Everything was nothing.
That was the only truth I could cling to as I opened my eyes one day and found myself in an entirely different universe.
A world that didn't welcome me… but hunted me.
My life was hell.
I don't even know what the correct phrase is to describe a journey that felt like a punishment for crimes I don't remember committing.
A long, dry sigh escaped my lips as I lay there, unable to move my limbs.
They were drenched—no, soaked—in my own blood, sticky and warm against the cold earth.
I was dying.
In my previous life, I was just an ordinary earthling.
A simple nine-to-five office worker—average salary, average lifestyle, average dreams.
No remarkable achievements, no impressive lineage, no dramatic destiny.
Just a man who lived alone, with no parents or relatives depending on him.
A cliché, right?
The kind you'd see in the novels I used to read after work, late at night while sipping instant coffee.
I always laughed at those isekai stories.
Sometimes I even wished it would happen to me—summoned to a fantasy world with magic, swords, and destiny.
Maybe becoming a hero with a cheat ability.
Maybe gaining a legendary skill or a broken system UI that talked to me.
But reality was cruel.
I didn't get any magic prodigy trait.
No swordmaster talent.
No blessed system whispering "Welcome, Player."
For twenty long years in this world, I gained nothing.
No skills. No cheats. No miracles.
Nothing but bruises, hunger, and fear.
Compared to my previous life, it was pathetic.
My hopes were crushed like an ant beneath a giant's step within just a few years.
Every dream of becoming the protagonist of my own story faded, piece by piece, swallowed by the merciless world around me.
Plop—plop.
Rain began to fall.
It washed the dirt from my skin and carried the blood away in thin red streams. The cold droplets struck my face, but I couldn't even lift a hand to wipe them away.
After I transmigrated, I thought I could survive using what I knew from novels and games. But the magic here was nothing like the ones I imagined.
The power system was alien—something so complex my brain felt like it would rupture trying to comprehend it.
My 'knowledge' was useless.
My hard work dissolved like smoke on the wind.
Eventually, I gave up.
On effort. On dreams. On righteousness.
If honest work didn't keep me alive, then I simply chose what did.
I scammed.
I lied.
I betrayed.
A medieval fantasy world with slightly advanced technology.
a place where knights and wizards stood at the top, and people like me crawled beneath.
If I had been reborn as a child, maybe I could've lived as a normal citizen.
But I was thrown into the body of a young man with no memories, no identity, and no guidance.
The language was foreign.
I struggled for years.
But I survived.
I adapted.
I learned their tongue, their writing, their customs.
Eventually, I became fluent.
Literacy became my weapon. Trickery became my shield. Realism replaced dreams.
I told myself 'I'm not the hero. I'm just trying to live.'
But karma is a cruel accountant.
Every sin I committed came back, one by one, like a boomerang aimed at my throat.
And the final blow..
It was delivered by the person I loved most.
My wife.
The one who smiled patiently at me, who held my hand in the cold nights, who whispered sweet promises.
I was skeptical at first, but they say love makes men blind—and I was no exception.
She betrayed me.
For money I earned through sweat, blood, and the desperation of others.
I didn't hate her.
How could I?
I knew I deserved it.
Whoever raises the blade must be prepared to fall upon it someday.
And today was that day.
As two lifetimes flashed before my eyes, everything slowly grew distant—like a dream fading after dawn.
I had one final wish.
The words crawled out of my dry throat, barely a whisper carried by the rain:
"Please… don't make me live again."
As I closed my eyes, mumbling nonsense even to my own ears…
…I thought my life finally ended.
But fate had other plans.