Chapter 1 - Live Die Live

So I'm going to die tonight. Alone. I would prefer if there were cute girls (plural) around this god-forsaken rooftop to watch me jumping off. But I'm standing up here, alone. Just a man trying to recap his stupid life before ends it.

But maybe someone is out there, hearing me. And whoever you are, I have one question.

Do you also think the shortcut to escape suffering is suicide?

Ah--suicide is good is a bit of a controversial topic. Of course, people that disagree and choose to continue living in suffering win the argument all the time...because those who agree end up dying alone.

Those people are seen to be weak.

Hey, guess what, that's me. But I can say we're not weak.

We don't fear death--we'll see it as an opportunity. We don't beg for more time because there is never enough to prepare for death.

Them though? They're scared of it. They think death is always behind them. She'd grab them anytime, anywhere. They're at her mercy. Hopeless. Death is antagonized unfairly.

It would be nice if people thought about death more often.

Don't get me wrong, I love being alive and dead the same. Like a drug, living makes you an addict--try to stop breathing, oh you can't. Being alive...it's fun. Mine was fun. But when you have had enough, do consider a cure for it--death.

Oh shit, what am I thinking? What if children overheard my mind right now? I don't want to encourage them to climb this abandoned building with me. I mean, they should have a chance to find out themselves the use of life and death; if they want to pursue our natural addiction to life or call it off.

Yet again don't get me wrong, I'm not encouraging anyone to think death is a sexy doctor in a black blouse like me and embrace her right now. Live to be happy, it's all good. But just remember that there's happiness in dying, too.

Though it's not fun as life, just like sleeping.

I'm still on this monologue, huh? Why do I wonder? Could or would anyone want to hear about my life achievements overshadowed by drug and gambling addiction that finally led me up here? On the rooftop where death's breath swipes behind my neck?

I doubt it.

No one cares about other people's stories. I don't think that would make us happy.

Enough about that.

I make my way to the rooftop's edge.

Woah!

Look at this height!

Just perfect for a painless jump. All that's left is justifying why I choose to die.

To do that, I throw the letter on the cracked floor--I hope the wind's generous and keep it here until someone finds it. If I remember correctly I wrote my message as simple as dying: 'Oops, I fell, haha. Just bury me anywhere.'

One thing I love about myself is this twisted personality where I can joke around and not tell the truth. Well, even some low-rank detective could solve this. Choosing suicide over paying debt is common nowadays.

Yes, I'm running from debt.

Suicide is one way to do it, right?

Not that I can remember a single family member that's still alive in my life. I think I'd not burden anybody after this.

Ha...

I just had enough of this money and that fun, now I want to rest.

Right, let's carry on.

Ah, like this…and that. I position my body carefully, so whatever happens, while I'm falling, I want my head to touch the ground first.

No one likes pain.

I look down once more and feel my heart flutter. Bats on my stomach...like the saying, not literally bats. Why even eat bats? Another question then just pop into my mind. A question from years ago back when I was five or six: what happens after I die?

Gulp.

Will I meet my maker--God? Or will I just go to be sent into another women's womb? Damn it, I don't want any of those actually. Maybe being driven over by a japanese truck would be better.

Meh, it's too late now. Whatever happens after death is another concern for...after, well…died.

The moon beams at me, giving me a thumbs up--oh, that's just an airplane but whatever.

I will die tonight on Ilostcountoftimeyearsago. Maybe Monday? I hate Monday.

But maybe Monday is the perfect day for my death.

Well.

Bye.

Hold on. Wait.

On second thought, I have to delete my browser history first. Haha, I can't just embarrass myself if the police do really find me.

I reach for my phone and then--

Uh oh.

My feet are released from pressure and go up.

And now the wind blows hard as if a big fan was spinning in front of me. Shooting up my adorable hair. My hoodie is pushing me up as it collides with air participles. I'm being pulled by gravity just as I expect.

If I didn't make it clear I'm sorry, it's hard to keep this monologue when I'm falling down and about to escape life.

I look up, which is a second ago down for me. The ground is closer with each monologue I'm having.

