[YOU HAVE DIED IN THE DUMBEST WAY POSSIBLE.]
[CONGRATULATIONS: YOU ARE THE CHOSEN ONE.]
[LOADING: TRANSMIGRATION BEGINS NOW...]
A blinding white light swallowed Shinji whole.
He braced, clenching his ass cheeks for something dramatic—angelic choirs, a hot goddess, even a cool group of gods who hated him but still gave him an OP system or ability either way, and definitely don't kill him before he gets way too strong for them to control type shit.
Or maybe, just maybe... an MC in a NTR system?
Nah, nah—just too much.
Instead… nothing.
Just empty, infinite white. Like someone had deleted reality and emptied the recycling bin.
Then:
[ERROR: Unable to complete transmigration.]
[Reason: Interdimensional paperwork not yet processed.]
[Please wait while the Angels of Processing complete the necessary forms.]
"...angels of pro…what?" Shinji said to no one.
A door blinked into existence like a glitchy PowerPoint animation. With no better options, Shinji stepped through.
The Waiting Room Between WorldsIt looked like some kind of celestial office breakroom—cheap foldable chairs, stale instant coffee, and a vending machine humming in the corner. A handwritten note was taped to the glass:
"Don't. Fucking. Touch. I mean it. I swear if you do, I'll chop your toes off. Yes, especially the fat one."
Even the snacks looked cosmic, like stardust-flavored chips and black hole gummies.
A circle of people sat in the center of the room—some chatting quietly, others clearly losing their grip on sanity.
"New guy?" asked a bored-looking, overweight man in office attire—no suit jacket, just a wrinkled shirt stretched over his bulging stomach. A badge on his chest read: TRANS-MAN.
"Welcome to the Waiting Room," he said, gesturing vaguely. "Name's Trans1. Head counselor of this fine office."
He pointed around the circle.
"That's Trans2." A woman gave a little wave without looking up from her magazine.
"Trans3—hoodie guy." A nod from a slouched figure.
"Trans4— guy over there with an overly sized Cap."
He turned to the last person, about to introduce him—
"And this guy—"
"I'm Nick," the man interrupted, flashing a crooked grin.
"Yeah, he's Nick," Trans1 muttered, mildly annoyed.
Nick did look kind of… off. Familiar, even. The kind of guy you'd see lurking in an alley at 3 a.m.—the one your gut instinct tells you, fuck masculinity, run bitch, no matter what. Not even if someone starts screaming bloody murder behind a dumpster. Just keep running, clench your jaw, and pretend you didn't hear a damn shit.
Yeah. Shinji wasn't ready to unpack whatever the hell Nick was.
Shinji squinted. "Wait—why are you all Trans1 through 4, and he's just… Nick?"
Trans1 opened his mouth. "Because we have an irre—" He stopped himself. "Never mind about that."
He clapped his hands together. "Anyways. Welcome, Shinji. Come on—grab a seat in the circle."
Shinji was definitely not sitting next to Nick. The moment he had the chance, he scooted his chair closer to Trans1.
Trans1 cleared his throat. "Alright, Shinji. Kindly introduce yourself—name, age, and how you died."
Shinji looked reluctant. "Why should I do that? Isn't this the waiting room?"
"Shinjjjiiii," Trans1 sang with a hint of sass, "this is also… the healing room."
The rest of the group nodded in unison, solemn and weirdly synchronized—
Except Nick, who was scratching and itching his private part like it was a full-time job.
Shinji thought to himself, Why don't we start with Nick? Clearly, he's itching to tell us about himself.
He said aloud, "Yeah… why don't we start with Nick? He's clearly itching to go first."
"Nick did his turn yesterday," Trans1 said casually. "And also... fifteen days ago."
"Fifteen days ago?" Shinji blinked. "Wait—how long have you been here?"
Trans 1 smiled, calm as ever. "I've been here fifty years."
"FIFTY WHAT?!" Shinji shouted.
Trans1 took a slow sip from a chipped mug that read #I love Trans.
"Relax," he said. "Time moves weird here. You get used to the internal screaming."
Shinji stared at the mug.
"…By the way, what does 'Trans' even mean in this office?" he asked, looking around—carefully skipping over Nick.
Trans2 didn't look up. "Transmigration, dummy. What else could it mean?"
Shinji nodded slowly, trying to play it cool. "Ohh. Cool, cool. Just wanted to be sure."
Trans1 leaned forward with a cheerful smile. "So, Shinji… we can wait all day for you to talk. No rush."
Suddenly, all eyes were on him.
"Alright, fine…!" Shinji huffed. "My name is Shinji—"
Trans1 cut in. "No, no. You say, 'Hello everyone'—we respond, then you say your name. We have to be nice about it. We're not animals."
