling. Next came a young woman with blonde hair and blue eyes. Her face was gentle, her eyes bright. Her clothes were simple but carried an aura of neat efficiency.

Barring any surprises, these should be her parents for this life.

The man bent down, looking at her unusual hair color, and said something in a low voice. She couldn’t understand the language of this world yet. She only felt the unfamiliar syllables were soft. She learned later that her father, pointing at her white and tangerine-streaked hair, had said with a smile:

“Like the color of an autumn day where daylight and dusk blend… let’s call her Qiu Meng.”

And so, she had a new name.

Qiu Meng.