(What made this world so special?)
A figure with nothingness, smiling... Looking at everything.
(Lets test another one)
"I hate my life."
Let the hypocrites preach about gratitude; in the privacy of my own head, I reserve the right to complain as much as I want.
I despise it all. The crushing mediocrity, the suffocating walls of a decrepit apartment that barely qualifies as a human habitat. It's 2026, and the only thing I feel with absolute certainty is envy. A venomous, all-consuming envy for the rich.
Reflected in the grimy shop windows I pass, I see an unremarkable Korean man. Short, aggressively ordinary hair. Eyes as dead as the prospects of my dead-end accounting job. I don't hate the elites; in fact, I desperately want to be them. I want the yachts, the sprawling mansions, the untouchable freedom to govern the world from above. They worry about AI and automation as investments, while I live in constant terror of being replaced by them.
Why on earth did I choose accountancy?
I'm trapped in a "black company" that bleeds me dry, forcing me to grind away nearly every day just to scrape by. My apartment is a disaster zone, and my health is deteriorating from the stress. Forget about romance; my life is a mess, I'm wildly insecure, and I barely have the energy to clean my own room, let alone impress a woman. Even if the elites are morally bankrupt, why couldn't I have been born as one of them?
I envy them. I envy them so much it hurts.
Perhaps, with so much bitter complaining, fate decided this sedentary, unremarkable man needed a change of scenery. Otherwise, how else do you explain what happened next?
I was so consumed by my own miserable monologue that the blaring horn didn't even register. A truck. Of course, it was a heavy-duty truck.
Time seemed to stretch. I stared at the metal grill hurtling toward me with a completely blank expression. You've got to be kidding me, I thought. I haven't even tasted a sliver of satisfaction yet, and you're handing me this garbage end?
If there was a God watching this pathetic display, He probably just grabbed some popcorn and yelled, "Isekai time!"
And then... there was no pain. Just the soft, disorienting sensation of solid ground beneath me.
I opened my eyes to a bustling town. The air smelled different. The birds were chirping—except these birds were the size of compact cars. Wolves and literal monsters casually strolled through the cobblestone streets. Up ahead, a group of bizarre humanoid creatures was shouting aggressively at a stunningly gorgeous woman.
My heart hammered against my ribs. This is it! My golden ticket! My escape from wage slavery! The legendary isekai power was finally mine! I threw my hands up, ready to embrace my overpowered destiny.
"Status!" I commanded, my voice ringing with newfound authority.
Silence.
The humanoid creatures stopped their argument and stared blankly at the dark-haired, intensely average man standing in the middle of the street.
"System...?" I tried again, a little softer this time.
Nothing. A cold sweat broke out on my neck. Panic rising, I screamed at the top of my lungs, a sound so desperate that it made two nearby adventurers—Yuruki and Adam—flinch and turn in my direction.
"Where's the power-up?! The Golden Finger?! The overpowered isekai cheat?!"
I, Byeon-ho Pogi, was exactly the same. No rippling muscles. No glowing magical aura. Just a tired accountant in another world.
Wait, don't panic, I told myself, my breathing turning frantic. Anime protagonists always have to figure out their triggers. It's just locked!
I struck a dramatic pose, pointing a finger fiercely at the sky.
"Levitate!"
Gravity, entirely unimpressed, kept my feet firmly planted in the dirt.
"Ughhh!?"