Volume 1 – 0. Eclipse

In an office lined with rows of desks cluttered with computers and uneven stacks of documents, the overhead lights hummed softly, casting a steady glow across the room. Beyond the window, a silver moon hung high, close to the center of the sky. Trailing behind it was a crimson one, and farther still, a faint, nearly swallowed black orb. The three seemed to drift closer together, as if on the verge of aligning.

“Lucien, have you seen this month’s financial report?”

The question came from a man in his late twenties, hunched over his desk. He scratched the back of his head, brows knit together as his gaze darted across the mess in front of him. “I swear I left it right here…” he muttered under his breath, rifling through a stack of papers with growing frustration.

Seated beside him, a younger man in his early twenties remained focused on the laptop in front of him. The bluish light reflected faintly in his tired eyes. He spared his coworker a brief glance, then lazily swept his gaze across his own desk. Spotting the document, he picked it up without ceremony and flicked it over.

“There,” he said flatly. “I borrowed it earlier. Wanted to double-check everything. Looks fine to me, though.”

The man—Neil—caught the papers mid-air, his frown deepening as he skimmed the top page. His lips pressed into a thin line. “You sure about that? I’m not trying to get chewed out by the old hag again over a misplaced comma.”

Lucien let out a short snort, leaning back in his chair. He rolled his stiff neck until it cracked audibly, grimacing for a split second before settling. “Relax. I went over her payroll calculations three times,” he said, one brow lifting slightly. “Unless someone’s getting paid in Monopoly money, we’re fine.”

Neil exhaled through his nose, still unconvinced, but began straightening the papers into a neat folder anyway. “If we still get yelled at, I’m dragging you down with me.”

“The only one I’m blaming,” Lucien muttered, already turning back to his screen, “is whoever thought this deadline was a good idea.”

He leaned forward again, fingers returning to the keyboard. The faint blue glow from the laptop sharpened the tired shadows beneath his eyes. Somewhere in the office, a clock ticked quietly.

11:47 p.m.

His work computer had already been shut down. On his laptop screen, Adobe Photoshop displayed a half-finished commission logo. If not for the client insisting it be completed before midnight, he would have left long ago.

This client and the old hag must share the same villain origin story… If they underpay me, I'm becoming the story's sequel.

Lucien cursed inwardly, keeping his true feelings from showing on his face.

“Pulling another all-nighter?” Neil asked, zipping up his bag as he stood.

"No, I'm almost done too." Lucien's fingers glided across the keyboard. "Got a commission due at midnight. I'll head home right after this."

"Man, you keep this up and you're going to burn out," Neil said, slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder. "When was the last time you actually slept properly?"

"A while," Lucien replied with a weary smile. "But don't worry about me. Just go home. Hug your wife and enjoy your sweet dreams of this life."

Neil lingered at the edge of the cubicle, hesitating. He opened his mouth, closed it again, then let out a quiet sigh. "Alright, see you Monday. Don't die of exhaustion in here, okay?"

"I'm not making any promises."

The office door clicked shut.

Silence swallowed the room, broken only by the occasional mouse click and Lucien's muttered curses.

After a while, he exported the final file, uploaded it to the client portal, then slumped back in his chair with a heavy groan.

“Finally done with it.”

Lucien rubbed at his eyes, pressing his fingers in for a second before letting out a quiet breath. “At this rate, I might actually pay off Mom’s medical debt by the time I’m forty…” His lips curled into a dry, humorless smile. “Honestly, she’d probably hang herself if she knew how messed up this country’s healthcare system is.”

The thought sat heavy, but he didn’t linger on it. If there was any small mercy, it was that the debt collectors weren’t nearly as ruthless as the media made them out to be. In fact, they were oddly polite whenever they called. Still, that didn’t make the numbers any smaller. A debt was a debt—and his was anything but light.

Lucien exhaled softly and pushed himself up from his chair, rolling his shoulders to ease the stiffness. Grabbing his jacket, he shrugged it on and made his way toward the elevator with slow, dragging steps.

At this hour, the building felt like a tomb. The lights were still on, but there was no life behind them. There was supposed to be a security guard stationed near the entrance, though in Lucien’s experience, the man was usually slumped over the front desk, fast asleep.

He stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor. As the doors slid shut, his reflection stared back at him from the polished metal surface.

For a moment, he held his own gaze.

His face was narrow, his jaw faintly defined, cheekbones slightly pronounced. Dark circles lingered beneath his tired eyes, giving him a perpetually worn look, while his gaze itself seemed distant, as if it hadn’t quite caught up with him. A few strands of unkempt hair fell over his forehead, doing little to hide the fatigue etched into his features. His shirt was wrinkled from hours—fourteen, at least—spent hunched over his desk, the fabric creased and slightly untucked.

Look at that… I’m twenty-two and I already look like I’ve lost custody of my own happiness.

Lucien stared at his reflection a moment longer, one corner of his mouth twitching faintly in self-mockery.

Give it a few more years and I’ll probably forget what it even looked like.

