[Man 1] "Why isn't this project finished yet? I expected it to be done by now!"

  [Man 2] "I'm sorry for being late. I tried to finish it on time, but I couldn't get the project done as I was supposed to."

  [Man 1] "I don't want excuses! I gave you a deadline, and because you didn't meet it, it caused big problems for the whole team. I need this project done as soon as possible."

  [Man 2] "Got it, sir. I made finishing the project my top priority from the start."

  [Man 1] "Stop wasting my time. I hired you to make money, not to make excuses. I want profits, not reasons."

  [Man 2] "Because of the poor market conditions, we were working on strategies to increase our revenue."

  [Man 1] "Strategies? I don’t want to hear about strategies. I want big profits! I don’t care about your excuses or the market conditions."

  He tapped the nameplate on the glass table in front of his employee, Francis Robert Lee, and introduced himself. "I am Brax Pizarro."

  Francis squinted at the nameplate, then looked at the person sitting in the boss's chair. With messy hair and simple clothes, this person confidently called himself Francis's boss. He looked back at the nameplate and quietly read the name on it: "G. Paul Harris."

  "Brax."

  "Brax."

  "Brax Pizarro.

  He suddenly woke up when someone shook him hard. His eyes struggled to open, and he saw a dark shape standing above him. At first, he was shocked, but then it started to feel more scary. The first thing he thought was that his friend looked like a giant bat... a real giant bat! His thoughts were interrupted when the figure spoke in a rough, sarcastic voice, "What did you dream about this time?"

  "Nothing," Brax groaned.

  "Nothing, huh? You always had nightmares before. This must be the first time you can't remember your dreams," Henry laughed.

  Henry leaned over Brax and rested his elbow on his bed. He was in his late thirties, with deep black eyes and messy light brown curls that partly covered his face. He was clean-shaven, with skin that was tanned from working in the tropics for many years. He wore loose, baggy blue jeans, a white button-up shirt, and a black blazer with silver studs on the collar and cuffs. His brown boots peeked out from under his clothes, making him look like he had just come from his night shift.

  "But why did you wake me up so early today? Did you not sleep well last night?" Brax asked, still feeling sleepy as he woke up and asked again.

  "Not really," Henry replied, showing his teeth in a grin.

  "The boss came and called you to his office," Henry explained.

  "Is he here?" Brax's eyes, which had been half-open, suddenly grew wide.

  "Yes, and he also had your file," Henry said with a grin, placing a hand on Brax's shoulder. "It looks like your loan will be approved this time."

  When Henry's words sank in, Brax suddenly felt a rush of excitement. The loan he had been anxiously waiting for, the one that could save his family, was going to be approved. A wave of relief washed over him, clearing away the months of stress that had been dragging him down. It felt easier now, less heavy. Henry noticed that Brax seemed too eager to hear good news, but he couldn't blame him. Brax had been waiting for this moment the whole time. They both knew all they could do now was wait for the final decision.

  Feeling hopeful, Brax quickly fixed his appearance, straightening his blue checkered shirt and fixing his wavy black hair as he headed to the boss's office. His mind was full of thoughts, making plans for how to use the loan.

  With his hand tightly gripping the doorknob, he looked at the nameplate on the door that read "G. Paul Harris." After knocking softly, he turned the handle and walked into the office.

  Boss Paul looked down at Brax through his glasses and motioned for him to come in. He was holding a file with Brax’s name written clearly on the cover.

  G. Paul Harris gave off an air of wealth and style, wearing a Dior watch that hinted at his affluence. He appeared to be at least 50 years old, with a few wrinkles around his eyes. He wasn’t one of those people who always wore plain black and white clothes like someone out of a painting.

  “Sir, is my loan approved?” Brax asked as soon as he walked in, eager for an answer.

  “I submitted your application to the chairman, but unfortunately, your loan was rejected again,” Paul replied.

  “But why, sir? I included all my hardships in the application; my mother is in the hospital right now, and...” Brax began, explaining his situation.

  “Lie!” Paul shouted, his voice rising. “You’re lying to us. Your mother died six years ago.”

  Brax looked at him in shock, the silence filling the room as he had no more words to say. He knew he had made a huge mistake by fabricating the story about his mother’s illness. Desperation had clouded his judgment, and now he had to face the consequences.

