Huff, puff.

  Circles of smoke floated up towards the evening sky, dimly bathed in the setting sun's light. The young man leaning on the rooftop's ledge sighed, before taking another drag of his cigarette.

  Large eyebags adorned his tired eyes, looking down at the busy street, the bustling population seeming like ants going to and fro the anthill from that perspective.

  It was a long way down, if he slipped from that spot, at least a few of those ants would find themselves bathed red, he thought.

  Chuckling at his own grim thought, and to avoid that hypothetical from becoming reality, his back would be put towards the ledge, instead of leaning into it with his chest. From his pocket, his phone buzzed.

  Lifting up towards his face, the electrical light greeted him, a few notifications which he wasn't interested in popping up. He ignored them, instead staring at the time indicated on the screen. He had been out for five minutes.

  He clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Chet. I barely lit this one, and they're already asking me to come back in…”. Breathing in some more smoke, he could feel like his lungs were on fire, coughing a few times. For some reason, he enjoyed that.

  Truth be told, even if it had only been five minutes, his workplace didn't exactly allow smoke breaks. He had to sneak off to the rooftop of the company's building every time he wanted to light up a cigarette, and even then, most of his superiors knew what he was up to.

  The only reason why he was allowed to do so was the difference in capability between the young man and his colleagues, he was too valuable to be fired for going out for five minutes every few hours.

  The identification badge pinned to his chest glimmered, thanks to the phone's screen light: [Arthur Luria, 25, M. Werners Lead De…]

  By now, that position had changed a few times, thanks to the occasional promotion. Promotions he had to work hard for, despite his natural talent.

  Those eyebags and the permanent drowsiness in his body were proof of that, visible signs of all the hours he had spent working overtime instead of resting. The saving grace of that job, working in one of the biggest software designing companies in the country, was that he could at least work from home when he needed to.

  His phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn't a message urging him to go back to his office, but someone else. Someone he knew since their university days, who happened to be working under him at the moment.

  [“Hello, Herr Luria! I started writing that webnovel I was talking to you about, think you can give it a look?”]

  [Attached: prologue.txt]

  That guy, he always messaged him for the stupidest reasons. Even then, he much preferred going along with that guy's idiocy, rather than being bothered about someone needing help with their job, or having a scheduled appointment.

  Damn near every week, he received messages about a new novel idea, or similar projects, which never got finished. That friend had a lot of creativity, but couldn't follow something to the end most of the time.

  Still, Arthur didn't dislike reading, especially when he knew he could use that material to tease the other later on. He opened the text file, not bothered by the passing time, and read through the first sentence.

  [‘Wherever there's a light, a shadow must also be cast.’]

  —

  “Have a good night, Lead Developer, sir!”

  His office had every light turned off, and he was busy packing up the few things he brought with him to work. That day's work was over, he could head back home. On the way out, his juniors greeted him with smiles and respect, which he didn't bother figuring out how genuine they were.

  He disliked that job. He disliked the company, he disliked the ambience, he disliked the teams, he disliked his colleagues. However, to him, it was easy, and the pay was good enough to live comfortably, for now.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

  The lower ranked worker in front of Arthur smiled at him, clearly a forced smile. Hidden behind that expression, resentment and jealousy were baring their fangs at him. He was probably thinking how ‘if that damned brat hadn't come along, I would have been Lead Developer right now’, or something along those lines.

  However, what he showed on the outside was a friendly smile, the absence of any warmth whatsoever quite noticeable. By now, he was used to this, it was part of the reason why he disliked that job.

  He simply nodded his head with a grateful look upon his face, repeating the same words to the junior whose name he didn't bother reading on the ID. Even if he did, he'd forget that name more sooner than later, he figured.

  He was fine with being perceived like that by his colleagues, it didn't matter too much to him. Inside that building, he was the ‘Lead Developer’. All that jealousy, envy and resentment wasn't aimed at Arthur Luria, the person, but at the Lead Developer, Herr Luria of Werners.

  Inversely, when he stepped out of that building, the worth of ‘Lead Developer Luria’ disappeared, leaving him only as Arthur Luria. He lit up a cigarette, warming himself, if slightly. It was a funny thought, in some ways.

  He only had worth when working, his worth came from being the ‘Lead Developer’. However, others' anger and jealousy was also only directed to the ‘Lead Developer’. Then, was there any proof that Arthur Luria wasn't just that, the ‘Lead Developer’? Was there any proof that he wasn't anything more than his position?

  “What a bunch of bullshit.”

  He muttered to himself, breathing out a small cloud of smoke. Seeing himself as only a ‘position’, seeing himself only as his ‘talent’, that was a bad habit he had gained over the course of his life.