But it has it's dark enough, don't you think? Let's sprinkle it with a little fine joke. Oh come on, I'm about to die anyway. Okay, so answer this: when somebody jumps off the building and look down (up for them) what will he see?

If your answer is something like, his death, or his memory playing like a film, that's not what happened to me.

Hint: knock-knock joke.

Get it? No? Well anyway, the answer is:

Door.

Door?

Er, is this a natural procedure before dying? Maybe a magical door leads to the afterlife?

Or just a man-made door that a door maker left on the ground recently. If that's so he sucks. I don't want to die on a door.

As I keep looking at the door, the time feels slower--just like when you slowly turn off a faucet from pouring water.

This gives me enough time to notice a golden plate planted on the door. There, with black ink, it printed 'reconcile room.' I may be bad at English but something in my head jogs the word out.

I don't like it.

Oh, what's happening now? The door is still there but it feels like I'm closing my eyes.

I couldn't tell.

My surroundings, which a minute ago was a forest, now is…it's just black. Not dark but a pure black as if a wiped blackboard. As if someone closed my eyes from behind.

I fall and fall…

Had it been an hour already I don't know.

It's silent…

Just like I'm in space.

Imagine how happy I am to see something. There's a white. It drives to make a line. Lines. Then it forms shapes--circles and rectangles. Then color appears, spreading around the dark as if a drop of paint into pure water. Red, Green, and Blue. With these outlines and colors mixed, a window holding a soft blue and puffy white is made. Then something more follows to create a place. It's as if I'm in a working painting. If that's true then I'm in a painting of a hallway. At the end of it is the reconcile room. The knob glitters.

I'm not falling anymore. My legs are not swaying like they were in the air. My feet get pressured. Gravity holds me up again. And I'm walking--on the ground different from what I saw when I fell. It's made of marble.

Footsteps finally whisper underneath.

There is a gentle voice behind me…calling. Speaking in a friendly tone. Alive. I wish I could turn myself to see but I am unable to do so. This is not my body.

The door is now a foot away. And a hand attached to me reaches for the knob.

Something passes my mind. Something is struggling to stay.

-1, "you will entertain us."

---*---*---*---

POV: 'Who the fuck is this?'

Oh man, I'm shitting myself right now. Well, not so but I feel like I could. Who wouldn't? When they are on their very first job. When I am going to appear as a tutor. A real job!

Just like my Lilly wants. Now she has nothing to nag about in our little apartment after her school ends. Take that, little sister!

It's not like I was having a hard time finding a job given that I was once the 3rd successful student at Acadasia. I just didn't feel like it was the right time to find one…or maybe I was lost about what to work as.

Not lazy, I hope.

But no more of that, I am here with my 120 Acadasia Dollars teacher attire, ready to prove to the community how reliable I am.

Let's see, behind this door is the reconcile room I hear about. There will be my students I'll be tutoring. I call them targets--but don't confuse them as my clients haha--so I expect hostility. This is an all-girls school anyway. Males are rare here. Rare means easy to discriminate.

My real client was the headmaster himself. After a couple of discussions among the PTA, they decided to allow me to teach the girls. They made it clear that no one was able to do so.

The girls' grades and attendance scores are dropping. The worst four students in White Book's High School.

Nevertheless, it is fascinating as to why the school would like to keep them.

They were called the negative girls. Four of them as for now. But no worry! However bad they are I believe everyone could improve! I am positive thatLFKVRLJ/toBLElWDBiwPuckMBJqTCEBQEEh+YVWi1d4=help

---*---*---*---

...Positive that I was supposed to die. I was falling to my death but how the fuck am I still standing, breathing, blinking, twitching, heaving, why, and how and who are those two feminine voices whispering to me.

And what's with this memory? It's making me sick…

I feel the body…I can move it. My ears ring and my head throbs. I crouch down and hold myself from puking. It's something…a wriggling sensation dig in my brain.

Memories.

Not mine.

Him, whoever the fuck I'm inside now.

"S--Sunbae? Sunbae?" a warm hand touches my shoulder, the girl's voice behind continue, "are you not well?"

I am not.

But I give the situation my best-forced chuckle.

'Heh, seriously…death just turned herself away from me.'