  Paul angrily tossed the loan file onto the glass table, his eyes glued to the computer screen in front of him. The light from the screen reflected off his face, showing his own stern reflection. His expression was far from happy, his lips pressed tightly together, signaling that he didn’t want to discuss the case any further. He always acted this way when one of his workers made a mistake—he’d get frustrated and say nothing.

  Brax picked up his file and walked out of the office, each step feeling heavier than the last. The weight of his failure seemed to grow with every step he took.

  "What happened? Did you get the loan?" Henry asked as he stepped out, but his words trailed off when he saw Brax's face.

  "Seriously, again? How many times have you tried? This G. Paul guy is something else," Henry muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.

  "It's okay," Brax replied, his voice trembling slightly. "I... I'm heading home now." He placed the file against Henry's chest and started gathering his things from the desk.

  Henry took the file and opened it, his eyes widening in shock at what he saw. "10 million?" he asked, looking at Brax, who stared ahead, lost in thought.

  “How were you planning to pay back such a big loan if you had gotten it?”

  Brax kept packing his things without saying anything. He didn’t answer Henry’s question. Even though he seemed calm, Henry could see his hands were shaking slightly.

  “What’s this?” Henry asked, picking up another paper from the file. “A letter saying you’re fired?” He sounded more angry than surprised about their boss, Paul.

  “How can he fire you just for asking for a loan? I’ll talk to him,” Henry said, walking toward the door. But Brax stopped him, grabbing his hand to stop him from leaving.

  “If you get involved, you’ll lose your job too, so just leave it alone.”

  “But let me talk to him,” Henry said, pulling his arm away from Brax.

  "Actually, it was my fault," Brax said, looking away.

  "Is it really your fault? How could it be?" Henry tried to look him in the eyes.

  "It's all my fault. I lied when I applied for the loan," Brax said quietly. He glanced at Henry again, who was looking at him with curiosity.

  "You did what?" Henry said, shocked.

  Brax took a deep breath before saying again, "I lied."

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  "You lied?" Henry repeated, his voice soft.

  Brax closed his lips tightly, not able to say it again.

  "Well, if you're not ready to talk about it, that's okay," Henry said, watching Brax for any signs of sadness or pain. "Go home and rest. Don’t worry too much. I’ll help you find another job."

  "Thanks for understanding," Brax said quietly.

  After leaving the office, Brax stood on the street for a while. When a taxi honked nearby, he jumped.

  "Where would you like to go, sir?" the taxi driver asked as Brax got into the back seat.

  "Take me home!" he said, settling into the taxi.

  "Of course, but where is your home?" the taxi driver asked, looking at him through the rearview mirror.

  "Eldoria," he replied with one word, then fell silent and stared out the window at the cars passing by. Each car reminded him of something from his past. It felt like bad luck had followed him his whole life. His parents, poor and struggling, could barely feed the family, let alone give him any special treatment or things. He was a quiet and shy child, often ignored by his classmates.

  They teased him all the time, and he felt alone. No matter how hard he tried, he could never fit in. As he got older, things only got worse. Six years ago, a fire destroyed their house, and his mother died in it.

  He remembered that day clearly, as the fire burned everything around them. Brax had tried to save their things, but it was hopeless. The fire took not only their belongings but also his wife’s trust in him. She blamed him for the fire, for their bad luck, and for everything that went wrong. Brax felt guilty. His father’s gambling had left them in debt, and he had taken a loan he couldn’t pay back.

  The weight of his mistakes crushed him, making him feel trapped and hopeless. He felt stuck, like the world was moving on while he was left in this dark place.

  Today was his daughter’s fourth birthday, but he had never heard her voice or met her. The only pictures he had of her were the ones his wife sent, which he thought were just to get money from him.

  His wife wanted a divorce, but it had been messy. They blamed each other, and it felt like they were throwing hurtful words at each other. In all the fighting, his daughter became a pawn in their game. Brax was terrified. He couldn’t stand the idea of his daughter being used like that. She deserved a happy, free life, not this chaos. He knew life wasn’t perfect, but he wanted to give her some stability and security, even if it meant sacrificing everything himself.

