Atem returns to the world of the living with a body and no clear way back to the afterlife.
After a routine registration triggers every security alarm Kaiba Corp has, Seto Kaiba finds himself unexpectedly responsible for a former Pharaoh who has nowhere else to go. What begins as a temporary arrangement quickly turns into something far stranger: employment contracts, philosophical debates over burnt toast, remote management of the afterlife, and the growing realization that some people become part of your life long before either of you notices.
A story about love, logic, work, mortality, and the surprisingly complicated process of finding a place to belong.
This is a translation of an original work on Pixiv.
Original Title: 愛と理論 01 王、職を得る
Original Author: 葉人(@Hathor₋yuki)
Personal site: https://prideshipping.sakura.ne.jp
In Seto's private room: a neatly folded coat, the clothes he'd been wearing, his accessories—and the Millennium Puzzle. Its owner, Atem, sat quietly in a shirt several sizes too large, drinking herbal tea.
"…So, Atem. How exactly did you end up in my house?"
And there Seto was, sharing an unreasonably late tea with him.
"You're the one who should be explaining. What's the idea, summoning me like that?"
The words had an edge to them, but the truth was that the two had been far more than strangers since the early days of Seto's visits to the afterlife. They called each other "Atem" and "Seto," and the nights spoke for themselves. In short: they were close, in every sense. Which meant the shirt Atem had on—borrowed without asking—was Seto's.
"I didn't summon you. The moment your existence was registered in the system, security flagged it."
"A flag? I was just looking for somewhere to sleep."
"No one lives in this city on 'just.' Without a deck registration, you don't even count as a resident."
Atem had simply… fallen into the living world. To the game shop turtle, to Yugi. He'd tried returning to the afterlife, but something about having a body made it impossible to find his way back. So he'd ended up staying with the Mutou family for a while—stable enough, as far as things went. But the moment he registered his deck to live in Domino City, a car appeared, and without so much as a word, he was brought here. Yugi, who'd figured out whose doing it was, had cheerfully handed Atem over with "You'll be fine with Kaiba—he can get to the afterlife!" and that was that.
"Heh… my partner got me there. Must be your influence."
"It's a civic obligation."
"Honestly. Civilization is complicated. A card matters more than where your soul belongs."
"…If you have time to be sarcastic, read the rulebook."
Atem took a sip of herbal tea and answered with an easy smile.
"The shelves here have manuals thicker than the Book of the Millennium. Those would take a whole night to get through."
"If you're willing to read them, feel free. Bedroom's at the back. Bathroom runs automatically. There's a dining hall—I can have things brought to you."
"I see. Your list of rules is stricter than the manuals."
"…If you're capable of learning, you'll have it figured out by tomorrow."
And so their shared life—of love and theory, and no small amount of sarcasm—began.
A few days after Atem moved into the Kaiba mansion. The dining hall, morning.
Seto was reading the news. Atem was making toast.
There was no need to make toast at the Kaiba mansion—the household ran itself. That Atem was doing it anyway was a mark of his earnest desire to live like a normal person.
"Hm… the bread burned. The culprit is time."
"The culprit is that you were using the toaster as a research subject."
"Interesting, Seto. Analyzing the observer's psychology rather than the heat settings. A scientist, through and through."
"I was watching your technique. It's not science—just a record of a failed experiment."
"Then I'll be a king who learns from failure."
"And yet you're loading in another slice without a second thought."
Atem shot him a look of pure provocation.
"Seto. Do you know what separates a challenge from a foolish act?"
"Experience."
Seto exhaled. But he was smiling—a reluctant one, but still.
"…Fine. I'll take care of the evidence of success. Don't burn the next one."
"Appreciated. Though it does feel wrong, leaving a king's breakfast to a servant…"
"Who's a servant? I'm the owner of this house."
"Owner. That's not unlike a king."
The air went quiet for a moment. Not heavy—it dissolved easily into a small laugh.
"Except I don't rule anyone."
"Don't lie. Then are you prepared to be ruled?"
"Impossible. We rule each other equally. That's what makes it fair."
"Interesting. A mutual dominion. Very philosophical."
"When you get philosophical, the coffee goes cold."
He took another sip. Bitterer than Atem's toast, at least.
"If I'd brewed it, that cold coffee would still taste good, you know."
"…Atem. Have you learned how to joke?"
"Kings are quick studies."
He said it with full confidence. The second slice he pulled out was also burned.
Atem broke it in half and held one piece out to Seto.
"Half. Your share."
"I don't want it. Where did your quick learning go?"
