A room. A burning lamp. A chair stood still. The door was closed. The screen glowed. He sat at the desk.
There he was—a man whose name only he remembered. His parents hadn't entered his room in ages. They never checked his browser history. This cyber warrior was 25 years old. So powerful, so skilled, he had become a legend. His parents had endured so many catastrophes in group chats that it was a miracle they were still alive.
At that moment, he moved his mouse across the desk, fingers dancing across the keyboard with such blazing speed that even an orgasm would've lasted an eternity. And now, after ten long years of relentless struggle, he had finally achieved his goal: he earned enough money to never deny himself anything again.
He stood up from the desk. Walked through the hallway straight to the door. When his mighty legs finally reached that threshold to another world, he rested his hand on the doorknob and whispered:
— Finally... After ten years. After hundreds of documentations read, after countless bikini anime girls, after thousands of letters... I've done it. I've built a website that can measure the perfect 2D female form from just a picture.
---
He walked outside. Passersby didn't notice him. But as he stepped toward the crosswalk, a truck came barreling down the road. Their eyes met, the distance between them closing fast.
— Who even falls for this trope?
He walked on. The truck zoomed past. He felt invincible. Like Icarus soaring to the sun. And like Icarus, he died. Not from falling, but from a heart attack. The sheer joy was too much. He collapsed, dead on the spot.
---
— Is that... our son?
I woke up in the arms of a woman. She held me to her chest. A man stood beside her, middle-aged and confused.
— Wow... Are you sure you didn't cheat on me? He looks nothing like me.
— He was just born thirty minutes ago. Of course he doesn't.
Looks like I reincarnated. Shit. What now?
I tried to think, but it hurt. Thinking in this tiny baby body sucked. So I fell asleep.
---
FOUR YEARS LATER.
I studied all I could. First of all, it's fantasy again. But my dad's a generational farmer, not some warrior-womanizer. My mom's just a housewife and can't even use healing magic. Their names are Klaus and Maria. Dad doesn't care about me since I don't produce milk, and mom seems to prefer vegetables over children. They were counting on me to have magic talent, but I inherited nothing. So they gave up.
I live in a wooden house in the middle of nowhere. Next to it is my dad's farm. He raises cows, goats, pigs... and kittens. We eat the cows and pigs. The kittens? We sell them. The goats are sacred—totemic animals. There's even one on the weather vane. There are massive wheat fields nearby, and that's where the rest of the villagers work.
Dad harvests hay, mom waters the garden, and I play with cats. That's the extent of my knowledge about the world.
---
SIX MORE YEARS PASSED.
Dad taught me his trade. Now I plow wheat fields. I'm ten years old, which is basically mid-life here. Average lifespan is 20. Anyone over 30 is ancient. Dad's 35. Practically a zombie.
My name's Joseph. But everyone just calls me "hey you." I'm tired of it. I haven't learned a damn thing about this world. So I made a decision—I'm leaving. Dropped my hoe, grabbed my straw hat, torn sweaty shirt, and tattered pants. The golden fields are pretty, sure, but I miss my internet videos.
My plan was simple: grow up, gain independence, and get the hell out. I'm grateful my parents didn't drown me like some kittens, but I've never seen anything beyond this place. The only hint of the outside world was the hay cart and the rare times mom went to the market for nails and paint.
Now, I walk. My goal? Escape this trashy fantasy world and go home to enjoy the income from my perfect waifu-site. The fields of gold gave way to emerald grass and chocolate-colored mud—like someone tried mixing all the colors of the rainbow and ended up with brown.
And then I saw it.
A city.
Far in the distance, the peaks of brick buildings pierced the horizon. I was overjoyed. I ran toward it. Years of farm work had given me muscles and stamina, so I wasn't even tired after crossing miles.
---
IN THE CITY.
Goat banners hung everywhere. People wore medieval outfits straight out of a romanticized French fairy tale. Apparently this was not just any fantasy world—but some kind of twisted parallel one.
I finally got tired and sat down on a wooden barrel in the market. It seemed abandoned. There were people with animal traits—some had horns, goat beards, and some had... very large jugs.
I sat near a fruit stall. Hopefully this wasn't the start of some "rescue the elf girl, die a hundred times" arc.
— Hey, kid. You know this is my barrel?
A man from the meat stall next to me yanked me by the hair.
— Your next line will be: "I thought it was abandoned."
— I thought it was aban—wait, what?
— Kids are so predictable. Now scram.
He put me down and took his barrel back. I decided to leave the market. This place was terrifying.
---
Walking through the streets, I stumbled upon three thugs assaulting a girl. From the sounds, it was obvious what they were about to do. Everyone watched, doing nothing, pretending they were too virtuous to step in.
And I walked on. Sure, the fountain where they were undressing her looked nice, but saving some random girl? Yeah, not my problem.
— Step aside, you pathetic moral husks!
A middle-aged man pushed through the crowd, walked up to the thugs... and burned them with fire from his hands.
— Miss, are you hurt? Please, cover yourself.
He looked like a beast when approaching the criminals, but turned into a simpering puppy when facing the girl—ready to beg for her heel on his skull.
That's when I noticed: he used magic. Magic exists here. Which means... there's a chance I can return home.
I couldn't miss this opportunity. I walked up and politely asked:
— Sir, take me as your disciple!
Everyone burst out laughing.
— Look at him! Did he just crawl out of an anus?
— Those hair and eyes... is he an angel?
What the hell? Angels? Who cares?
— Boy, are you an angel?
— No, I'm Joseph, son of Sonata Klaus, of the Grain Clan.
— Hit me in the abs, boy.
He lifted his snowy shirt. I hit him with everything I had.
— You've got potential, kid. But I don't give a shit. Want to learn something? Go to a dojo. Don't bother good people.
He shoved me away and left, practically drooling over the girl. I stood frozen. The people around me laughed and pointed.
What a beginning...
Promising.