Just a pinch of mindlessness

Tedior calmly sits by the ledge, his legs dangling freely above the few thousand meters high tower.

The strong wind breezes by, ruffling his dry and crisp black locks that has been left abandoned, uncared for under the scorching sun and over the dry wind for over 3 days now. Occasionally a stray cloud will provide a momentary relieve. But that is all there is, a few minutes of shade, then nothing but scorching pain. Just like his mental capacity in dealing with tax.

He leans forwards precariously, gazing forlornly down at the speckle of lights that blinks teasingly at him, almost mockingly at his predicament.

Its the same view every night for the past three days. Little myriad of colors at night, scorching blinding sunrays by day. He can barely make anything out from the distance even with all the light reflecting the surface below.

For a tower so high, why can't he touches the clouds? Then he could have just open his mouth to collect some water. Maybe even tasting of cotton candy or marshmallow of the minty type.

He resignedly lay backwards, plopping onto the cooling surface of the tower top. The cold surface soothes little of his gnawing hunger, burning thirst and searing headache.

The one thing that manages to distract him from his deadly trio is his obsessives curiosity on these intricate carvings edged onto every inch and corner of the surfaces.

He fiddles with the indents of the carvings, having been tracing over it again and again for the past three days. Just enough time for him to memorise every small section of the tower. He is sure it will come in handy one day.

Probably.

When he first landed on this tower, he had though that he was on top on the eyes of s*uron, what with the four arching spirals that looks so similarly to that of the movie. Alas, when he vigorously scours his measly little brain, there is actually only two spirals then instead of the four in front of him. He was severely dissapointed then.

'What is this structure made out of anyways?' He muses curiously as he awkwardly bends his arm to gently taps on it. 'Not metal, nor wood neither cement.'

Pushing himself upwards then laying back on the ground on his belly instead, he gives the beautifully carved roof a good long lick.

'Tastes like cheese macaroons dusted with ginger powder.' He comments, smacking his lips to double check the flavor, probably his imagination.

He resignedly sighs again as he lays on his back again, idly swinging his free dangling legs. The twinkling stars and the cold glow of the moon gazes down at him, as he hums mindlessly.

What shall he be having supper for today? Imaginary roasted chicken and acorn with mashed potato and gravy, or grilled fish coated with lemongrass and garlic. Of course can't forget about the constant side dish of despair.

Oh, how he missed his collection of acorns. He misses their lovely smooth surfaces and adorable little hats. How he had moisturise them and polishes them everyday. What befalls of them? What of their fate?

What of his fate?

He shakes his head to rid of such thoughts. No use in falling into long suffering anguish again.

Swinging himself up so he can sit crossing his legs, he peers at the view before him. He wonders for the thousandth time what lays below.

Is it a forest? A village? A town? He would like to think that it is filled with monsters, with gaping maw and grotesque flesh, handing out flavourful candies to unsuspecting victims. Giving out free hugs and useful life advices. Now that would be fun.

No use musing about it when he can't even see anything from being so high up.

Maybe... he should finally have a closer look?

So, he plants both feet to the ledge and jumps.

Winds howls past his ears as he finds it harder and harder to breathe. He can barely make out his own shouting as the pressure in his ears suddenly building up from the speed he is falling with.

It is exhilarating! It is liberating! And it is empowering. It feels like nothing he felt before. Everything almost feels like a stand still, like he is floating in the air. He takes this chance to enjoy the view once again.

It is a town!

Nothing of it implies a normal 21st century town but one of fantasy with medieval structures, canals and is that a really fancy looking castle? He can not believe he missed that when he was up there. What of his monsters? Doesn't seems to have any in sight!

He starts laughing from the hilarity of it all. Did he gets transmigrated to a fantasy world? Him? Poor insane Tedior got picked out of everyone else? Or maybe everyone else was chosen and he is left here on top of a building as spare?

Pfft! It does not matter.

He should have done this three days ago!

As he basks in dopamine and serotonin high, he is rudely and abruptly interrupted. Suddenly finding himself suspended in midair and his surroundings gradually turns darker and darker...

---------------

Warning: Impending death immenent.

Accept the system to survive the fall?

-Yes

-No

59, 58, 57...

---------------

These words appears suddenly in front of him, glowing menacingly in blood red.

Tedior's attention is immediately drawn to the 1 minute countdown. Why the timer? He is suspended in the air. The time outside does not seems to be moving. He knows businesses utilises the timer or countdown effect to mess with people's head. To make them act instead of thinking the ramifications of their choices.

Then another though creeps into his mind.

"You choose to show up now?" He growls, anger seeping into his voice. "After leaving me up there for three days. No food. No water. And now you decide to show up when I'm at my lowest? Where I have nowhere to go but death?"

Tedior's eyes gains a maniacal glint. A dawning realisation creeping onto him. He starts laughing hysterically, clutching his gnawing stomach, ignoring his burning parched throat.

"What do they say about choices freely given when the only other option is death is not a choice at all. Well, I'll prove that statement wrong." He whispers hoarsely, throat paying for the abuse from that laughter.

The countdown trickles to zero.

And the pressure of the cold, biting wind once again embraces him. He joyously laughs as feels the rush of wind on his face, his arms, body and leg. This is it. The euphoria! The high that he gets from this. The absolute fun! The adreneline fueled anticipation of the impact!

He does not even want to think about the ramifications of accepting that system. The foolishness in selling one's soul to an unknown. Especially one that tries to manipulate him.

Even so, none of those really matters in the face of thrilling death!

He can see it. The ground approaching faster and faster. And... is that a person right below him?

Well, the polite thing to do here is to properly apologises for his splattered remains. But... rules does not applies to the dead. He no longer holds accountability for whatever happens next.

As the ground comes rushing closer, it happens in an instant. He sees her face. Just a fleeting glimpse. Her face laces with horror as she hastily lifts her hands as if to catch him.

He feels a little bit of giddy happiness right before he hits the ground. Well, at least the last thing he sees is a-