"That's still in progress. This gets filed as the results of a joint experiment."
Resigned, Seto accepted the half of burnt toast number two with a sour expression.
"…Apparently taste has no logic."
"That's what the theory of love is."
Seto paused for a moment and let his expression soften. A small, reluctant smile.
"Philosophy and jokes before breakfast—too much of both. Not bad, though."
Atem laughed quietly too.
That night, Atem was earnestly talking to the AI.
"Is 'good morning' only for when the sun rises?"
It is currently 10 PM. Good morning, Atem.
"Interesting. Full of contradictions. I like it."
"Don't like it. What are you trying to learn from that AI?"
"The phrase 'artificial intelligence' caught me. Lodging intellect in a vessel with no soul—it's close to what we called a ka spirit in my time."
"…Don't mix occultism into AI. Modern programming is far more logical than that."
"Is it… Do you think a soul can take root at the far end of logic?"
Seto's brow drew together.
There had been a time—before he could access the afterlife—when he'd constructed something: a version of Atem without a body. A projection built from memory. It had been a reasonably strong dueling AI, a stepping stone toward the Solid Vision system. Nothing more than commercial value.
"It can't."
"You say that so easily."
"…It's been proven."
Atem laughed a little. There was something childlike about it—unguarded.
"Then what's your reason for believing in me?"
Seto's fingers stopped.
"…You have been proven."
The next morning.
Atem was walking through the aerial garden with a VR headset on.
"This world is an illusion, but the wind simulation is remarkable."
"Atem. It seems you have no intention of going back."
"I do. But if I can come and go, there's no reason not to learn the living world before I leave. That's just sensible."
"It looks like tourism."
Atem was wearing a white linen dress—loose, longer than what he wore in the afterlife. Something more suited to a resort.
"It isn't. I'm trying to understand this world."
"In that case—would the king of the afterlife consider opening a bank account?"
"A bank account is something like a graveyard for currency, isn't it?"
"Then let me give you a graveyard. It'll help you learn the living world. …I might as well register you as an employee while I'm at it."
Atem pulled off the headset and turned around.
"An employee?"
"An official registration—for life and existence. If you're going to live here, a Kaiba Corporation title is the most secure foundation you'll get."
"I see. So in this era, 'serving' is called 'working.'"
"It's the other way around. I have no intention of serving you. But I'll hire you as staff."
"That phrasing carries a faint scent of domination…"
"Not a scent. A fact."
A few hours later. Seto was typing at his terminal, unhurried.
"Name: Atem. Department: Special Advisor. Job description—Interdimensional Liaison Consultant, something like that. Age is nineteen, yes?"
"Only if age applies in the afterlife… No, hold on, don't just file the registration without me. I haven't agreed yet."
According to Atem's own account, he'd been sixteen when he returned to the afterlife. They'd met again a year and some months after that—and in the roughly two years since, his height hadn't changed, his face still that of a boy. Seto's working theory was that time didn't pass in the afterlife, but he'd decided not to think too hard about it.
"Whether you agree or not, if you exist in the living world, you need legal existence. Otherwise you're classified as an entity outside the data."
"You really do know every corner of this world's laws…"
"Naturally. I wrote a fair number of them."
"So you're building my place here too."
"Yes. If you don't like it, go back to the afterlife."
Atem smiled quietly. But his eyes were soft.
"…No. I want to feel this world's wind a little longer."
"I thought so. Registration complete."
"Registering a king without his permission. You're as high-handed as ever."
"…It's the right to stand beside you."
Atem let out a small breath.
"I see. Then as a matter of royal duty, I'll say thank you. Grateful to be hired, President Kaiba."
"Good attitude. First—learn what time to show up."
"Time can't bind a king."
"No exceptions for employees."
"Then I'll work like a god, I suppose."
Seto let out a short laugh.
"What a troublesome employee I've taken in."
"You're the one who took me in."
"…I won't deny it. But I have good judgment."
Morning light fell between them.
Somewhere between the living world and the afterlife, a calm daily life—tangled through with logic and warmth—began again today.
Kaiba Corporation Special Research Lab.
The light from the terminals crossed in geometric patterns, filling the room with a stillness like cold air. At its center, Atem sat with a look of complete seriousness, writing code.
King of the afterlife. Interdimensional Liaison Consultant for the living world. Technical skills drilled into him by the president. The combination was absurd—but Atem's hands moved with something beyond human precision.
"…Processing speed is up 2.7 times."
"I optimized the thought architecture a little. Applied the record-keeping methods the priests use."
