Chapter 1: The Loser Who Died Full
In the dim corner of a run-down neighborhood in Lusaka, Zambia, lived a man named Hendrix—a 27-year-old professional at nothing, part-time dreamer, full-time loser. His fridge was as empty as his bank account, and the only thing consistent in his life was his hunger.
Not just hunger for food.
Hunger for attention. Hunger for love. Hunger for purpose.
Unfortunately, the universe never delivered.
His days were spent scavenging Wi-Fi from neighbors, refreshing job posts he knew he wouldn't be hired for, and crafting pick-up lines that should have been illegal under international cringe treaties.
Until one day—miraculously—he got a job.
A real one.
A small accounting firm emailed him back. Nothing fancy, but it came with a front-loaded housing allowance. For the first time in years, he had a roof that didn't leak and a mattress that didn't deflate under his weight.
Feeling like a king in a ten-square-meter palace, Hendrix ordered food. Real food. Fried chicken. Beans in rich tomato sauce. Soft nshima, three packets of chips, and a soda that wasn't expired. He devoured everything like it was his last supper.
Ironically, it was.
He fell asleep full, bloated, and unusually satisfied.
Then the faulty electric stove he forgot to switch off sparked. The curtains caught fire. And just like that, Hendrix transitioned from being pitifully alive to embarrassingly dead.
He awoke… in the void.
Everything was white, infinite, and peaceful. Except for him. He stood there barefoot, belly still swollen, blinking in confusion.
"Am I in heaven?"
"No," came a voice that was as smooth as honey over thunder.
A woman floated above, radiant beyond comprehension. Skin like starlight. Hair flowing like silk dipped in nebulae. She wore divine robes that managed to be both majestic and extremely distracting.
A goddess.
Hendrix's soul, despite being ethereal, began sweating.
"...What's your name?" she asked, staring at a glowing scroll in her hand.
"H-Hendrix… ma'am."
She raised an eyebrow. "You died from overeating. After getting a job for the first time in your life. Then burned to death in your new home." She flipped the scroll. "You tried dating six girls in three years. All of them dumped you because you had no money and quoted anime lines during dates."
He looked away, mortified. "I thought that Naruto line was romantic…"
She kept going. "And then there's this—"
She cleared her throat and quoted him dramatically:
> "Duck up, duck down… let me lay down with your heart because ducks are swimming, pigeons are flying, my heart will fly with you. Let me be your black mamba, and your back will be black... because I'll break it."
Silence.
Hendrix wanted to die again.
"Are you trying to perform stand-up comedy in front of girls, or cast a forbidden spell to banish them forever?" the goddess asked, genuinely baffled. "You're not just pathetic—you're a masterpiece of pitiful. You're a living emoji of failure. I could barely watch."
He tried to speak, but only made a weird choking noise. His nose was already "bleeding," even though he was a soul. His gaze flicked between the ground and her celestial curves. There wasn't even a corner to crawl into. No bed to hide under. Not even a bush.
"Honestly," she sighed, floating down to eye level. "You're so shy, I bet if I summoned a wall right now, you'd try to phase through it like a ghost to avoid eye contact."
"I-I'm sorry…" he muttered.
"I've seen frogs with better game," she added.
He whimpered.
Then, oddly, she smiled.
"But that's why I chose you."
He blinked. "Huh?"
"I have a world in need of people who don't think they're hot stuff. You may have no spine, zero confidence, and the charm of a damp sponge, but there's potential in there… somewhere."
A divine screen appeared before her. She tapped through menus.
"Here's the deal. I'm going to give you a special skill. Something unique. Something that might even help you overcome this… shyness issue."
She looked proud. "Behold: [Sect Expansion]!
He stared.
"…What's that?"
"Exactly what it sounds like."
"I—uh… does it have to be called that? Sounds kinda…"
"Suspiciously suggestive?" she offered, tilting her head.
"…Yeah."
"Perfect. That'll help you practice not blushing like a tomato every time a girl smiles at you."
He covered his face.
She sighed. "You're still embarrassed? I didn't even describe what the skill does yet."
"I think I want to go back to being dead…"
"Nope. Too late."
She waved her hand, and a glowing portal appeared behind him.
"I'm reincarnating you into a world where you'll have a fresh start. No poverty. No cringe dates—well, unless you bring those on yourself. And don't worry—I'll tweak your soul a little to help with the shyness."
"Wait, tweak how?"
But it was too late.
The goddess pushed him with one elegant finger.
As Hendrix was sucked into the vortex of reincarnation, he could still hear her voice trailing after him:
"Oh—and about that black mamba line? Never say that again."
And then… he was gone.