It quickly caused a commotion across the globe, as if the entire world had been turned upside down.

　After all, it was the appearance of a "God."

　To countries that deeply valued religion, it was as if the very foundation of common sense had been overturned.

　The internet, television, newspapers—almost every form of media covered the topic of "God."

　What was that? Was it truly a god? What even is a god, anyway—

　At this stage, these were debates without answers, but one thing was certain: it was the greatest "event" of the century. After all, "God" appeared simultaneously across displays worldwide—though apparently not on those currently in use.

　In Japan, it was morning, but due to time differences, there were regions where "God" appeared during late night or early morning hours.

Countries and religious groups each issued statements regarding "God."

Yet one thing was common among them all: no religion or nation truly acknowledged that entity as "God" in any real sense.

It was certain that it possessed power akin to that of God—only that much was clear. But to recognize it as God on that basis alone would have been tantamount to completely destroying their fundamental religious beliefs.

One religion explicitly declared it to be the Devil, while another nation labeled it an international cyberterrorist act.

In yet another country, a tragic incident occurred in which a group of people murdered a boy who had the mark, believing him to be possessed by the Devil. The news claimed the mark disappeared after his death, or that the mark transferred to those who killed him—reports that lacked credibility, however.

In this regard, Japan's reaction was different in nature.

Most people readily accepted that it was "God" and quickly lost interest in the more exciting prospect of the other world.

Forty-three humans had been selected from Japan.

It seemed like a relatively large number when compared to population ratios, though it was still hard to understand.

What troubled me was that my childhood friend, Nanami, had been chosen.

"U-uh… This is terrible… just terrible… Can we even go back…?"

"I don't know, but based on the information we have right now, it seems impossible."

"My life plans… Why me… Uuu…"

Even half a day had passed, and Nanami had been lying on the bed, quietly sobbing without stopping.

It was a bit surprising to think that such a laid-back person like Nanami would have life plans at all, but one thing was certain—her plans for further education and employment were now completely irrelevant. Even if attending school or getting a job in that other world were somehow possible.

Since then, fragmented information has continued to be uploaded from the divine source.

But honestly, there's currently no information that could truly reassure her.

Nanami's remaining time is short.

Assuming the other world is real, the time allowed for transfer is only the six-month preparation period.

Even that six months won't be left undisturbed by the media or the government.

As soon as Nanami returned to school, nearly the entire student body came to gawk at the "mark."

Since there are only 43 people in Japan who possess the "mark," it's no surprise that it drew curiosity—but the situation became so chaotic that classes were nearly impossible.

Spectators arrived from outside the school, the media set up camp in front of the gates, and within just three days, Nanami was told by the principal to stay home under the guise of "self-restraint."

All I could do was feel frustrated, helplessly watching my childhood friend cry uncontrollably.

At the very least, I could do something for her—gather information in advance so she’d be able to survive on the other side.

◇◆◆◆◇

Days passed amidst the noise and chaos.

My life remained unchanged, but Nanami’s was already undergoing drastic changes even before her transfer to the other world.

Media interviews on television and in magazines.

With her face now well-known, the crowd of onlookers at school grew even larger. Though Nanami had taken a self-imposed school break and wasn’t attending classes.

A special program was aired featuring the 43 designated transfer candidates, and Nanami appeared on television wearing her usual uniform.

At school, Nanami had been as unremarkable as me, more of a target for teasing than anything else, but now she was suddenly the darling of the age. As information

about the "other world" gradually unfolded through divine revelation, the world's excitement continued to build. I meticulously

recorded every detail in a notebook and explained it all to Nanami. The selected

1,000 were granted permission by the gods to bring just one item—something small enough to hold in one hand—into the other world. Countries staked their national pride on crafting special items for their own "transmigrants." In Japan, the

gift was to be a high-performance body armor developed by the United States. Since firearms wouldn't

exist in the other world, it was an exceptional piece designed specifically for fantasy realms, boasting superior resistance to blades, impacts, fire, and electricity. It was said that even buying one normally would cost well over ten million yen.

However, the "God" has strictly ordered that no items should be forced upon anyone against their wishes, so in principle, it's entirely up to personal choice. Nanami seems to be struggling with what to bring.

"Hii-chan, it's just luggage, but I think I might get homesick, so maybe photos would be better..."

Saying this, Nanami pulled out a single photo album.

It was a carefully selected collection of cherished memories.

"No way—definitely go with body armor. You never know what you might encounter. It's not guaranteed to be a peaceful world like Japan."

"Eee... but, that's not cute at all... it looks too bulky..."

"Honestly, I'd prefer you brought a proper weapon. Just deal with it."

"Eee... but wouldn't something like that stand out too much?"

"Just cover it with a cloak."

　

At this point, the body armor is the only choice.

After all, it's the kind of gear that lets you fight the final boss right away. Even if I had been the one chosen, I'd have picked this.

Nanami looked a little sad, but ultimately, due to advice from her country, her parents, and outside sources, she chose the body armor.

Wanting to bring a photo along was very much her style, but she's already destined to be transported to another world. Even if Nanami truly didn't want to go to another world, or even wished someone else could take her place—those feelings are genuine.

There's no escaping it now.

So I just hope she makes the choice with the highest chance of survival. ...I do feel sorry for Nanami, but she was chosen by the gods. There's no way to stop the transfer.

To be honest, I'm tempted to curse at God for choosing someone more suitable.

Conversely, perhaps God deliberately picked someone like Nanami—someone lacking "suitability"—just for the amusement of it. After all, it's a rather vulgar idea to have everyone watch as people get transported to another world.

I can't imagine the selection process for these world-transferred individuals didn't involve such intentions.

Anyway, it's already decided.

Whether I like it or not, whether it was expected or not, there's no choice but to prepare positively.

Thanks to my two sisters, who are fluent in foreign languages, gathering information from abroad has gone smoothly.

It's as if luggage reflects personality—while all the Japanese people chose body armor, others from different countries (even Americans) showed greater diversity in their belongings. Perhaps the relatively high number of people bringing instruments reflects the hope that music serves as a universal language.

I'm quite worried about Nanami being sent to another world, yet there's also a small hint of envy... Honestly, it's a complicated feeling.

At first, Nanami cried and complained bitterly, but over time seemed to have come to terms mentally, gradually becoming somewhat more open to the idea of going to another world.

Still, she wasn't as proactive as the other transferees; nonetheless, her demeanor during TV and magazine interviews seemed to win people over, and on social media, she ended up becoming a beloved character, even if often teased.

On the official website operated by the deity, each transmigrant was given a dedicated bulletin board or chat room, drawing massive global traffic through real-time translation, with everyone freely posting whatever they liked.

Out of curiosity, I checked Nanami's page, only to find her personal information brutally exposed in every detail—so disturbing that I couldn't bear to read further.

I was thoroughly fed up, having lost all privacy as an ordinary person, reduced to a spectacle like a zoo panda.

The deity's broadcasts occurred once a week.

The other world was gradually revealed.

The "benefits" granted to the transmigrants were slowly unveiled.

The specially created official website prepared by the deity received constant access from around the world every day, quickly becoming the most popular content on the planet.

Even though there was still a month until the journey to the other world, a popularity vote had already taken place, and the top spot was claimed by a French girl. Nanami fought hard and ranked 79th—8th among Japanese participants. Though she was surprised and humbly downplayed her achievement, she was now known by people all over the world.

I felt a small sense of pride as her childhood friend.

And so, the days passed in a whirlwind—

until the day finally arrived.