Someone dear to me once said:
"Happiness is a silent right that life grants to every soul."
Every human has a soul… so every human deserves happiness.
Then why have I never had it?
If that right is denied to me,
it must mean I'm not human.
A young man with messy silver hair sat on the floor, his head resting between his knees. Flames were slowly devouring the room. Smoke thickened around him, but he remained still—lost in thought.
His name was Kenshin Ishikawa, son of Rei Ishikawa, CEO of the Tenkai Group, ranked among the world's top twenty corporations by the United Nations.
But Rei wasn't just an industrial titan.
He had once been the mayor of Tokyo, a bestselling author, and the writer of over 115 self-help e-books, translated and published across the globe.
And yet…
— "You left me alone… And even so, you had the nerve to say that everyone deserves happiness…"
His voice was calm. Too calm.
His gaze, empty—almost detached from reality.
Strange… for someone surrounded by flames.
Ken slowly turned his head toward the window.
He was clearly several floors up.
— "I guess the fire department won't make it in time."
Since his father's death, he had secluded himself in this remote countryside villa, far from everything.
— "Sigh… Doesn't matter. It's better this way."
A wry smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
— "At least I'll finally be able to join you… and punch you in the gut."
The ceiling was beginning to collapse.
Air was growing scarce.
The smoke was giving way to flames.
Still, Ken remained composed. As if the fire didn't exist.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He turned it on without a word.
For a moment, it looked like he was going to call for help.
But he didn't.
Instead, he opened his file manager, scrolled down… and stopped at a folder named:
"For my son."
He tapped it.
Inside: 117 PDF files.
The books his father had published during his lifetime.
Not a bad place to read them... here, in the middle of the flames.
A faint smirk tugged at his lips—barely noticeable.
Ken was used to reading his father's books.
Over the past year, he had already read 116 out of 117.
And yet, he had never opened the last one.
He had never found the courage.
That file had always been there—stored safely on the memory card his father had given him long before his death.
But unlike the others, this one had never been published.
Which meant… it had been written only for him.
— "I still remember the dumb way he said it: 'It's the greatest gift I could ever give you.'"
Coming from an ordinary man, it might've sounded cliché.
But from a billionaire…
A former mayor of Tokyo…
A world-renowned author…
Those words carried a different weight.
Or at least, that's what Ken had believed.
The file, simply named "117.pdf", didn't even have a title.
With a sigh—still expressionless, despite the inferno engulfing him—he tapped the screen.
— "Let's see what this great gift really is..."
The PDF opened.
At the top of the screen, a strange title appeared in bold capital letters:
"WORLD SYSTEM"
— "World System? What the hell is that?"
Clearly, it wasn't a self-help book.
And that, at least, was a relief.
He scrolled down… and found a line in bold:
"Instructions: Choose one skill."
A slight smirk appeared again.
— "Huh? What kind of joke is this…?"
None of it made any sense.
— "Whatever… let's see."
He kept scrolling slowly, still calm, even as flames were now licking the walls all around him.
— "What?!"
For the first time in hours, Ken's eyes widened.
A flicker—subtle, but real—lit up in his gaze.
His lips trembled. His throat tightened.
— "This… this has to be a joke!"
He kept scrolling—and more strange lines began to appear, one after another:
Master Chef
Expert Hacker
Professional Translator
He frowned, then began scrolling faster—almost frantically.
But the pages just kept coming…
More and more…
1,500 pages.
From the first to the last—filled with skills, abilities, and professions of every kind imaginable.
"Hahaha… Haha… HAHAHAHA!"
His laughter exploded—loud, unhinged.
He placed a hand on his forehead, a gesture that clashed violently with the scene around him: flames, debris, and thick black smoke swallowing the room.
"Yeah, Dad… this really is the best gift you could've given me…"
He kept laughing.
But behind that laugh… there was something else.
Sadness.
Anger.
Maybe even… madness.
Silent tears began sliding down his cheeks.
"My existence really… means nothing," he murmured, his eyes void of light.
His father's final gift…
It was a joke.
A prank no one would dare play—not even on a child.
"Even my own father hated me, huh?"
His eyes remained empty, yet a faint smile still pulled at the corners of his lips.
Then, he remembered the message that had appeared earlier:
"Instructions: Choose a skill."
"Might as well play along…"
After all, nothing mattered anymore.
When you're about to die, even nonsense becomes acceptable.
He scrolled back up the file randomly and stopped at a line:
Ant Tamer (Elite level)
"Hahaha! That's a thing? Seriously?!"
Ken burst out laughing—truly laughing this time.
A ridiculous, desperate… freeing laugh.
"Hmm… Not a bad way to go, laughing like this."
But then, his eyes caught the next line.
And his expression shifted.
Close Quarters Combat Expert
He squinted.
Placed a hand under his chin, intrigued.
"CQC… That rings a bell…"
Hmmm…
Curious, Ken opened his browser. He'd heard the acronym before but couldn't recall from where.
Maybe Google would jog his memory.
He typed into the search bar: [What is CQC?]
The answer popped up immediately:
> CQC (Close Quarters Combat) is a method of hand-to-hand combat in confined spaces.
It combines melee techniques, disarming tactics, and close-range firearm use.
Practiced by military forces, law enforcement, and sometimes in self-defense,
it requires precision, speed, and a cool head.
"Ah, right!" he remembered. "That Korean movie Yuri loved so much… The main actor was a beast when it came to action sequences. He said he practiced CQC."
The moves were flashy, explosive… but could they really be done in real life?
"Haha… Just movie skills, huh?"
Meanwhile, the flames crept closer. In less than a minute, Ken would be reduced to ashes.
Facing death with a bitter smile, he muttered what seemed to be his last words:
"I'll pick that skill… Haha… If I could have it in hell, I'd kick that shitty father's ass…"
And with a gesture that felt almost absurd, he tapped the link:
[Expert CQC]
That should've been his final act. The fire was about to swallow everything—him included.
That's what was supposed to happen.
What a pathetic life.
But suddenly…
> [Congratulations. You have acquired the skill: "Exp
ert CQC (permanent)"]
End of free trial period
Ken fell backward, hitting a table behind him.
That message… it wasn't from the phone.
It was literally floating in front of his eyes. Like a hologram suspended in the air.