MasukSelena Collins leads an unremarkable life or so she believes. As an overworked and underpaid secretary at Vermillion Cyberspace, she’s long accepted the monotony of her days and the brooding presence of her enigmatic boss, Theo van Gogh. But everything changes the moment she collapses from exhaustion and hits her head on his desk. Upon waking up in the hospital, she begins seeing things that shouldn’t exist... ghosts, demons, angels, and creatures that seem far too aware of her presence. Then comes the impossible. Theo visits her with a revelation that completely made her brain reboot. Theo isn’t just her boss now. He’s her familiar. And Selena—confused, concussed, and utterly unprepared—is the next chosen successor of a forgotten land god. Theo bows 90 degrees, coldly defiant. "I do not acknowledge you as my master. So if you die in the process of completing your missions, it would bring me joy." Now thrust into a world where mythology bleeds into modernity and ancient contracts awaken from dormancy, Selena must uncover why she was chosen and survive long enough to earn her own name in a realm that remembers everything.
Lihat lebih banyakSelena didn’t know how long it had been since Theo, with all the grace of a gremlin godparent, grabbed her by the arm and hurled her face-first through a magical door like he was tossing a sack of mildly cursed potatoes. Now here she was—cheek smushed against the dusty, mossy floor of what looked like a half-abandoned temple from a low-budget horror film. Her dignity had clearly been left behind somewhere between the ER and whatever cursed GPS coordinates this shrine belonged to. “Make this shrine beautiful when I get back,” Theo had declared earlier, hands on his hips like a self-righteous homeowner handing renovation duties to a stray cat. He gave the collapsing pillars and rain-leaking roof a once-over with a face that screamed yikes. “This used to be a magical shrine. That was before Nexus went AWOL. His power maintained this whole place, and now that you’re almost officially the land god, you must do your job like Nexus did.” And just like that—poof—he vanished. Mid-s
"Oh my god?! You really did that?!" Nezumi yelped from behind Selena, gripping Ericka’s arm like she was bracing for a natural disaster. Ericka’s eyes were wide, mouth slightly agape. She looked halfway between bolting out the door and calling security. Selena didn’t even need to look at them. She could already see their ghost-pale expressions in her mind. That wide-eyed, silent horror that screamed “you’re so fired” louder than any hospital intercom ever could. Of course they were pale. Because who in their right mind punches a CEO? A CEO who—judging by the freshly acquired bruise on the floor—might also be a warlock or demigod or whatever he called himself these days. But did Selena care? Yes. Yes, she did. Because heaven knows if she could get another job fast. Her last gig expired with her dignity, and her foster parents? They’d probably change the locks now. Especially since her oh-so-perfect foster sister had just moved back in with five screaming children and a full
"W-Why are you here?!" Selena swallowed, her voice brittle with confusion and disbelief. Theo only blinked in response—slowly, deliberately—as though the act of acknowledging her existence required tremendous effort. She could see it plainly now: the war going on behind his eyes. His body was rigid, posture tense, like a tightly wound spring threatening to snap at any moment. Every muscle in his frame screamed that he wanted to bolt from the room, and yet… he didn’t. He stayed. And he looked so strained sitting beside her, as though invisible chains were coiled around his limbs, binding him to that awful hospital chair like some cursed penitent. His jaw was clenched. His arms were crossed too tightly. His gaze drifted to the floor, then to the IV stand, then anywhere but her face. Selena was about to ask more—demand something, maybe—when a glint of color caught her peripheral vision. She turned her head slowly, carefully, and her breath caught. Beside the bed, the table was drown
There was nothing. Just darkness. And cold—sharp, needling cold that crept in like a bad draft. Selena would’ve shivered if she had a body. That was the first clue something wasn’t quite right. Still, one thing confirmed she probably wasn’t dead: her head throbbed like hell. It wasn’t the dull kind of ache either. No, this one stabbed, twisted, pulsed. If she were alive, she'd be whining dramatically and demanding painkillers from someone by now. So naturally, she tried to reach for it, instinctively lifting her hand to press against her skull. Except—she didn’t have hands. Or arms. Or, apparently, even a head to clutch that her non-existent brows furrowed. “Oh. Of course. Must be a nightmare,” she muttered. Strangely, her voice echoed as though it floated somewhere outside her—not from her mouth, but from a memory of what speaking felt like. And that’s when she really started to panic. Was this purgatory? Limbo? Some celestial waiting room for people who died confused?






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