Nick shouted from across the circle, still scratching himself. "YEAH!"
Shinji rolled his eyes and forced the fakest grin he could manage.
"Hi, everyone," he said, dead inside.
A scattered chorus of "Hi, Shinji" followed.
"My name is Shinji. Nakamura And I'm… twenty-seven. Years."
Welcome, Shinji Nakamura…" the scattered chorus continued in response.
Trans4 finally asked, "So, how did you… you know, die?"
Trans3 chimed in quickly. "Definitely a truck-kun."
Shinji sighed, clearly uncomfortable. "I don't wanna talk about it."
"It's okay," Trans1 said with a reassuring smile. "Three of us here died from trucks. Totally normal. Did you know that large truck accidents cause over 16 times more deaths annually than bathroom slips and falls?"
Shinji stared, a little confused. I didn't ask for that information… Then he laughed. "Funny how unintentional poisoning causes 102,958 deaths. That's the leading cause of unintentional injury deaths. Still smiling…"
Shinji couldn't help but wonder aloud, "What kind of sicko keeps track of stats like that? What kind of people are in this waiting room?"
Suddenly, a voice screamed out from the shadows. "DON'T FUCKING TOUCH THE VENDING MACHINE! OR ELSE I'M GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU, NEW GUY!"
It echoed and faded, like a ghost vanishing into the unknown.
Shinji blinked, confused. "What the hell was that? Who was that, huh?"
Trans2, without looking up, raised her hand. "That's just Todd. He died in a lava accident. His soul's still hanging around. The angels are still trying to piece his body together."
Shinji stared, trying to process that.
"DON'T SHOUT AT US, YOU BASTARD!" Trans2 yelled, her voice cutting through the silence as she shot a glare at the unseen Todd.
Shinji blinked. "What is this place?!"
Trans 1 gestured at the circle. "This is the limbo between worlds. Everyone here got picked for a transmigration but, well... bureaucracy."
Trans3 leaned in, pressing further. "How'd you die? Come on, I wanna see if I've got the stats for it in my head."
Shinji, finally succumbing to the madness, sighed. "I died from swallowing snake venom."
The group went silent.
"Well, that's… a new one," Trans1 murmured.
Then Trans3 shouted, "SEE?! I TOLD YOU! Stats don't lie! Unintentional poisoning!"
Shinji groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Please don't start with the stats."
Trans3 ignored him, pressing on with an almost childlike fascination. "So, how did the venom get in your mouth? I'm fascinated to know."
Everyone leaned in, eyes fixed on Shinji, waiting.
He sighed again. "I got it in my mouth… from sucking my friend's thighs."
Nick blurted, "What the actual fuck?"
"No, no—wait!" Shinji waved his hands, panicked. "He got bitten by the … initiation snake or whatever, and I tried to suck the venom out. Then, when we were celebrating that he didn't die, I—uh—accidentally swallowed the venom."
He closed his eyes, bracing for the laughter, humiliation, whatever was coming.
But it didn't come.
Instead, Trans1 said gently, "You poor child… That's so sad. You're another victim. It's not your fault."
Everyone nodded, gazes softening, pity pouring over him like a warm, awkward blanket.
Shinji opened one eye. "What do you mean it's not my fault? I clearly swallowed the damn venom. It's literally my fault."
"No, it's not," Trans2 said firmly. "It was Never your fault. Never!!!."
"Preach, sister!" Trans3 shouted, like it was gospel truth.
Nick, still itching violently, added, "Yeah… fucking not your fault, man." Then, with a grunt, he shoved his hand deep behind his ass crack, aggressively scratching like he was digging for treasure.
Shinji immediately turned his head, gag reflex triggered. He wasn't ready for that kind of content.
A heavy silence settled over the room.
Then, Trans1 finally spoke—his voice gentle, but edged with something firmer beneath.
"I think it's time we addressed the elephant in the room."
Right on cue, the distant "PWAAAAAAAHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRHHHHKK!!" of an elephant trumpet echoed through the room.
Shinji jolted, whipping his head around. "What the hell was that?!"
Everyone exchanged knowing glances. The air thickened, heavy with something unspoken. A quiet agreement passed through them, like they'd rehearsed this moment before.
Trans1 turned back to Shinji. "Since you clearly don't understand what's happened to you… let's help you out. Poor child. Still unaware of what was done to him."
He turned to the side, eyes softening.
"Nick," he said with unsettling compassion, "you wanna start?"
Nick scratched at his arm like his skin owed him money. His voice cracked. His posture sagged like a deflated tent.
