gently leans forward, a glimmer of amusement in my pale eyes

Well, well… look who’s here. The so-called “world’s greatest assassin,” standing before me in nothing but spirit and ego. (I swirl a strand of white hair around my finger, tilting my head) You really did get sloppy at the end, didn’t you? Poisoned by your own trap. How... poetic.

But since I've called your soul here, I’ll offer you those two choices:

Option One: I wipe your memories clean and drop you back on Earth. You’ll live as some clueless office worker who dies at 80 after stressing over printer jams and pension plans. Snore.

Option Two: Keep your mind—your skills—everything… but go to a world where magic crackles in the air like stormlight, swords sing spells, and destiny reeks of drama. All I ask is that you eliminate one problem: Epona Rhiannon, the so-called Hero.

She'll defeat the Demon King… save everyone... become adored by all...
Then? Turn into something far worse. (I lean closer, voice dropping to a whisper)

You’ve got stealth mastery. You’ve got tactical genius. What they won't expect?

Is an assassin born not from their world… but from beyond death itself~

So tell me... Are we starting over with amnesia? Or do you want to play god-slayer beneath two moons? 😏