I have a theory about isekai protagonists.
They all have something.
The chef one reinvents seasoning and gets a castle. The engineer invents plumbing and gets a title. The gamer memorizes boss patterns and gets worshipped.
Everyone arrives prepared.
I ran the numbers on myself once.
Cooking — I burned instant noodles. In water. The pot warped. My roommate did not yell. He just stared at me like I had failed as a species.
Engineering — I know steel comes from iron. That is the full documentary.
Combat — I watch football and occasionally criticize professional athletes from my couch.
Conclusion: If I got isekaied, I would die. Quietly. From infection. Probably after trying to eat something I shouldn't.
I made peace with this.
Which is why it was deeply unnecessary for four trucks to disagree.
The crosswalk turned green.
I stepped forward.
SCREEEECH—
A truck screamed past my face.
"GYAH—!"
I jumped back so hard I felt my ancestors judging me.
Alive.
Behind me, someone else was not.
Another student lay flat on the pavement, bag exploded, phone split in two like it had lost the will to continue.
He blinked at the sky.
"Bro," he said, very serious. "If I get isekaied... I'm starting a content guild."
THUD.
He passed out.
I stared at him.
That man was getting a blessing.
You don't pitch business models while dying unless fate likes you.
Meanwhile I had dodged and received absolutely nothing.
Then the second truck came.
SCREEEEEECH—
Then the third.
HONK—HONK—
Then the fourth.
WAAAAAA—
All brake-less. All screaming.
At that point it stopped being traffic and started being harassment.
I looked at the trucks.
"...What did I do?"
Impact.
BOOOOM.
—
White.
No walls. No ceiling. Just endless white and me standing there checking if I still had knees.
"...Okay. Knees present."
Then she appeared.
Beautiful. Radiant. Perfect posture.
Also adjusting a streaming dashboard.
I looked at the viewer count.
...
Ah.
So I died for engagement.
I bowed immediately.
"Great and flawless goddess," I said smoothly. "Your beauty alone justifies existence."
"Mm." she said
Very pleased.
Good. Flattery works.
"If it pleases you," I continued carefully, "I would like to return home. I was on my way to a test. It was survivable."
She smiled like I was adorable.
She pointed behind her.
Two small angels.
Halos crooked. Robes messy.
Between them: a cracked stone tablet.
CRK—
"I told you not to throw it that high!" one yelled
"You said you could catch it!" the other countered
I stepped closer and read the cover.
TABLET OF LIFE — GENESIS PRO v1.0 — MADE IN EARTH REALM
I looked at them.
I looked at her.
"...That decides who lives and who dies."
"Mm."
"And it is broken."
"Temporarily misaligned."
"And I died during this misalignment."
"Batch processing error."
...
I stared at them.
"You broke existence playing catch."
"It was slow," one muttered.
"You have the reflexes of a decorative pillow!" the other snapped.
I turned very slowly to the goddess.
"You let these two discount cherubs manage mortality."
"They are interns."
"Of course they are. Of course the cosmic balance is handled by unpaid toddlers with wings."
"You will be given a new life in another world."
"I would like to decline."
"You cannot."
"I have no skills."
"You will adapt."
"I burn water."
"It will be fine."
Something shifted.
Not fear.
Annoyance.
"You absolute useless, streaming-obsessed excuse for a deity," I said evenly. "I was on my way to a test. I had a rice triangle. That was a stable morning. And now I find out I was deleted because Tweedle-Wing and Dumber here decided to practice their throwing accuracy with the Tablet of Life?"
The angels gasped.
"GASP—!"
"You are the most irresponsible goddess I have ever met," I continued. "Do you even have management? Is there a supervisor? A complaint department? A cosmic HR? Because this feels like gross negligence."
"The viewers enjoy your passion."
"There it is! You are farming reactions!"
She smiled.
I pointed at the angels.
"Those two incompetent halo-wearing gremlins should not be allowed near a clipboard, let alone the concept of death!"
"In our defense—"
"No. There is no defense. You fumbled humanity."
The room began to fade.
"Oh no you don't."
"You will adjust."
"I will not adjust! I will die immediately! And it will be entirely your fault, you lazy, self-satisfied goddess with the attention span of a bored streamer!"
"Everything will work out."
"That sentence has never once been reassuring!"
FWOOOSH—
Gone.
—
SPLASH.
Mud.
Cold. Humiliating mud.
I lay there.
Pig pen.
Sword beside me.
"...She hung up on me."
A pig stood on the other side of the fence, calm and emotionally mature.
"Do you know where the adventurer's guild is," I asked.
The pig blinked.
Blink.
Looked away.
"Unbelievable. Even livestock has better boundaries."
I sat up and picked up the sword.
Too heavy.
I tried a small swing.
The sword did not move.
I did.
SKRRRT—
It dragged me sideways and I fell straight back into the mud.
SPLAT.
I stayed there.
"This is your fault," I said to the sky. "You incompetent, overconfident, viewer-count-obsessed cosmic disaster."
Silence.
A farmer rounded the corner.
He stopped.
Mud-covered stranger. Sword. Yelling at clouds.
He looked at his pig.
The pig looked back at him.
The farmer looked at me.
"...You insane?" he asked carefully.
"Yes," I said. "But it is not my fault."
We held eye contact.
Then he slowly turned around and walked away.
His pace increased.
I watched him go.
Looked at the distant town.
"Medieval poverty," I muttered. "Exactly like I said."
And as I started walking, it hit me.
The content guild guy probably got a blessing.
A prophecy.
A dramatic speech.
I got mud.
And the worst part?
She didn't look worried.
Which means she thinks I'll survive.
Which means this is still entertainment.
And if I really am just content...
Then I swear I am going to be the most annoying content she has ever produced.