All his life, he suffered the most, from an abuser of a father and a despiser of a mother, resulting in their neglectful parenthood that caused him to never believe in such a word called love. After his father left and his mother was gone, he was living in a world filled with debts from the ones who abandoned him, and thus, being the one who had to pay for them. How would he even do so?
He stopped schooling.
He couldn't even eat three times a day.
Nor could he even have a wage, for no one had ever employed him apparently.
He was penniless at a young age, and could not even live as a beggar, but had to try and sell things that were left at their home for a year until nothing was left.
Even debtors could not collect a home that was almost as good as wrecked, and the land's worth was not even half of what his parents owed.
They wanted him to suffer.
To blame him for being born.
To make him be guilty of being alive.
So much for being adored.
And so, what on earth was this panel doing in front of him?
Some system window he could not even touch nor remove, as it kept on displaying words that were strange to him.
「Ding!」
Unfortunately, another panel appeared, different from the ones that appeared before.
「 Stabilizing Soul Reconstitution [■■■■■■■■■■] 100% 」
Lovemir felt his body weaken, his eyes dizzying.
「 Forcing Heartbeat Restoration [■■■■■■■■■■] 100% 」
He felt the thud of his heart go from getting louder by the minute to a weaker but normal trance.
「 Suspending Mortality Protocol [■■■■■■■■■■] 100% 」
Then, some strange artificial voice bombarded his mind.
[What is love, and what do you follow the most?]
[Is it a feeble feeling, or far stronger than a sensation?]
Am I now hearing things? His mind seemed to crack by the great tremor of such a booming sound resonating within him.
[Love is love, but at what cost would it get you?]
[Apostle, acknowledge your God.]
Lovemir screamed in pain as he tried to grip the soil, his bruised hands getting dirtied once more.
[You are therefore the Apostle of Love!]
[Rise now as the Pragma Matchmaker!]
"Ah!" Lovemir clenched his jaw as he felt his body almost explode, his sight seeing flickering lights before him as if something was happening inside him.
Sweat began to nudge his forehead, his lips paling, his throat drying.
His eyes began to whiten, and his hair began to become long, curly brown, now down to his shoulders.
Veins appeared on his hands then his neck, as his velvety white skin seemed to carry a sickening blush, and before he knew it, he rasped for air, his breath running as if he were to run for his life.
How much longer must he endure?
What the hell was the Apostle of Love?
Or even a Pragma Matchmaker?
He was utterly confused!
「 ACCUMULATING THE STARTER PACK DATA... 」
「 Accumulating TIER... [■■■■■■■■■■] 100% 」
「 Tier Result: TIER III (Elite Class) 」
He tried to control his breathing as several more panels appeared before his eyes.
「 Accumulating CLASS... [■■■■■■■■■■] 100% 」
「 Class Result: GUNSLINGER 」
Elite Class? Gunslinger? What absurdity! He was supposed to freaking die, so why was such a display seemingly making an idiot out of him?
Lovemir was not as naive. He knew exactly what these were for, as he saw these panels in some games he noticed on advertisements, especially novels and games that were some sort of trend nowadays. What he did not know was that there was some sort of error, as it could not distinguish reality and fiction.
How could he simply acquire stuff like this when it was supposed to be out of the creative freedom of developers, writers, and creators of this era?
But even if he told himself this was not real, the reality was the panels that kept on popping out of the blue.
「 Accumulating MERIT POINTS... [■■■■■■■■■■] 100% 」
「 Merit Result: 500 PRAGMA MERITS 」
"Crap!" He cursed as he attempted to stand on his own feet, trying to make a support out of the walls where he leaned an arm.
Ba-dump! For a split second, he sensed how his being stopped functioning as his vision seemed to split in half, and he almost fell on the soil.
The panel now displayed something out of the ordinary.
「 STATUS: SYSTEM ONLINE 」
As much as he wanted to loiter around within his own mind, he had already started to walk as fast as he could.
It was entirely absurd!
Definitely absurd!
He was certain of what he read, of what the System implied to him.
It meant he was given another freaking chance to live a life as a matchmaker. Turned out fate wanted him to play as a matchmaker—well, screw that!
How come, out of all, would he have to have a role that was of love? What on earth did that God see in him to make him an apostle? Hell, he would have accepted the offer had he become something that despised the world he believed to be loving.
But love?
What is love?
He had no freaking idea of love, what more of romance, of relationship, of sunshines and rainbows and the whatnot, because at the end of the day, everyone will die. He was supposed to die. He accepted his death.
Lovemir, Lovemir, Lovemir.
He kept on hearing his own name in his damn mind, but needless to think of anything, his blurry vision was already taking him far from the bridge as some strange lights now consumed his vision. Were they cars?
