Shibuya Hal was the leader of Neo-Porte and a man who kept protecting his friends. But his kindness was slowly shaving away his own life. One day, overwhelmed by a relentless streaming schedule and mental exhaustion, he collapsed. When he woke up, he found himself in a strange, pure-white space. There, a self-proclaimed 'Manager of Fate,' a girl named Chloe, appeared. She told him, 'You were supposed to die three months from now. But I want to give you a chance to do it over.' Hal laughed it off
Neo-Porte Regret: Shibuya Hal Dies Twice - The Fate of Death and Its Price: A Fresh Start from a Pure White Space
3 AM.
Neo-Porte HQ, fifth floor. In the president's office, at the desk—Shibuya Haru.
Scattered meeting documents. An untouched convenience store bento. Stone-cold coffee.
Haru stared at the computer screen. His light brown, soft short hair was sticking up on the right side from sleep. Deep dark circles carved under his amber eyes from exhaustion. In a black hoodie and jeans, he kept typing.
"...Is this good enough for the next proposal?"
His voice was hoarse. His throat was dry. But he had no energy to stand.
His left fingers unconsciously traced the old wristband on his right wrist. Three years ago, the five founding members of Neo-Porte bought matching ones. The color had faded. The fabric was fraying. Still, Haru had never taken it off.
(I have to protect them.)
The words spun around in his head.
Thirty talents. Fifteen staff. Everyone's livelihood depended on this agency. This five-story building in Shibuya, Jinnan. If it fell, so would countless dreams.
(If I just keep pushing, that's all it takes.)
Haru tried to smile. His mouth moved slightly, but no dimples appeared.
The computer screen wavered.
No—wrong. It was his vision that was shaking.
Haru gripped the mouse harder. His fingertips were cold. His heart was beating in a strange rhythm.
"I'm not... done yet."
He tried to stand.
In that instant, his legs gave out.
His body tilted. He collapsed from the chair, crumpling to the floor.
His vision went dark. Somewhere far away, he thought he heard someone calling.
"...I have to... protect them."
Those were Haru's last words.
——
When he came to, Haru was standing.
No—even the sense of "standing" was vague.
No up, no down, no left, no right. Pure white in every direction. Not even a shadow at his feet.
"...Where is this?"
His voice was swallowed into the distance. Not even an echo.
Did I die? Am I dead?
He thought so. But for a dead man, his consciousness was far too clear.
"This is a place without time or space."
A voice came from behind.
Haru turned around.
A girl stood there.
Long silver straight hair shimmering rainbow in the light. Left eye gold, right eye silver—heterochromia. About 155 centimeters tall. In a white dress, barefoot.
"Nice to meet you, Shibuya Haru."
The girl smiled.
She looked about seventeen. But her smile was far too composed for her age. Her eyes seemed detached—as if she saw through everything.
"...Who are you?"
"I am Chloe. You could call me the administrator of fate."
Chloe tilted her head. Her silver hair slid smoothly.
"The administrator... of fate."
"Yes. I manage and adjust the outcomes of human lives."
Haru furrowed his brow.
"...Sorry, but I don't have time for jokes. I need to get back."
"There is no place to go back to."
Chloe's voice was neither cold nor kind. It simply stated facts.
"You collapsed just now. Heart failure from overwork. And—"
Chloe took a step toward Haru.
"You will die in three months."
Haru lost his words.
"...What are you saying?"
"Exactly what I said. Your lifespan was originally three more months. But you collapsed just now, earlier than scheduled. That is why I called you here."
Chloe's gold and silver eyes looked straight at Haru.
"After you die, Neo-Porte collapses. Talents retire one after another. Performance worsens. Eventually the agency closes. And—"
Chloe paused.
"Your precious comrades follow after you, one by one, and lose their lives."
Something pounded violently deep in Haru's chest.
"...You're joking."
"I do not joke about human lives."
Chloe's eyes were serious.
Haru swallowed. His throat was parched, sticking to itself.
"...I die? In three months? And everyone else too?"
"Yes."
Chloe nodded quietly.
"But you have a choice. I want to give you a chance to start over."
"Start over?"
"A time leap. I will send you one month into the past. There, you will sever the cause of your death."
Haru exhaled.
"...There's no way something that convenient exists. What's the price?"
Chloe smiled faintly.
"There is a price. You will be treated as someone who has already died once. The wounds and fatigue you suffered while alive will attack you again and again. Your body will become more fragile than ever before."
Chloe stared into Haru's eyes.
"And your death will not be undone."
"...What do you mean?"
"You will die in three months. That cannot be changed, even if you return to the past. What I can change is only the future after your death."
Haru repeated Chloe's words in his head.
He dies in three months. That won't change. But the future after that can.
"...So I'm supposed to protect everyone, knowing I'll die."
"That is correct."
Chloe's voice was flat.
Haru laughed.
"Haha... what, is that all?"
Chloe's eyes widened slightly.
"If I can protect them, my life doesn't matter."
Haru looked straight at Chloe. In his amber eyes, there was no hesitation.
"I accept the terms. Send me one month back."
Chloe stared at Haru's face.
As if searching for something. As if confirming something.
"...You are strange."
Chloe's lips loosened just a little.
"Normal people hesitate more. Knowing their own life can't be saved, very few can answer that quickly."
"I'm not normal."
Haru gripped the wristband on his right wrist.
"That's fine. I've lived for everyone. I'll just keep doing that to the end."
Chloe narrowed her eyes softly.
Something was hidden behind that expression.
"...Understood. Then I will send you one month into the past."
Chloe extended her right hand toward Haru.
Her white fingertip touched his chest.
"Shibuya Haru. Your death cannot be changed. But the proof that you lived can."
Chloe's voice grew distant.
"Please—live without regret."