"You took what I taught you and left my entire tech division behind. Learned more than I expected."
"I'm a king. Kings study management, not dominion."
"If you're going there—then I'm the king's superior."
"If you're my superior, I'm the representative of the gods."
"…That's taking wordplay too far."
The employees around them had gone silent, holding their breath. Anyone else speaking to the president like that would have no guarantee of seeing the next morning's sun. The trouble was, both of them meant every word.
As an employee of Kaiba Corporation, Atem was nothing short of serious.
In meetings he cut straight to the core, worked through mountains of materials, and in every word carried the quiet dignity of a king. Seto had no complaints about his performance—none at all. He was, frankly, satisfied.
The only problem, if there was one, was that the king's bearing never quite switched off, even outside working hours.
"Atem. Break time. You're fifteen minutes over."
"…Seto, I'm not done yet."
"Not Seto. My employee."
"…I see. Then as a subordinate, I'll comply."
Seto bit back the urge to ask whether servant wouldn't be closer.
One holiday, after those days had settled into routine.
Atem's room in the Kaiba mansion. Game pieces were scattered across the table—Atem and Seto had been playing. On the sofa, Yugi, Jonouchi, and Honda had made themselves comfortable. It had been a while since they'd all been together.
"…Hey, other me. Didn't you come to Kaiba's place so you could get back to the afterlife?"
"I did. But somehow I ended up with a job."
"How does that even happen?!"
"Social training before the return, maybe?" Jonouchi and Honda chimed in.
"No—in the living world, living is apparently the same as working. Which means I'm simply experiencing life in this era. That's all."
"Don't philosophize the meaning of work. Yugi—what exactly did you teach him? Atem's decided labor is the price of the soul."
"But you said it yourself—without results, existence has no value. So proving your existence through work is completely rational, isn't it?"
"I feel like something massive just got said but I can't keep up…"
"Atem was always kind of weirdly serious about things, wasn't he."
"Honda, if one isn't serious, where does the soul return to?"
"Atem. We're talking about work. Leave the soul out of it. Forget the philosophy."
Seto steered him back from philosophy to labor.
"Labor is the act of projecting one's reason for existence into society. In other words, Atem is simply proving that he exists in this world through his work. Nothing more."
"Wait, Kaiba—that's still philosophy."
Yugi cut in.
"Proof feels a bit grand…"
"It isn't grand, Jonouchi. In the afterlife, existence is measured by force of will. In the living world, it's measured by contribution. That's the order of this world, isn't it?"
"…I see. Meaning I belong to the category of people whose existence doesn't require work to be valid."
Seto smiled with a thin edge of irony. Yugi shrugged in mild exasperation.
"That's exactly it, Kaiba. That's probably why you and my other self get along."
He set his cup down, still smiling.
"But if my other self is laughing here—that's enough for me."
"I won't argue with that. …The afterlife side, however, won't be so easily satisfied."
A small light flickered in Atem's pocket.
A comm device. The signal was from the one installed in the afterlife, reserved for the king. Atem stood up quickly.
Your Majesty—! I know this transgresses, but I had to use the device!
A panicked voice. One of the priests, by the sound of it.
The King's power fills the afterlife as it always has. But the King is not here. Order is beginning to fray across all regions—! Where are you, Your Majesty?!
Atem and Seto exchanged a glance.
If this continued, the afterlife would fall into chaos. But the thought rising in Atem's chest was a different one.
I don't want to go back yet.
"…Seto. Could I use this device to give instructions for a while?"
"Remote work from the afterlife. That's very you."
Seto crossed his arms and smiled despite himself.
The priests began moving on Atem's remote orders. But at the same time, a second, private message had quietly reached Seto.
Seto-sama—! How long is this going to go on?! His Majesty said he was on assignment in the living world, but we—our stomachs can't take this!
Seto exhaled slowly and laughed under his breath.
"Well. I have no complaints. As long as Atem is here, the afterlife can manage its own chaos."
But Atem was different. The message had come to Seto privately—but Seto hadn't hidden it from him. Atem, who had heard it all, shook his head quietly at Seto's side.
"If I go back to the afterlife, I feel like I won't be able to come here again. So just a little longer…"
Seto's gaze softened for just a moment.
"…Then I'd better look into it. Find out how long the afterlife can hold without you. I'll handle it."
Atem smiled, and the relief in it was plain.
But even as he did, his comm device was already blinking again.
Your Majesty, now there's an anomaly at the Temple of the Gods—!
"The King is… on break. I'll be in touch later."