Some silhouettes, some footsteps — ring, ring— terrible whispers, murmurs, echoes, laughter — buzz, buzz — but he could not see anything, nor could he know whose shoulder he was colliding with.
"Man, are you drunk?!"
"Hey! Watch your goddamn step!"
But he continued walking.
Adored, beloved, Lovemir.
His mind resonated with his name, with its meanings, with its significance, but he could not even guess which was reality anymore. After the panel disappeared, it was as if his body was acting strange. It felt warm, so warm and hot that he was about to burn.
His sight was still as hazy.
Someone eventually pushed him.
"What is wrong with you, bastard?!"
"Let him be! Ignore this pathetic loser, let's go!"
But he continued walking, as he heard passing cars and strange inaudible noises that separated him from reality.
Lo-ve-mir, Ri-me-vol.
Then, he stopped. Ba-dump, ba-dump. A heart that seemed to beat with nothing but numbness.
When he regained his sight, he was at the sidewalk, as many strangers passed before and after him, looking at him with odd scrutiny as if judging his wretched countenance.
He remained paralyzed at that moment.
Until a freaking panel realized itself into the thin air.
「 STATUS UPDATE 」
「 "Carry on now, Matchmaker Lovemir!" 」
「 Current Role: [The Pragma Matchmaker] 」
「 Current Level: 1 (Combat Focus) 」
「 Current Grade: F (Matchmaking Focus) 」
「 [DIRECTIVE]: "Your existence thence shall be the Pragma Matchmaker! You are the bridge that does not break. You are the muse of the enduring." 」
He would not escape this peril in this life, could he? It was the first time he wanted something, and something that was death he would have desired to come for his life, but it seemed that even death was stingy toward him. Such an act was a ruse.
And a Pragma Matchmaker?
He would have scoffed with such preposterousness.
Pragmatism is a love enduring, he burlesqued. What did that have to do with his suffering—that with great suffering came great endurance for love? That suffering was indeed a love enduring? Then to hell must be love, that I turned out to be a monster trying to devour himself, which caused me to agonize with a desire to end this peril.
He was not this preachy, but if he were to bargain with this God, all hell would break loose. He would make words be out of spite and be burned and burned until all that was left of him was numbness. For what was life for if not for savoring a few moments of happy?
He couldn't even savor a few of them.
Then what should he stand for?
Must he just accept it out of the blue?
Thank this God?
Screw the gratitude, for he never desired any of this.
Lovemir clenched his fist, as he could feel how his soaked clothes burdened his body with such weight. When the frigid breeze cupped his cold cheeks, he wanted to just disappear at that moment, or even hopelessly pray that the system was all but a joke and he was hallucinating. But damn the life that he had.
He looked at the highway filled with busy cars passing.
Without much thought, he ran into the busy path then—
SCREECH!
His frame plunged into the air as it was hit by a passing truck, as his body was shocked from the immense pain of having his bones snap, his head bleeding, tainting its front, spraying some on the air, as he landed and rolled, and rolled.
He thought he was going to finally die at that moment.
But who was he kidding?
「Ding!」
「You cannot die out of your own volition.」
And he cursed some more into the air!
Lovemir lay on the asphalt, his vision flickering AGAIN like a dying bulb. He could feel the wet heat of his own blood pooling beneath his head, mixing with the grime of the road. His ribs were a scraggy mess within his chest, and his lungs were as if they were collapsing under the weight of the air itself.
「Activating Immediate Restoration Protocol.」
「Deducting 100 Pragma Merits.」
"No . . ." he wheezed, a bubble of blood popping on his lips.
Then came the agonizing sensation of life being forced back into him. Unluckily for him, it was not a gentle healing. Poor Lovemir, for it was a violent one. He screamed as his snapped bones ground against one another, rotating and clicking back into place with sickening cracks against the pavement. The skin on his forehead began to knit together, the deep gash closing so fast it turned into an unbearable itch that burned.
The truck driver scrambled out of his vehicle, his face pale with horror. "Hey! Kid! Don't move, I'm calling an—!"
The man stopped mid-sentence, his phone slipping from his trembling hand.
Before his eyes, the broken boy who should have been a corpse was standing up. Lovemir's curly brown hair was still matted with blood, but the wounds beneath were gone, replaced by that same velvety white skin, now flushed with a healthy, unwanted glow.
This twenty year-old man didn't look like a victim.
Much more like an apparition.
Lovemir ignored the man's gasps, instead glaring at the invisible panel that hovered mockingly in his line of sight.
「Restoration Complete.」
「Remaining Merits: 400.」
He spat the remaining taste of iron onto the road.
Curse this System!