Alchemy is Correct

I died.

Born into an ordinary family and living an ordinary life, one day in my twenties, I was diagnosed with an incurable disease with a poor prognosis.

A chilling disease where the motor neurons in the brain and spinal cord selectively die off, causing you to lose control of your muscles throughout your body and slowly feel your entire body dying.

Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis.

It’s called Lou Gehrig’s disease, named after a person called Lou Gehrig who contracted it during his lifetime.

The probability of getting this disease in one’s lifetime is about 0.2%, and I was one of those who got it.

I was truly unlucky.

At first, after being struck by the thunderbolt of an incurable disease, I tried my hardest to overcome it.

Thinking that if I exercised, I might be able to move around a little longer, I tried exercising diligently and ate everything that was said to be good for this disease.

However, despite these efforts, I had to be hospitalized not long after the diagnosis.

With my hospitalization, my parents began to struggle with astronomical medical bills.

Since my family wasn’t wealthy, I ended up living a life where I just made my parents suffer a lot while I slowly withered away.

There were many things I wanted to do.

Of course, my desire to live was also great.

But no matter how much treatment I received, rather than getting better, I only gradually grew weaker.

Even with treatment, it only slowed the process; watching my body slowly dying, I pondered for a long time.

I want to live.

But there is no hope.

There was no definite cure for this disease anyway, and what treatment there was could only extend life a little.

Unless a miracle happened, there was no prospect of treatment.

All I could do was spend expensive money to extend my life a little bit.

There’s no complete cure.

It only slows the progression.

I’m just being a burden to my parents.

I wanted to live, but I didn’t want to burden my parents in a hopeless and desperate situation.

So I gave up on life-extending treatment.

I refused to receive any more treatment.

My parents begged me to please continue treatment, saying they were fine, but I couldn’t do that.

I wanted them to support my younger sibling rather than me, who couldn’t even function as a human being after getting sick.

After refusing treatment and suffering gradually, I was finally able to be free when the muscles throughout my body completely ceased to function and even breathing became impossible.

Thus, my meaningless life headed toward its end.

After that, I thought I was dead.

“Oh, you’re awake…!”

“Huh…?”

Until I opened my eyes to a completely unfamiliar ceiling.