He exhaled through his nose and gave a small shake of his head, as if trying to clear the thought away. Standing there and wallowing wasn’t going to fix anything.

The elevator doors slid open to the lobby with a soft chime. As he stepped out, he gave a half-hearted wave toward the front desk. The security guard remained slumped in his chair, fast asleep, not even twitching in response.

Lucien didn’t bother calling out. He pushed through the glass doors instead, the cool night air brushing against his face as he stepped outside.

The streets were nearly empty. Streetlights cast dull orange pools across the pavement, stretching long shadows along the deserted sidewalk and giving the area a faint, artificial sense of life.

As he walked, a convenience store caught his eye up ahead, its fluorescent lights stark against the darkness.

Haven’t eaten since morning, he muttered to himself, his stomach giving a faint, belated protest. Maybe I should grab some instant noodles.

As he walked toward it, he couldn't help but imagine how disappointed his mother would be if she saw what her beloved son was doing to himself.

With a quiet click of his tongue, he pulled out his phone, more out of habit than intent, and unlocked it to distract himself.

A string of notifications popped up, alerting him to new anime episodes, fresh manga chapters, and updates from the web novels he had been following. Just seeing them was enough to lift his mood.

The internet really is amazing, he thought, a faint smile forming. Why fix your life when you can just not think about it?

His thumb hovered as he scrolled, idly weighing what to watch or read first, until it slowed and stopped on a single notification.

“Eclipse of the Century! Where to Watch, When to Look, What to Expect!”

Lucien raised an eyebrow, the faint smile fading into mild curiosity.

It had come from one of those browsers that loved throwing out random pop-ups. He’d meant to disable it ages ago… and clearly never did.

Well... this one is an interesting news, though.

Lucien slowed his steps and tilted his head back, glancing up at the sky as curiosity edged out his fatigue. He’d never been particularly fascinated by celestial stuff, but he knew the basics. The moons were supposed to follow a fixed pattern—Vortuna, the silver one, highest in the sky; Astrofale, the crimson moon, trailing behind; and Nirotis, the black one, lingering farthest out, often barely visible.

Right now, though, the only one he could clearly see was Vortuna. Astrofale and Nirotis were nowhere in sight.

Has it already happened…?

He narrowed his eyes, searching for anything unusual. It would be underwhelming if this was all there was.

At first, nothing seemed out of place. The silver moon hung where it should, quiet and distant. But as he kept looking, his vision began to adjust, and something beneath the surface of that light came into focus.

Lucien’s brows pulled together.

What the hell is that...?

There were faint patterns that surfaced across it. They're not quite lines or symbols. If he had to describe them, they looked like interlocking rings that refused to stay circular, folding into sharp angles before smoothing out again. Grids stretched and compressed without breaking, as if space itself were being bent and recalculated. Fractals layered over one another, repeating without ever being identical, branching outward only to collapse inward at the same time.

His eyes narrowed further, a crease forming between his brows as he tried to make sense of it.

Is that some kind of optical illusion?

The patterns shifted again, more noticeably this time.

Lucien stilled.

…No, that actually moved.

A faint chill crept up his spine.

Suddenly, a mild dizziness hit him. It was like the ground had dropped out from under him even though he was still standing. His stomach lurched, his balance slipping for no clear reason.

What’s… happening to me?

His thoughts felt sluggish, as if they were dragging through something thick and heavy.

He tried to blink.

Nothing.

His eyes stayed wide, fixed on the sky.

He tried to move his hand.

Nothing.

A jolt of panic shot through his chest, his pulse spiking as his fingers refused to respond.

Why can’t I move?

His breathing hitched—at least, he thought it did. It was hard to tell. Even that felt distant, like his body wasn’t fully his anymore.

He forced himself to look away.

His gaze didn’t shift.

Why can’t I look away?!

The patterns shifted faster now, folding over each other, expanding in a way that made it feel like something was opening behind them.

What the hell is happening to me—

A translucent screen snapped into his vision, cutting across everything.

[Initializing Cycle…]

Lucien’s eyes twitched, panic flaring sharper.

Oh, come on—what kind of bullshit is—

[Soul Detected: Match Confirmed.]

His thoughts stumbled over themselves.

Match confirmed?! With what?! I didn’t sign up for anything!

The pulling sensation intensified. It was no longer subtle. It felt like something had latched onto him—not his body, but something deeper—and was dragging it upward.

No. No, no, no—this is bad.

[Analyzing… Analyzing…]

Stop analyzing me and let me move!

His thoughts stuttered as panic seeped in.

The patterns expanded, or maybe he was being pulled toward them. He couldn't tell anymore.

I don't like this—I really don't like this—

[Transmigration Protocol Underway.]

Trans—what?!

Cold dread flooded him.

Wait, wait, hold on—I'm not ready yet!

The sensation only intensified.

[Initiating…]

At least give me a second to—

His thoughts snapped mid-sentence.

The shifting patterns swallowed everything, folding inward as darkness surged up and took him whole.

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