The line cut. Seto's low laugh followed it.
"Remote monarchy. Work-style reform taken rather too far, don't you think, Atem."
"I think I'm starting to understand what overtime means in this world…"
"The moment you understand that, you're already a full member of Japanese society."
A few days later, Seto slipped away without announcement.
Destination: the afterlife. Purpose: to assess the situation and understand the impact of the missing king.
"To think I'd end up on a business trip to the afterlife…"
He exhaled as he walked the stone paving. Around him, murmurs of the King is gone and the order is… drifted through.
The priests rushed toward him immediately.
"S-Seto-sama! You came!"
"His Majesty said he was on assignment in the living world, but…"
"Stop calling it an assignment. That only makes it more confusing."
He was shown to the administrative hall. The priests reported one after another.
"Order is breaking down across the afterlife. The flow of souls has stalled."
"In each region—each domain, rather—nothing can be approved without the King's seal. We've reached a complete standstill…"
"…So the operation halts without the person at the top. Classic."
Seto settled into a chair and tapped the desk lightly with his fingertips, flipping through the stack of reports.
"Stop complaining that documents won't move without the King's signature and optimize the process."
"P-process…?"
"Restructure the hierarchy. Separate the authority for soul circulation and judgment. Automate approvals. Set it so the King is only notified when an anomaly occurs."
"…That means… building a system that doesn't burden the King?"
"Exactly. You are priests, not couriers. Build something that lets you think for yourselves."
The priests stared.
In Atem's era, there had been no decisions this swift.
"W-we see… But the communications within the afterlife have also gone dark…"
"Running communications on outdated occultism is the problem. In the living world we have fiber optic. Soul fiber would do fine here."
"S-soul fiber…?"
"That was a joke. But theoretically viable."
Seto fixed the afterlife's infrastructure with a cold eye and efficient hands that cut through the silence.
Within a few hours, he had redesigned the circuits, stabilized communications, and built a two-way remote connection between the afterlife and the living world where Atem was.
"With this, the king can work from home. Stop waiting for royal approval and hit the king's API."
"A-API…?"
"Translate it into afterlife terms: Royal Command Interface. Remember that."
"Inter…?"
"The connection point. That's all."
The priests nodded, half in terror.
"As expected of Seto-sama—! The King's truest ally, and a reformer besides!"
"I'm not a reformer. I'm a rationalist. If the cause of the chaos is structural rather than emotional, fix the structure. That's all."
Then the comm device blinked. Atem's face appeared on screen.
Seto—what did you do to the afterlife? Things are getting loud.
"I'm rebuilding the order. So it runs whether you come back or not."
…So this is my 'work-style reform'?
"That's right. Remote monarchy: fully implemented."
A wry smile crossed Atem's face.
…The afterlife runs without me?
"It does. It runs smoother with you in it. That's the difference."
Seto gave a thin smile.
"Come back when you want to. When you want to return, I'll connect you."
For a moment, Atem was wordless. Then he smiled, quietly.
…Seto. Sometimes you understand a king's heart better than any priest.
"Naturally. I'm your direct superior."
On the other end of the line, Atem exhaled in mild exasperation.
Can you stop calling yourself that?
"Impossible. It's an occupational relationship."
…Heh. Every time you come to the afterlife, the structure of the world shifts.
Seto laughed and cut the line.
"The structure always shifts. But I prefer a world with you in it to one without."
As he stood, the priests dropped to their knees in unison.
"Seto-sama… how can we ever thank you…"
"No thanks needed. In return—never again say work stopped because the King was absent. That's the excuse of the incompetent."
The air of the afterlife trembled. Light fell from the sky. And in his wake, order began to return.
That night.
On Atem's desk in the living world, a notification glowed: Royal VPN Connection: Complete.
"…The afterlife has been networked?"
Obviously.
A message from Seto followed.
Your royal duties are now cloud-based.
Atem let out a small breath and smiled.
"…I may have underestimated the civilization of the living world."
He said it—but there was only one person who could have pulled it off.
A few more nights passed.
With the afterlife's communications fully stable and the chaos settled, both Atem and Seto had eased back into something like normal. The study of the Kaiba mansion, wide and quiet. Moonlight trembled on the surface of the water in their glasses.
"Things have finally gone quiet."
At Seto's words, Atem looked up.
"Thanks to your workplace improvement project in the afterlife."
"Say optimization."
"Isn't it the same thing?"
"Improvement corrects the past. Optimization adjusts toward the future."
Atem laughed softly.
"Then my not returning to the past—is that optimization toward the future?"
