"Welcome to the afterlife, man."
Chris stared blankly at the man in front of him.
Honestly, he wasn't even that surprised.
He blinked a few times, looked around the room, then nodded like someone who just got told they'd missed a dentist appointment.
The room looked… normal.
Weirdly normal.
There were desks, fluorescent lights, a coffee machine that looked like it had seen better decades, and an awkwardly placed motivational poster that read: "You Can't Spell 'Reincarnation' Without 'Can!'"
Somehow, that was the most unsettling part.
Chris sat in a comfy leather chair across from the man who'd greeted him.
The man looked like a mythological Greek god who had gotten a part-time job in accounting.
Long flowing silver hair, sharp blue eyes, a face that screamed "I'm in charge of fate" — and he was wearing a charcoal-gray office suit with a lanyard that read "DIVINE DEPARTMENT OF REASSIGNMENT."
Chris tilted his head. "So… this is real?"
"Yep," the man said, leaning back and lacing his fingers behind his head. "Dead as a doorknob, buddy."
Chris blinked again. "Huh. That's not how I thought this would feel."
The god — or whatever this guy was — grinned. "That's because in the afterlife, you're kept in a constant state of calm. No panic, no existential dread, no 'oh my god, I forgot to delete my search history.' Just peace."
"Huh," Chris said. "That explains why I'm not currently screaming into the void."
He wasn't.
In fact, he felt like he'd just gotten out of a really good massage.
Or maybe one of those naps where you wake up not knowing what century it is.
With a casual wave of his hand, the god conjured a cup of tea out of thin air.
It floated down gently and landed on the desk in front of Chris.
Steam rose lazily from the surface.
"Tea?" the man offered.
Chris picked it up and sniffed.
Peach. Jasmine. A little hint of cinnamon.
"This isn't going to make me see my regrets in reverse chronological order, is it?"
"Not unless your regrets involve drinking good tea."
Chris took a sip and sighed. "Okay, fine. I'll bite. How did I die?"
The man's face twitched. "You sure you wanna know?"
Chris nodded. "I mean, if I'm dead, I might as well get the director's cut."
The man pulled out a manila folder labeled "CHRIS – VERY EMBARRASSING" in bold red letters.
He opened it with a sigh.
"Well… You tripped over your VR headset cord while doing a 'romantic proposal' gesture in Love Hunt 3000. You hit your head on the desk, knocked over your ramen, which somehow caught fire — don't ask me how — and triggered the smoke alarm. Then, while trying to crawl to safety, you slipped on your own spilled tea and slammed face-first into the floor."
Chris opened his mouth, closed it, then tried again. "…Okay, that is a lot."
"It gets better," the man said. "You were wearing your limited-edition bunny slippers at the time."
"…That's not that bad."
"And nothing else."
Chris stared at him.
The man gave a sympathetic shrug. "You were found by your neighbor. The really cute one."
Chris closed his eyes. "I take back wanting the director's cut. The theatrical version was fine."
The man chuckled and slid the folder aside. "Right. Well, let's get to the point. You're here because, technically, your death falls under the category of 'comical misfortune by simulator-related incident' — which means you qualify for a special reincarnation program."
Chris blinked. "…That's a thing?"
"Sure is." The god leaned forward, eyes sparkling. "Tell me, Chris — how do you feel about dating sims?"
Chris gave him a flat look. "I literally died playing one."
"Right! Which makes you perfect for this next opportunity."
Chris frowned. "Wait. You're not seriously suggesting…?"
The man snapped his fingers.
In a blink, a floating screen appeared in midair, showing a bright, overly saturated logo with pink hearts and glitter exploding behind it.
"HeartPoint Academy: The Ultimate High School Romance Experience!"
"Oh no," Chris said.
"Oh yes," the god grinned. "You, my dear boy, are being reincarnated into this. A 100% premium-quality dating simulator. No fantasy elements, no dragons, no demon kings. Just hormones, high school, and heartthrobs."
Chris stared at the screen. "But I've played this game."
"Exactly! You know the characters, the events, the flags, the bad ends… it's perfect!"
Chris pointed accusingly. "This is the one with the credit system, right? Where everything from food to relationships costs points?"
"That's the one!"
Chris groaned and leaned back in the chair. "It's like capitalism and puberty had a baby."
The god laughed so hard he wheezed. "Now that's a tagline."
"I thought reincarnation meant I'd get magic powers. Or a sword. Or a pet dragon."
"Nope. You get a school uniform, a wristband that tracks your romantic appeal, and a shared dorm room with a guy who only eats protein powder."
Chris buried his face in his hands. "This is hell."
"Technically," the god said, raising a finger, "this is a second chance at life. One where you might finally get a girlfriend!"
Chris looked up. "You mean the girls who are all programmed to fall in love with a blank slate MC with zero personality and plot armor thick enough to deflect nuclear warheads?"
The man raised an eyebrow. "You're saying that like you're not now that guy."
Chris paused. "Wait… I am the protagonist?"
"Oh yeah. Generic McHandsome. Welcome to your new body, bro."
Chris sipped the rest of his tea in one go and muttered, "I hate how tempting this is."
The man gave him finger guns. "That's the spirit!"
A glowing light surrounded the desk. The room began to blur. The motivational poster winked at him.
"Any last words before I send you off?" the god asked.
"Yeah," Chris said. "Please don't let me die in bunny slippers again."
With a flash of light and a sound like a dating app notification, Chris vanished into thin air.