Chapter 2. Heaven Can Wait
His eyelids peeled open slowly, like waking from a nap he hadn’t meant to take. Except this time, something was off. He wasn’t in his dingy room. He was in a wide, open office with floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out across an entire city. A skyline of shining glass towers, sunlight bouncing off them like something out of a billionaire drama. Marble floors, leather furniture, and a chandelier the size of a damn SUV.
"Nice," he muttered, rubbing his eyes. "Now I’m dreaming of rich people shit. That web novel really fried my brain."
He turned to take it in again, but the office vanished. Just like that.
Suddenly, he was standing in a vast, blindingly white space. No walls, no floor, no ceiling—just endless white stretching in every direction.
"...What the hell."
"You’re finally here, you bastard!"
Jaxon spun around, startled. Standing there was a pudgy man in pajama pants and a tank top that read ’Eat, Sleep, Write, Repeat’. His hair was wild, like he’d just woken up—or never went to sleep. His thick-rimmed glasses were foggy, and veins were practically bulging out of his forehead.
Jaxon blinked. "What kinda hairy fever dream is this—"
"Don’t look away from me, punk! I’m talkin’ to you!"
Jaxon exhaled through his nose and slowly turned back, eyebrows raised. "Alright, sure. Let’s hear it. What, are you the God of Bad NovelFire Tropes or something?"
Before he could get another word out, his body suddenly ignited.