Slapped Into Another Life

The soft hum of air conditioning blended with the faint rustle of turning pages. The university library was vast—rows upon rows of bookshelves stretched endlessly, towering like ancient pillars of knowledge. Golden afternoon light filtered through the massive windows, dust particles dancing in the air.

Ariz sat alone at a wooden table near the back, where few people wandered. It was his usual spot, nestled between the fantasy and philosophy sections—two things he wished he could escape into.

A book lay open before him, but the words blurred together.

His reflection stared back at him from the glossy page.

Black, slightly messy hair. A lean, yet not weak body. Sharp facial features—decent enough that he wasn't ugly, yet never striking enough to stand out. His dark brown eyes, however, held a deep loneliness.

He sighed.

'What's the point of reading these stories when my life will never be like them?'

He turned another page, but then—

"Mmm… ahh…"

A soft, hushed sound made him pause. His ears twitched. That wasn't in the book.

Curious, he glanced up—and his stomach twisted.

A couple stood a little further away from him, between two bookshelves, lost in their own world. The guy had his arms wrapped tightly around the girl, their lips locked together. Her fingers clutched his shirt, her body pressed against his. She let out another muffled moan as his hands roamed lower, gripping her ass.

Ariz clenched his fists.

Lucky bastard.

He had never held a girl like that. Never felt someone's warmth.

Why? Why did some guys get all the luck?! Why was he the background character while these people got to live the main story?!

Tch.

'Maybe I should just become a monk and dedicate my life to enlightenment…'

...Yeah, no. That was even worse.

With a deep sigh, he shut his book, shoving away his delusions of monkhood. His eyes drifting back to the couple— wrapped up in each other, whispering sweet nonsense. Their lips met again, and this time, the guy's hand had the audacity to venture even lower.

Ariz tore his gaze away before he ended up murdering someone with his eyes alone. He tried to focus back on his book, but the words blurred together. It was pointless.

With an irritated huff, he stood up abruptly, drawing a glance from the librarian. He ignored it, shoved the book back onto the shelf—probably in the wrong place, but who cared?—and stormed out of the library. 

***

The cold evening air slapped him in the face as he trudged toward the bus stop, bitterness swirling in his chest.

'Maybe I was a tyrant in my past life, and this is my punishment...'

He couldn't help but mentally list all the reasons his life felt like it was made of background noise. Unlucky, awkward, invisible…

And just as he thought the universe might finally hear his complaints, his foot caught on the sidewalk, sending him tumbling forward. Of course. Classic.

"Yeah, that's it. Next stop: monkhood." He muttered, dusting himself off, secretly hoping the universe was at least taking notes.

After waiting for some time at a bus stop.

Ariz stepped onto the near-empty bus with a sigh, he scanned the mostly empty space.

And then—he saw her.

Professor Layla Sinclair. 

The dream women of our academy, a D-Ranked Awakened.

Seated near the middle, one leg elegantly crossed over the other, resting her head on the back of her seat, sleeping. The dim, flickering bus lights barely did justice to her ethereal beauty.

He exhaled and choose a seat intentionally or not, directly across from her, the narrow central dip of the bus separating their seats.

The bus lurched forward, resuming its journey.

After some time, despite him trying not to...

His eyes kept drifting back to her.

Her long, silky dark hair framed her face perfectly, cascading over her shoulder. Her crisp white blouse clung snugly to her full, shapely figure, neatly tucked into a pencil skirt that accentuated her curves.

'Stealing glances? Totally not creepy. Perfectly normal.'

Right then, Layla shifted in her seat, adjusting her posture. The subtle movement made her blouse stretch slightly, outlining her generous curves.

Ariz turned his face toward the window, his thoughts spiraling.

Think of something else. Think of something else.

Puppies.

Old textbooks.

Dead fish.

Think of anything but her boobs—'

That's when it happened.

SCREEEEEECH!

The bus suddenly jerked forward—hard.

Before Ariz could even process what was happening, something soft and warm crashed into him.

His body tensed. His breath hitched. Time slowed to a crawl.

Professor Layla Sinclair had fallen onto his lap.

And his hands?

Firmly planted on her very large, very soft breasts.

'…Oh. Oh, sh—'

His brain blue-screened. The world around him faded into white noise.

These weren't just any breasts. These were heavenly artifacts, sculpted by gods themselves—pillowy, bouncy, unfairly perfect.

And right now?

They were in his hands.

For a split second, he questioned everything.

Was he dead? Did he just ascend? Was this the secret reward for enduring his pathetic life?

"YOU—!"

A slap like a thunderclap crashed against his face.

SMACK!

The force sent his head snapping sideways, his vision turning white for a second.

"Where do you think—" Layla started, her voice sharp with anger—then froze.

Her emerald eyes widened in realization.

"...Ariz?"

Oh no.

Oh no.

But the universe wasn't done with him yet.

The bus slammed on the brakes again.

Already dizzy, Ariz tipped sideways like a felled tree. His seat was right near the doors, which had slid open mid-brake.

Momentum betrayed him.

"Wait, wait, WAIT—!"

His body pitched forward—straight out of the bus.

And right into oncoming traffic.

The first thing he saw was headlights.

Bright. Blinding. Unforgiving.

'Oh sh*t—'

Time slowed.

A car rushed straight toward him, the driver's horrified expression visible through the windshield.

'Welp. This is it. This is how I die. Not in some grand adventure. Not even in a dramatic explosion. Just… flattened on asphalt like a damn pancake.'

"…At least I got to touch them."

But then—

A hand grabbed his arm.

A strong yank.

Before he could fully process it, Ariz was pulled back onto the bus with stunning force.

His body collided with something warm and soft.

His face?

Firmly planted between two familiar, heavenly cushions.

'No. Freaking. Way.'

Layla's breath was shaky, her grip still tight on his arm.

Her golden eyes, no longer filled with fury, now held something else—guilt? Concern?

"…Are you okay?" she asked softly.

Ariz didn't respond.

Mainly because his face was still buried in her chest.

And then—

DING!

A soft chime echoed in his mind.

-

[SYSTEM INITIALIZATION COMPLETE.]

[REQUIREMENTS MET.]

[SYSTEM ACTIVATING…]

-

'…Huh?'

And then—

A voice.

Smooth, teasing

[Tsk, tsk, baby. Getting into trouble the moment I wake up? ]

[But really, was shoving your face into another woman's chest the first thing you wanted me to see?]

'WHAT THE F***?!'