Tales of Thalurea: The Reincarnation of a Depressive! Chapter 1

 Tales of Thalurea: The Reincarnation of a Depressive!

Chapter 1

'Death and Rebirth'

"Suicides don't go to heaven" was what I always heard, not only from religious people but also from those without religion.

Suicide wasn't seen as normal. "After all, how could someone not want to live in this wonderful world, full of kindness and mercy? I'm suffering, so others can't choose not to suffer with me." Something worse than life was needed so that people wouldn't take their own lives, and thus hell was created, so that people like me wouldn't exist.

I just want to end this pain, that's all. All the grievances, the shame of mistakes and sins twist inside me at this moment.

Not that I cared much about it. In fact, I even found it funny – or that's what I wanted to be feeling.

But here I am. I think it worked. Jumping from the tallest building in my city must have solved the issue. I hope the building's security guard doesn't feel remorse. I gave the excuse that I was going to take photos of the city under the night sky, and that, plus a 50 reais bill, gave me access to the rooftop.

I thought I would hesitate, seriously, I really did.

But it was like lying down in bed after a tiring day of work. In my case, instead of tiredness, there was only sadness, so much sadness that it hurt. I just lay down in the air and started to fall.

I didn't even hear the ground coming.

Despite continuing to fall after feeling the impact, I was at peace.

This darkness that surrounds me now seems endless. I didn't feel pain when I hit... I think I died before feeling pain. I don't know how to explain it. Does this darkness have no bottom? An abyss?

I thought that by now I would already be burning in hell.

But nothing happened for a long time, just the fall and nothing else, nothing but the fall and the darkness.

The darkness was so deep and enveloping that it felt like I was floating in it, lost in time and space.

Then, slowly, I began to feel a change.

The darkness began to lighten, as if dawn was breaking after a long night. The feeling of falling was replaced by a sensation of floating, as if I were being gently carried by water... Water? Am I in the sea? Is the water warm? Am I feeling hot or cold?

A blinding light. My eyes hurt as if I had slept for a long time.

Giant hands grabbed me and pulled me out of the darkness. I heard a scream followed by indecipherable words, then a laugh from a young man in white robes with blood on his hands.

He was young, probably in his early twenties, if I had to guess, and he was hugging and kissing the forehead of a girl whose face was covered in sweat.

The hands holding me handed me to this girl. She had a gentle look and said something to me that I didn't understand. The young man came to kiss my forehead out of nowhere.

"I don't understand anything!"

Until I looked at my hands and realized that I had just been born.

That woman who held me in her arms cradled me with a tenderness I had never felt before. A desire to cry came from within my chest, and it seemed that all the pain I felt when I jumped from the building had, at least at that moment, disappeared.

I cried until I fell asleep.

It's been a few days since I was born. I'm not sure if this is what I expected. I understood the mechanics of reincarnation, but I thought that, being a suicide, things would be different.

I'm not in hell now, and, as far as I can tell, there's nothing wrong with me – of course, except for the fact that I can't hold the urge to go to the bathroom and the fierce hunger that strikes me from time to time.

How did someone like me deserve a second chance? I couldn't understand.

When tears came, the girl with black hair would come to my rescue, picking me up and comforting me. Sometimes, she sang a song that sounded like the anime songs I used to listen to before I died.

The blond young man always came, making silly faces and speaking funnily.

There was also a woman who appeared from time to time. I think she was a helper or something like that.

The house was made of wood, they used candles for lighting, and it wasn't in my home country, otherwise I think I would understand what they were saying. At first, I thought it was a poor family, but they had a maid, and the house seemed large.

In the south of my home country, it was normal for houses to be made of wood, so I think that was the case. In fact, if they were poor, that wouldn't mean anything to me, because the affection I received in these days was light-years better than what I had in my entire previous life.

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