  When he got home, he heard the phone ringing nonstop, meaning it had been ringing for a while. He quickly put his bag and files down and picked up the phone. “Hello,” he answered.

  A young girl’s voice came through. “Hey, who am I speaking to?”

  Brax was caught off guard. He replied, “Hello,” and then said, “Please talk to me, daughter.”

  His voice sounded tired and desperate, not too old, but like he hadn’t slept in days—or maybe he’d just received bad news. “Please talk to me, I’m your father,” he added, trying to explain. There was a buzz on the other end of the line. It sounded like she was being hurt.

  “Are you okay?” Brax asked, his voice trembling with fear and anger. He held the phone tighter, feeling helpless and distant from her. She must have been hurt badly. “What happened? Are you hurt? Where are you? Did she hurt you?” He kept asking, even though he knew he was rambling. Her crying grew louder, and it was harder to hear her words.

  There was a pause on the line before a woman's voice spoke. "...hello, it's me..." It sounded like she had grabbed the phone from someone else. "Hello, Brax? Can you hear me?"

  “Yes, I can hear you,” he replied, trying to keep his voice calm so his daughter wouldn’t get scared. He looked at the clock on the wall, worried about the time. It had only been about ten minutes since he got home. "Is there something you need?"

  "Has the money been arranged?" she asked seriously.

  "Yes, but it's a small amount. I’ll take care of the rest," Brax said, trying to reassure her.

  "How much money?" she asked.

  "$200," Brax answered, his voice heavy with stress.

  "Only $200?" His wife, Fiona, reacted harshly, "Did your mother send the rest from above? Or did your father leave anything behind?"

  "Fiona, please don’t say it like that. I’m managing…" Brax tried to explain.

  "The day after tomorrow is the deadline. Don’t you remember your daughter is starting school now? You have until tomorrow to act fast," Fiona said, speaking down to him.

  Fiona Blackwood was a pretty but smart woman in her late twenties. She had honey-brown hair tied in a ponytail, bright blue eyes, an athletic body, and fair skin. She also had a small gap in her lower lip, like she was about to smile or laugh.

  "Listen Fiona!" Brax said quickly. "Before you hang up, let me talk to my daughter one more time. It’s her fourth birthday today. Please, let me hear her voice. I just want to wish her a happy birthday and tell her I love her," he said, his voice full of sadness.

  "Why? What have you done in your life that makes you think you should talk to her? What are you going to show her?" Fiona said, her words slurring. "You're such a pathetic excuse for a father."

  Brax felt his heart drop when he heard her words, but he refused to let her break him. He knew he had made mistakes, but he was determined to fix them.

  "I know I've made mistakes, Fiona. But I'm working on changing. I want to be there for our daughter and be the father she deserves," he said, his voice full of determination.

  Fiona laughed in a mocking way. "Change? Do you really think you can change everything overnight? It’s too late, Brax. You’ve already lost your chance to be a good father."

  "Please, just tell me her name," Brax begged, his voice full of desperation. "I have the right to know my daughter’s name, don’t I?"

  Fiona laughed sarcastically but stopped when Brax cut in. "I would never hurt my child, Fiona! That’s something you’ll never understand!"

  "Then do something to fix it," Fiona snapped. "She doesn’t even know if she has a father, so don’t try to reach out to her. And yes, get the money by tomorrow," she ended the call quickly, making sure to hang up loudly.

  "She doesn’t even know if she has a father," Fiona’s words kept echoing in Brax’s mind. Only he understood the pain those words caused.

  “I won’t give up until she knows who I am!” he thought, frowning. He put the phone down, turned away, and grabbed his hair. It felt like invisible weights were crushing him. He closed his eyes, breathing through clenched teeth.

  He sat alone in his small, dim apartment, feeling trapped by his sadness. The walls seemed to close in on him, just like the depression that weighed down his heart. He took out his phone and stared at pictures of his daughter, tears filling his eyes as he wished he could hold her, hear her laugh, and be part of her life.

  He locked his phone and set it down beside him, the screen glowing softly. Without realizing it, a message notification appeared, lighting up the screen. It was from his soon-to-be ex-wife, Fiona Blackwood.

  "Happy Birthday, my little princess. I hope you don’t end up with the same fate as your father," the message read.