  A golden child, a genius of engineering, the prodigy of Werners. He was given those titles, complimented by anyone that saw themselves as inferior to him, but he found no happiness in having to hold those titles.

  Still, no one would care about what he wanted, that just isn't how life works. The tip of the cigarette burned brightly, its length shortening with a breath. Walking down the streets of his city towards the apartment complex he lived in, he produced his phone from a pocket.

  Without even noticing, he found himself opening the text file he had received again, scrolling through the paragraphs and reading. The light bounced off of him, illuminating his tired face. Despite the electrical source, it wasn't straining on his eyes, at all. Or rather, he was willing to keep his eyes open, just to keep reading.

  Surprisingly, this was good. Usually, that friend had good ideas and concepts, but couldn't quite put them into words properly. This time, he was actually interested in the novel, it had some good hooks even for a prologue.

  Going back to the messaging app, he strung a few words together, a compliment as honest as he was able to make it.

  [“good”]

  [“keep at it”]

  Even in person, he was bad at talking to people, especially at his workplace. A result of only seeing himself, and his colleagues, as positions, rather than people. He only said what needed to be said, and kept the minimal greetings and words of goodbyes.

  When speaking over a phone, it was even worse. He didn’t dislike speaking with that friend, but he just wasn't good at conveying his thoughts through words, either. The other would understand, that was a pretty big compliment coming from Arthur.

  Sometimes, when he read webnovels or the occasional book, he fantasized what it would be like to live in one such world. An irregular world, full with magic and mysteries, where the logic that deemed him a ‘genius’ wouldn't hold up in the slightest.

  He wished to live as a human, but instead, found himself as being nothing more than one of the many ants. An ant slightly faster or stronger than the average ones, but in the end, still an ant.

  Would an ant be able to decide its own fate? Would an ant be able to do anything, apart from following the orders it's given, to follow a predetermined path? Would an ant be able to free itself from the shackles of expectation?

  He looked down at the streets, spreading out in every direction. At such a late hour, there weren't many people walking around, apart from himself. And he had found himself going back to the company's rooftop.

  As much as he disliked that company, he found comfort in that specific spot. The cigarette in his mouth had gone out already, he had to put it out to avoid triggering any smoke alarms while sneaking into the building.

  Perhaps the tiredness was making him act in a more stupid way than usual. Instead of simply leaning on the edge, he'd sit on the metal railing, his legs pointed towards the void beneath him. He chuckled. If he slipped from there, there wouldn't be any ants to stain red. But maybe, even leaving a mark on the world itself, rather than on those powerless ants, would be better than to keep living like that.

  “… Nah, no way in hell. I'm too much of a coward.”

  Even a miserable life was better than not living. He sighed, looking at the streets beneath him. Still, it would be pretty nice, living in a world like the ones in the fantasy novels he sometimes read.

  [Is that your wish?]

  “Huh?”

  He looked behind himself. He was sure he heard something. A voice, speaking to him, in a low tone of voice.

  [Do you wish for another's life?]

  Right in front of his eyes, something impossible was happening. A voice, taking the shape of letters forming sentences in thin air. Words written with the sound of an unrecognizable voice. The written words sounded like a voice, and the voice was taking the shape of letters.

  “What the hell…?”

  Was he finally going insane, thanks to the lack of sleep? Was that an hallucination? Some sort of complicated prank? No, something inside him told him whatever was happening, was happening in reality. Something defying every logic.

  [Answer me. Do you wish to live another's life?]

  He didn't know what was happening. He didn't know what, or who, those words were. And yet, that voice caused something to spark in him. A flame which he couldn't identify just yet, prompting him to answer.

  “What, what do you mean, live another's life…”

  Normally, any ordinary person would freak out and try to figure out the source of that voice, instead of conversing with it. But Arthur could feel something drawing him in, something urging him to understand the meaning of that sentence.

  [You shall live another's life. That is your wish, and the punishment for your desire, Arthur …]

  A pain suddenly spiking in his head dazed him. A headache so strong he couldn't even properly understand those written sentences any longer, nor could he read that voice. It felt as if his head was being split into a thousand fragments.

  His vision was getting blurry, his body was growing weaker. He could feel the pain spreading throughout the entirety of his body, as if every single nerve was being stabbed with needles and his skin was being torn apart by razors.

  His body soon hit the floor of the rooftop, slumped over with no strength remaining to lift himself up. That pain was only increasing and changing, it felt like being torn to shred and burnt to ashes at the same time. From underneath his skin, d

  im light spread out.

  The voice spoke out with a smile.

  [Be born, Arthur.]

  And then, Arthur Luria blacked out.