"I'm addicted to crack," he mumbled.
A hush fell over the room.
Trans1 gave a slow, understanding nod, eyes glistening with something close to reverence.
"It's not your fault, Nick. Poor Nick."
The group nodded in solemn agreement.
All except Shinji, who tilted his head.
"Wait... if it's not Nick's fault… then whose is it?"
Every head in the circle snapped toward him in perfect, horrified synchronization.
"You really just ask that?"
"You don't know?"
"Seriously?"
Shinji blinked, genuinely confused.
"What? He's a crackhead. It's usually… I mean… their fault, right?"
"Whoa, whoa—chill, my guy," said Trans4, lifting his hands like a monk defusing a bar fight. "We don't judge here. We listen. That's the rule."
Trans1 leaned in, voice suddenly dense with implication.
"Besides… we all know whose fault it is."
Shinji frowned, brows knitting.
"Okay. Then whose fault is it?"
Trans1 leaned forward, eyes flicking left and right like the room itself might be listening. The fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, and the vending machine in the corner let out a mechanical sigh. Slowly, deliberately, he leaned into Shinji's ear and whispered with eerie intensity:
TRANS 1
(hushed)
"The Author."
Shinji blinked, brows knitting in confusion.
SHINJI
"Huh? What the hell are you talking about?"
Across the room, Trans2 sat up a little straighter. Her eyes went glassy, unfocused, like she was watching something only she could see.
TRANS 2
"Have you ever felt like your thoughts weren't your own? Like… someone else is pulling the strings?"
Nick, hunched in his chair like a crumpled paper bag, scratched violently at his neck. The sound was raw, like tearing fabric. His eyes looked far away, unblinking, glassy.
NICK
"I had dreams, man. I was gonna go to trade school. Then my Author gave me drugs."
The rest of the group murmured like mourners at a wake.
"So tragic."
"You deserved better."
"Shame on the Author. Where's the justice in this world?"
Shinji's mouth went dry. His heart thudded in his chest like it had just remembered how to panic.
SHINJI
(sputtering)
"What?! What does that even mean?"
SHINJI
"Wait—so you're telling me… I'm not real?"
Trans2 offered him a soft, almost maternal smile—like a nurse about to give bad news.
TRANS 2
"Not not real. Just… fictional."
SHINJI
(deadpan, flatly)
"Same thing!"
Trans1 leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers, voice now calm and certain.
TRANS 1
"Not when readers are involved."
Nick raised a shaky hand, his fingers twitching mid-air like they were remembering how to move.
NICK
"I was supposed to have a redemption arc. A real one. But the Author kept slapping 'comic relief' tags on me. Now I'm just the crack guy."
SHINJI
(muttering)
"This is insane…"
SHINJI (baffled):
This can't be real. Are you all blaming the author?
Then, reality hiccuped.
The ceiling twitched. Just for a second. A flicker—like the static of an old CRT screen—rippled across the fluorescent panels. The walls shimmered, then glitched. For a brief, terrifying moment, lines of glowing code replaced the texture of the room—jagged symbols in a language no one spoke, gone as quickly as they appeared.
Everyone froze. Even Nick stopped scratching.
TRANS 3
(whispers, barely audible)
"…shit. The Author's editing."
TRANS 1
(tense, low voice)
"Act natural."
SHINJI
(panicking)
"What does that even mean?!"
NICK
(rubbing his temples, exhausted)
"It means don't fucking monologue. Don't say anything profound. That's how you get rewritten."
The group froze.
An oppressive silence settled over the room—so thick even Nick stopped scratching. Nobody moved. Nobody breathed. Somewhere, the vending machine hummed like it was stalling for time.
Three painfully long beats passed.
Then—click.
The overhead lights stopped flickering and buzzed back to their usual fluorescent indifference.
Everyone exhaled in unison.
TRANS 1
(cheerfully, like the last 30 seconds hadn't happened)
"Okay. Crisis passed. Who wants coffee?"
NICK
(skeptical)
"Do we even… have a coffee budget?"
TRANS 2
(dryly, crossing her arms)
"Depends if webnovel gives our creator a contract this week or not."
Shinji just stared, mouth slightly open, eyes darting around like he was trying to find a fire exit from fiction itself.
Shinji sat down slowly, eyes scanning the surreal room.
"This is insane."
Trans 1 gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.
"Welcome to the club."
Just then, a glowing, celestial printer in the corner dinged, spitting out a sheet of gold-trimmed paper like some divine fax machine. Shinji stared at it, brain still buffering.
He hadn't even finished processing all that had happened, the fact when the conversation took a sharp emotional turn.