  Tears filled his eyes as he read her words. The thought of his daughter growing up without him, and the fear that she might have the same bad luck he did, hit him hard. He held his phone tightly, feeling a mix of anger, sadness, and helplessness. He lay there, staring blankly ahead, as tears streamed down his face.

  Suddenly, another notification popped up on his phone. Devastated, he grabbed it, hoping it was a picture of his daughter. But it wasn’t. It was just a message with a "tap to open it" notification.

  He hesitated but eventually opened it, his mind blank. As he expected, it wasn’t a picture of his daughter. It was a strange message from an unknown number. He quickly read it: "As the stars align, and the moon bears witness, I slip through the seams of reality, a traveler of the soul."

  [System Alert: Host Acquired...]

  [Wish Command Initiated!]

  [Your soul has been successfully transmigrated to the Parallel World.]

  [Welcome, Traveler!]

  [Prepare to navigate the complexities of this new reality. Your choices will shape the outcome of your journey.]

  [Mission Briefing: Uncover the Secrets of the System and Master Your Destiny!]

  [Are you ready to embrace your fate?]

  [Status: Awaiting Commands...]

  [What will you do next?]

  [1. Explore your surroundings] [2. Seek allies] [3. Confront your past] [4. Harness your powers]

  [Choose wisely, for each decision alters your path.]

  A voice called out, and something appeared in front of him, but he ignored it, closing his eyes in frustration. He opened his phone’s photo album to look at pictures of his daughter. A wave of dizziness hit him, probably from being so tired. All he wanted was to sleep. He drifted off, still staring at his daughter’s picture, too tired to remember to lock the phone.

  The next afternoon, Henry rang the doorbell, but no one answered.

  "He’s not home," a voice said from behind him. Henry turned to see who it was.

  "Even the newspaper and milkman came this morning and rang the bell, but Brax didn’t answer," a neighbor, who seemed to know Henry, said. "He must have gone somewhere. You should try calling him."

  "Thanks," Henry said loudly to the neighbor as he left. He took out his phone and dialed Brax's number. After a few seconds, he heard the phone ringing from inside the house. Quickly, Henry ended the call, put the phone back in his pocket, and started entering the password to unlock the door.

  When Henry entered, he found Brax lying on the floor, holding his phone with his daughter’s picture on the screen.

  Henry took a deep breath and looked at his own phone. He carefully took Brax’s phone from his hand and locked it. “I’m glad I found you at home,” he said as he poured a glass of water. “I have great news! I told someone about your job, and guess what? They said yes!”

  Henry was excited and couldn’t hide it. “Remember the article I wrote about your amazing photography skills? Well, I sent it to a big magazine called 'Capture the World,' and they loved it! They want to hire you as their lead photographer! But… Brax, are you listening?” he asked, shaking him.

  But Brax didn’t respond. “Brax…Brax…Oh no!” Henry quickly called for an ambulance and rushed Brax to the hospital.

  “I’m sorry, but he passed away 24 hours ago. The heart attack was very severe and caused instant death,” The doctor told Henry.

  Henry couldn’t believe it. He felt his heart drop. Losing his best friend hit him hard. Memories of their fun times, laughter, and deep talks flooded his mind. It was hard to accept the sad truth. He felt a mix of grief, anger, and guilt.

  He blamed himself for not being there when Brax needed him most. He wondered, "Could I have done something to save him? Did I miss the signs of the heart attack?" The guilt weighed heavily on him.

  Days turned into weeks as he tried to accept the loss. He took care of his friend’s funeral, surrounded by people who shared their memories of Brax. They comforted him and reminded him that he wasn’t alone.

  After a month, Henry went to Brax’s old home to find anything important to give to his ex-wife. While looking through things, he found a letter hidden under a photo of Brax’s daughter. He opened it and read:

  "I wish I could live a life with my family. A life where I’m not weighed down by bad luck. A life where I can know my daughter’s name."

  Henry’s eyes filled with tears as he read the heartfelt words. He felt deep sadness and regret for what Brax had been through.

  The letter continued, "I feel so guilty. The anger between us made me forget how much I loved my daughter. I didn’t show her all the sacrifices I made or the pain I felt. I regret everything. I let my fears and bad luck destroy my family, and now my daughter will grow up without her father."