Chapter 1
Hero Number ― 163417413
I had firmly resolved that if I were ever to commit suicide, I’d definitely jump into the sea.
Why?
Because it would harm others the least, and it’s clean.
Just look at the other ways people die. Those who come across an exploded, tomato-like corpse—what fault of theirs is it? Or the firefighters who have to deal with a body that’s rotted away in a room like an overripe fruit—what sin did they commit?
“…… Ugh.”
That’s why there’s one method of suicide I don’t just despise, but feel no sympathy for whatsoever. That is jumping in front of moving vehicles to die by traffic accident.
Let’s put it bluntly—it’s a societal evil.
What crime has the driver committed to suddenly be branded a murderer? Especially for those who drive for a living, there’s the very real risk of losing their job. And to make matters worse, roads are restricted and traffic comes to a standstill. All because some person decided to kill themselves, they inconvenience countless others.
Such individuals, no matter how pitiable their lives might have been, shouldn’t expect sympathy from anyone. They deserve ridicule and rebuke. Yup.
“Aa… Uu… Ggh….”
Which is why, when I die, I’ll do it quietly by throwing myself into the sea.
After all, the world gives and takes. If I were to leave this world without anyone even knowing I existed, how clean and simple that would be?
I’d always resolved that I would die this way, definitely.
“Yo… u…!”
But then.
Who would’ve thought that I’d end up being run over by a car?
“…You… f… btch…!”
Beyond the blood-red haze of my vision, a blurred image of a woman appeared. She had glowing dark blonde hair as if it emitted light and wore a pristine white dress.
She was looking down at me, lying there on the crosswalk, dying, with a radiant smile on her face.
In the midst of the commotion around me, her tranquil demeanor felt overwhelmingly out of place. It was like she had descended from another world altogether.
“Alright, I expect you to work hard from now on. Hero number 163417413.”
Saying this, she waved her hand gently. I opened my mouth to retort, but I was wrong.
I couldn’t even manage a sound, let alone a breath.
I’m dying.
This is what dying feels like, huh.
I felt it seep into my bones.
Me, Park Jeong-yong. Age 24. Resting here.
“Hey! Are you okay?! Come to your senses!”
“Call an ambulance!”
“Is there anyone who knows CPR?!”
“Aaah! What is this?!”
Whispers and murmurs from the surroundings reached my ears.
My head was pounding as if it were splitting in two. I wanted to tell them all to shut up, but at the same time, I felt apologetic toward everyone gathered around me.
To all of you who were having an ordinary morning, I’m sorry for showing you this sight.
I’m sorry for causing traffic chaos. If you’re late for work, feel free to blame the crazy guy who darted across on a red light. Go ahead and criticize me along with everyone else. We’re all human, right? Can’t we just let it slide?
And most of all, to the driver who hit me, it’s not your fault. If you check the dashcam, even the insurance company will curse me out. Still, just in case, you should get some psychological counseling.
I wish you peace and happiness.
While reflecting on the sins I had committed by dying in such a way, something strange began to happen.
The accident scene grew increasingly sticky.
I was falling. Sucked in.
It was pitch black.