His vision turned white.
——
"...Hah!"
Haru shot upright.
His heart pounded deep in his ears. His breathing was shallow. Sweat plastered his hoodie to his back.
"Hah... hah..."
He opened his eyes.
The familiar ceiling. The familiar desk. The familiar window.
The Neo-Porte president's office.
"...A dream?"
Haru looked at his hands.
His fingertips were trembling.
He glanced at the calendar on the desk.
The date had gone back one month.
The schedule board on the wall was the same. One month ago's plans, packed tight.
"...I really came back."
Haru stood up slowly.
His legs held. His body felt lighter than before he collapsed.
He looked out the window.
The Shibuya streets were lit by morning sun. The scramble crossing overflowed with people. The same morning scenery as always.
But to Haru, it looked different.
(I'm already a dead man.)
Something tightened deep in his chest.
He couldn't tell anyone. No one could know.
Haru took a deep breath.
"...Alright."
He muttered quietly, as if convincing himself.
"Let's go."
He opened the president's office door.
Out in the hallway, the staff member Yamada Hanako happened to be passing by. Thirty-five. Neo-Porte's manager, who had supported him since the agency's founding.
"Ah, President. Good morning."
Yamada gave a light bow. Her short black hair swayed smoothly.
"Morning, Hanako-san."
Haru put on a smile.
"You're early again today. Are you sleeping properly?"
"Yeah, well, you know."
A lie. There was no way he could sleep.
But Haru smiled. Like always.
"Please don't push yourself. If you collapse, President, we're all in trouble."
Yamada looked at Haru with a worried face.
"I'm fine. I'm tough."
Haru patted Yamada's shoulder lightly.
"More importantly, can you check today's talent schedules? I've got something to take care of."
"Understood. I'll email them to you later."
Yamada said that and walked off.
Haru watched her back.
(Everyone's still fine.)
Of course. It was one month ago.
But that "of course" hurt Haru now.
In three months, this place would collapse.
Yamada's smile would vanish too.
"...I'll protect them."
Haru clenched his fist.
He went down to the third floor. Passing the editing room, the chief editor Suzuki Kenta poked his head out. Thirty-two. The man who oversaw Neo-Porte's video editing.
"Ah, President. Good morning. Yesterday's stream edit is up."
Suzuki said, pushing up his glasses.
"Morning. You're always early, Kenta."
"Well, you know, deadlines. Editors are creatures chased by deadlines."
Suzuki laughed with a tired face.
"Don't push yourself. If you collapse too, editing grinds to a halt."
"You're one to talk, President. Those dark circles are bad. Are you sleeping?"
"You too? Hanako-san said the same thing earlier."
"Of course we do. Go look in a mirror."
Suzuki pointed at Haru's face.
"...I'm aware. But there's a lot to do."
"You've always been like that, President. Lean on people more."
Suzuki sighed.
"You're telling me that? You're no different."
"Haha, fair."
The two laughed a little.
Haru parted with Suzuki and headed to the second floor.
The floor with five streaming studios in a row.
Haru opened the door to one.
Inside, high-performance streaming equipment lined the room. A PC worth three million yen, mic, camera, lighting. Neo-Porte's pride—cutting-edge gear.
Haru sat in front of the PC.
He turned it on. The screen booted up.
He opened the archive folder.
Last month's stream data lined up in rows.
"...Huh?"
Haru scrolled the screen.
Some of the data was missing.
Last month, third week. Three days' worth of archives—completely gone.
"Why...?"
Haru checked the folder over and over.
But the data wasn't there.
Just then, the equipment manager Tanaka Yoshiaki happened to pass by. Forty-five. A former sound engineer who managed all of Neo-Porte's equipment.
"Ah, President. Good morning."
Tanaka bowed his head.
"Tanaka-san, hold on. Some of last month's archives are missing."
"Eh? Missing?"
Tanaka came beside Haru and peered at the screen.
"You're right... this shouldn't happen. It was fine until yesterday."
Tanaka tilted his head.
"Any idea?"
"No, none at all. There should be backups too, but..."
Tanaka operated another PC and checked the backup server.
"...It's gone from the backups too. This can only happen if someone deliberately deleted it."
"Deliberately?"
"Yes. If it were a system error, the backups wouldn't disappear. This is most likely someone with access rights manually deleting it."
Haru felt a bad premonition.
(Someone deliberately erased the data?)
"...Got it. I'll look into it. Tanaka-san, check the other studios' data too."
"Understood."
Tanaka headed quickly to the next studio.
Haru stayed alone in front of the PC.
The list of missing data on the screen.
The three vanished days.
What happened during those three days?
Haru traced his memory.
Last month, third week. There was supposed to be a big collab stream. Neo-Porte's flagship talent collaborating with a famous external streamer.
That data was gone.
"...No way."
Chloe's words flashed through his mind.
'The cause of your death lies in an internal betrayal.'
Haru looked out the window.
The Shibuya skyline glittered in the morning light.
In this city, three years ago, he founded Neo-Porte.
He threw in his entire fortune, starting with five founding members.
The streaming gear was secondhand. The office was one room in a rental space.
Still, there was a dream.
To build the next generation of VTuber culture.
The comrades who chased that dream together.
(If there's a traitor, it's...)
A face surfaced in Haru's mind.
The face of the comrade he trusted most.
"...No."
Haru shook his head.
"There's no way. Not him."
He clenched his fist. The wristband on his right wrist bit into his skin.
(He would never betray me.)
Haru told himself that.
But the small unease of the missing data cast a definite shadow on his heart.
Outside the window.
Again today, crowds crossed the scramble crossing.
No one knew Haru's secret.
No one knew the tragedy three months away.
Only Haru knew.
And only Haru could change it.
"...I have to do this myself."
Haru looked a
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