Isekai Tyrant

Chapter II - Comedy and Tragedy

Playwrights say that comedy goes hand-in-hand with tragedy. For my death, it happened like a comedy and ended in tragedy.

The flash of light from the truck as it hung over me, and the scent and feeling of falling rain. It happened so fast. The next thing I knew was the weight of a thousand rocks crushing me against the ground.

Compared to my usual time out, I got off from work at the embassy at a later time. It wasn't because of overtime, but my boss called me in to discuss something. Apparently, I was in line for a promotion I've been hoping for a long time. Needless to say, I was elated. I couldn't wait to go home. So when my boss finally let me leave, I hurriedly called for a cab to take me home and relay the good news to my family.

I worked at the city, but I lived a bit farther away from work at the suburbs. It was the property my parents left us before retiring. Going back or forth meant I had to take at least forty minutes on one trip. But I didn't mind. Something unusual that I've always liked were long trips where I could gaze outside a window, admiring the scenery. No matter how repetitive or dilapidated that scene might be.

The family house has always been big enough for the four of us. It had to be. We were just like any family as the rest in our neighborhood, except for one thing. None of us were related to each other. Our household, the Jones household, is a foster home. The Jones couple couldn't have kids, so they started adopting instead. That's how I got myself a family. Inside the shabby but homey walls of the Jones home are precious memories that I'd never trade for anything in the world.

Like the memory when I first arrived after being forced to go there by child services because I kept on running away from my previous foster parents.

Like the memory when I ran away again from the Jones home because of my distrust.

Or like the memory of my first hug.

These three are just a few of the countless ones I've collected since I got there, but they're the first ones that made me feel something else from what I've always felt before I met my family. Whenever I was with them, I felt like I could be myself. Like someone who could be anyone regardless of my past.

So when I realized I had died, I couldn't handle the sorrow.

"Liverwood suburbs are up there, right miss?" The cab driver asked me.

"Yup," I replied dully as I continued to tap my phone to kill the dungeon boss. "You first go up the hill then go down."

"A'right."

I closed my eyes and these memories started to run fresh inside my mind. They ran along with another stream of the broken memories of someone else. I tried to block these memories to stop my tears from spilling, but it only amplified the dull ache inside my head.

Honk... honk...

"What the fuck?! Is this guy crazy?" My cab driver shouted.

My mind was reeled back to reality from the game. "What's going on?!" I yelled. The sight of a swerving truck greeted me from the driver's windscreen.

A fresh batch of wine had just stealthily arrived this dawn. I hastily took off the cap and downed its contents over my gaping mouth as I stuffed my mouth with drugs that tasted similar to the ones I used to take. The spicy-sweet wine spilled all over the soft, white silk sheets, dyeing them a lovely purple.

"Holy fuck. I'm alive. We're still alive!" The cab driver and I hugged each other at the realization we were safe.

"Fucking asshole!" I kicked the back of the truck in frustration. The truck's driver didn't come out after the incident. I figured he must've been knocked unconscious. Disturbingly, the truck's window was heavily tinted so we couldn't see what's inside.