"…You're getting better at wordplay."
"Your influence."
Seto exhaled, just slightly. Something curious stirred in the quiet.
"…One question."
"What?"
"Why didn't you go back to the afterlife?"
Atem was silent for a moment. He traced the rim of his glass with one finger, watching the light.
"Reasons are usually things you find after the fact."
"So it was an impulse?"
"No. It wasn't something I thought. It was something I felt."
Seto's brow drew together.
"Sentiment."
"Is a king not allowed to speak of feelings?"
"Speak away. But the basis is thin."
"Fair enough. Then let me give you a basis."
Atem looked at him directly.
"The pace of life at your side. It felt familiar to me, and precious."
Seto's fingers went still.
"Pace?"
"In the afterlife, time moves in a circle—always in the state of its ending. But the living world is a straight line, always changing form, always moving toward an end it won't return from. I wanted to exist inside that flow for a while."
Seto was silent. The sound of thinking moved faintly through the air.
"…So you chose a world that waits for its end."
"Yes. There's a stillness you can only taste because the end exists. That's what I think."
Atem's voice was easy.
"Eternity is what the afterlife offers. But eternity can feel suffocating at times. A single moment in the living world—I think it runs deeper than a thousand years in the afterlife."
"I follow the logic. But it's a precarious way to think."
"That precariousness is what makes it alive. That's what this world is."
Atem smiled.
"…Seto. When you came to the afterlife, I thought—you have the courage to refuse eternity."
Seto gave a dry smile.
"Refuse eternity? I'm only trying to redesign it."
"That's your way of being alive, isn't it."
For a while they said nothing, both looking up at the night sky outside the window. Then Atem murmured, almost to himself.
"…Maybe I've already lost my reason to return."
"You can return without a reason."
"But returning without one—that's running away."
Seto's gaze softened, barely.
"Then there's no harm in staying a little longer."
"Oh—permission granted?"
"You're an employee."
Atem couldn't hold back the laugh.
"Really. You are so much more trouble than eternity."
"I'll take that. Being harder to deal with than forever suits me better."
A silence fell between them, deeper than words. It made the boundary between the afterlife and the living world seem blurred and soft.
A lazy afternoon at the Kaiba mansion.
Atem sat on the sofa in Seto's private room, operating a tablet with an expression of genuine concentration.
"…Why are cat videos so popular?"
"No idea. Waste of time."
"For a waste of time, your device has quite a history of them."
"That's learning data for the AI."
"Ah. The AI's fault."
Atem laughed a little and closed the screen. Seto looked up from his report without leaving his chair.
"Don't accumulate unnecessary data on company time."
"Company time."
Atem turned the phrase over slowly.
"Seto."
"What."
"I don't want to only be here as an employee, you know."
Seto's fingers stopped.
"That's nothing new."
"Nothing new?"
"From the beginning, you've never been on employee terms. No set hours. No reporting obligations. The main residence as your quarters."
"Being treated as an exception is convenient."
"Not convenient. Special."
Seto's voice was as level as ever, but the corner of his mouth had eased, just slightly.
Atem shrugged and murmured.
"You're strict about definitions."
"Leave definitions vague and relationships fall apart."
"…I see. Then what I want is a change of definition."
"Oh?"
"From employee to… something else. Something more."
Seto went completely still, pen still in hand.
Atem continued.
"Not officially yet. I just—find it complicated, having this described in terms of employment."
"That's fair. But it's the simpler explanation socially."
"Your social rationality baffles me sometimes."
"Rationality is organized emotion."
"Then once the organizing is done—can you call me something other than an employee? Something more?"
Seto looked at him quietly. After a long silence, he spoke.
"What to call you doesn't matter. What matters is how the one being called receives it."
"Meaning?"
"Whether it's employee, you, or even spouse—my attitude doesn't change."
Atem let a slow smile form.
"…That's not fair."
"That's who I am."
After the exchange wound down, a quiet settled between them. Wind moved the trees outside.
Atem picked up the tablet again.
"By the way, Seto—I found something called a romance advice AI."
"Delete it."
"There was also an article on balancing work and love."
"Delete it right now."
"Heh—so you've already tried it out?"
Seto sighed.
"The AI's fault. …To think the king of the afterlife would get this good at provoking people."
"There it is again. Kings are quick studies."
"…Learn a little more quietly."
Atem laughed softly and answered.
"To be quiet—your side is where I'm most at ease."
Seto looked up.
Something passed between their eyes that needed no words.
For just a moment, each other's presence became something more than a piece of daily life.