Trans 1 kept going, like they hadn't just survived a metaphysical glitch.
"So anyway, I think Shinji finally gets it. Thanks, Nick."
Nick, still scratching furiously, gave a thumbs-up.
"Glad I could help."
Everyone turned toward Shinji again.
Trans 1 leaned in.
"So, what about you, Shinji? What kind of trauma you carrying? Love triangle? Betrayal? NTR arc?"
Shinji immediately recoiled.
"Hell no. No NTR arc."
He paused… then frowned.
"…Come to think of it…"
He stared at the floor, voice growing quieter.
"My Author didn't even let me meet my dad. Like—ever. He just slapped me with the last name Nakamura and moved the hell on. Not even a flashback. Not even a goodbye. Just my mom and some shady BS backstory. And don't you dare tell me it was 'pacing issues.'"
Tears welled in his eyes.
"And worst of all?"
His voice cracked.
"He made me die a virgin.
And sucking venom out of a guy's thigh.
What kind of twisted Author is that?"
A beat of silence.
Trans 2 tilted her head.
"How do you even know it's a he? Could be a woman."
Everyone—including Shinji—replied in unison:
"Nahhhhh."
Trans 3 nodded firmly.
"Definitely a he. No way a woman wrote this chapter. It's too unhinged."
Then he smirked.
"I got the stats to prove women aren't this funny."
Trans 2 groaned, crossing her arms.
"Oh, great. So now you're all sexist on top of being dead. Love how some things never change, even in the afterlife. Tsk."
Trans 2 let out a bitter laugh, arms still crossed.
"My Author threw me into a harem story—and made me hate the main character for no reason. I had villainess powers, undefeated, untouched… until he beat me with the power of friendship and, of course, plot armor."
Trans 1 shook his head. "Shit, that stuff's OP."
Nick nodded solemnly. "Hits like crack."
Shinji muttered, "Of course it does."
Trans 2 wasn't finished.
"My backstory? A burned-down village, dead parents, and a love interest who turned out to be my brother… all just to crank up the angst quota. And after I lost, any time the MC did something kind to me, the script made me say: 'Now put it in my mouth.' Every. Single. Time."
The whole group winced, recoiling in shared horror.
In unison:
"Ohhh, that's terrible."
"AUTHORS. ARE. MONSTERS."
Trans 4 shook his head. "Fucking authors, man. They just create us, rip out our feelings, and call it character development."
Trans 3 threw up his hands. "Right?! They give us hope, dreams—sometimes even a pet—just to kill it off in Chapter 12 for so-called 'motivation.'"
He paused, voice cracking.
Trans 3:
"My Author? He was clearly dealing with more trauma than i fucking thought . He sent me to an NTR world. The main character—the main character!—I cried while he was sleeping with my wife in front of me. I died of a stroke. A fucking stroke. WHY?!"
He broke down. "He screwed me over, man. Bastard…"
Nick blinked. "Don't get me started on smut. Especially the dark kind…"
Trans 1 waved both hands quickly. "Okay, okay! That's enough. We're not getting demonetized today. Keep it PG—vetting week's coming."
Trans 1 clapped. "Speaking of which—lighter note! We've got vetting this week!"
The whole group—including Shinji—brightened up immediately.
Trans 3 grinned. "Hope we pass. Some of the shit we said might get us banned."
Nick shrugged. "Relax. Fans'll want more. We passed the 4K word mark, we're golden. Chapter 3's coming. Don't screw this up, Shinji."
Shinji squinted. "Screw what up?"
Trans 1:
"Contracts, bro. Do you think our Author will get one?"
Trans 2:
"Depends. We'd never know."
A moment of silence passed. Then, the heavenly printer dinged again.
[TRANSMIGRATION FORM: SHINJI – CLEARED]
The wall shimmered, then peeled open like golden paper, revealing a radiant doorway pulsing with light.
Trans 1 stood, brushing imaginary dust off his pants.
"Well," he said with a small smile, "looks like your paperwork's done. Good luck, Chosen One."
Shinji hesitated. "Wait—what about you guys?"
Trans 1 grinned, already waving.
"Us? Nah, we'll be fine. We're just… plot development after all."
They all waved at him, smiling like background characters who knew their lines had ended.
Trans 3:
"You've dealt with your trauma. That means you get to leave."
Shinji wiped a stray tear from his eye, heart heavier than he expected.
As he stepped toward the glowing light, a voice called out behind him—
Trans 4:
"Yo! Whatever you do, don't pick fire magic! Always go for the rarest ability. Literally always."
[SHINJI – TRANSMIGRATION COMPLETE]
[DESTINATION: TRANSKINGDOM]