Chapter 2: From Office Worker to Ant—What Kind of Sick Joke Is This?!

Part 1: The Agonizing Death of an Office Worker

Pain. A searing, gut-wrenching pain coiled in Aya Kurose's stomach like a nest of writhing, venomous snakes.

Her fingers clenched weakly against the cold, unfeeling office floor. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out—just a wet, rattling gasp. Sweat dripped down her forehead, her pulse a thunderous drum in her ears.

The realization struck her like a slap to the face. Poison.

Her mind raced. Had she eaten something bad? The half-stale sandwich? The microwave dumplings that tasted like cardboard? That vending machine coffee that had the consistency of motor oil?

She tried to stand, to stumble toward her phone and call for help, but her legs refused to obey. Instead, she crumpled forward, her cheek pressing against the smooth office tile. The light above her flickered—or was it her vision failing?

Her chest burned as she struggled to inhale. Her heartbeat slowed, her fingers twitching weakly.

In her fading vision, something small crawled across her desk.

An ant.

A single, tiny ant, scurrying across the pristine surface as if it had someplace important to be.

Just like that, a bitter thought surfaced in her mind:

That ant has more purpose in life than I ever did.

How pathetic. How utterly, soul-crushingly pathetic.

Aya had spent years drowning in the monotony of corporate slavery, sacrificing sleep, health, and happiness for a paycheck that barely covered rent and instant noodles. And for what? To die alone in a soulless office over a poisoned meal worth less than the change in her pocket?

Her vision blurred. Her limbs felt weightless. The cold embrace of death curled around her like a shroud.

Her last thought before everything went dark?

"This is bullshit."

Part 2: The Silent Cage

Aya existed.

She wasn't sure how, but she existed.

No pain. No exhaustion. No body?

Everything was black. No sounds, no sensation of breath or movement. It was as if she had been sealed inside an empty void.

So, I really died...

There was no tunnel of light. No grand revelation. Just an eerie, deafening silence.

Was this the afterlife? A vast, endless nothingness? She had half-expected something more... dramatic. Maybe a stern lecture from some divine entity. A chance to bargain her way into reincarnation as a rich heiress or a cool adventurer.

But there was nothing.

Until she felt something.

A presence. A cage.

Aya's world wasn't truly empty—it was small. A tight, confined space pressed around her, smooth yet damp.

Panic spiked through her.

She tried to move, to lift a hand, but her body didn't respond the way it should. Her limbs—were they even limbs?—twitched weakly.

Something was wrong.

She pushed, straining against the suffocating walls of her prison. The damp surface resisted at first, then—

Crack.

The sensation was alien and raw. Warm, viscous fluid oozed through the cracks. Aya pushed harder, her instincts screaming at her to escape.

Another crack. And another.

Her entire world trembled as her fragile body forced its way forward. She clawed, tore, bit at the enclosing walls with newfound mandibles—

And then—

Light.

Dim, flickering light.

The prison shattered. Aya tumbled forward, drenched in thick, slimy fluid, her small, trembling body collapsing onto a damp surface.

But as she adjusted to the light, as her senses slowly settled—

Her blood ran cold.

Part 3: The Nightmare Reality of an Ant

Aya blinked—or at least, she tried to. But her vision was wrong.

Everything was blurred, shapes and movements blending together in a distorted mess. No fine details, no colors beyond a strange mix of brown and shadowy gray.

It wasn't just her sight that was wrong.

Her body—oh god, her body—

Long. Segmented. Limbs—too many limbs—twitched at her command. She felt light, far too small, her exoskeleton fragile and thin.

Mandibles. She had mandibles.

Her panic surged, but when she tried to scream, only a strange chittering noise escaped her.

No. NO.

With trembling movements, she turned, trying to make sense of her surroundings.

And that's when she saw them.

Hundreds of them.

Hatchlings. Just like her.

Tiny, twitching forms, pushing out of broken eggshells, drenched in the same sticky birth fluids. A sea of newborn ants, squirming and stumbling over one another.

Aya's mind broke.

I—I'm one of them?!

Her thoughts spiralled into sheer, unfiltered horror.

Her siblings—because what else could they be?—were ugly. Scary, oversized heads. Bulging black eyes. Twitching antennae.

She imagined how she must look.

Oh god. I'm one of those hideous, spindly-legged nightmares.

Her tiny, fragile legs flailed as she instinctively backed away—only to trip and land flat on her back.

A pathetic, upside-down ant, legs flailing in the air.

She wanted to die. Again.

Part 4: Welcome to the Colony, Worker #10284

Before Aya could recover from her existential meltdown, shadows loomed over her.

Big. Bigger than her. Bulky, towering figures with gleaming exoskeletons. Adult ants.

Caretakers.

One of them reached down and grabbed her—WITH ITS MOUTH.

A deep, paralyzing dread settled in. Oh god, I'm going to be eaten.

But instead of devouring her, the worker ant simply... placed her upright.

Then, it flicked its antennae at her.

A strange, tingling sensation pulsed through Aya's head. A message. A command.

"Move, hatchling."

Her tiny antennae twitched in utter disbelief.

Excuse me?! That's it? No 'congratulations on your birth'? No comforting words? Just 'MOVE'?!

It got worse.

Her hearing was awful. Her sight was worse. But her sense of smell?

Absolute hell.

The underground tunnels reeked of dirt, food, pheromones, and other ants. Thousands of different scents invaded her mind all at once, each one screaming a different meaning.

Her new instincts somehow understood it, but her human brain? Overloaded.

I can't see, I can't hear, I CAN ONLY SMELL EVERYTHING, and now I have to live as an ant?!

Aya's antennae drooped.

This was it. This was her new life.

No office. No coffee. No weekends.

Just tunnels. Dirt. And the crushing reality of being an insect.

Somewhere in the vast universe, a god was laughing at her.

And Aya Kurose, former office worker, now Ant #10284, wanted nothing more than to flip the world off.