Alex sat hunched in front of his computer, the blue glow of job boards reflecting on his face. It was past noon, and the screen hadn't changed in hours. Just more job postings, most already expired or requiring "3+ years of experience." He clicked refresh, scrolled down, clicked again.
His email inbox pinged. Rejection.
Again.
"We appreciate your interest, but we've decided to move forward with another candidate-"
He deleted the message without finishing it. He didn't need to. It was the same automated message he had read dozens of times in the past six months.
"At least have a human reject me," he muttered, slumping back in his chair, rubbing his tired eyes.
Every day, he applied. Every day, he tailored his resume. Every day, he got nothing but silence or rejection. The worst part was that he tried. He didn't want to be a NEET. He wasn't lazy... Not completely at least. He just… wasn't wanted. Not in this economy. Not with a generic business degree. And taking a retail job was out of the question, his pride wouldn't allow it.
He sighed and opened one of his old online games, clicking through the loading screens without energy. As the music played, he found himself staring at his desktop wallpaper—a picture of his hometown taken from a nearby hill.
"Maybe I should just move to the city," he said out loud, like it would help him believe it.
He listed all the reasons why that would suck:
Tiny apartments with paper-thin walls. The constant noise and pollution. A commute that would take over an hour each way. Higher living costs. Crime rates. Stress. So much stress.
He hated the idea of being swallowed up by that concrete jungle.
But still—
Ring-ring.
His phone buzzed. Unknown number.
He didn't hesitate. Lately, he never did. He just answered.
"Hello?"
A woman's voice. Soft, hurried.
"Ah—is this Alex?"
"Yes?"
"We received your application. Are you still looking for work? Can you come right away? We're very interested in your profile."
His heart skipped a beat.
He didn't ask what job. Didn't ask who she was. Just:
"Yes. I can come right now."
"Perfect. Initiating transfer. Please don't move. Thank you for accepting the position."
"Transfer? Like... calling me a cab?"
But before the question even left his mouth, his vision flickered. He blinked—and the world had changed.
He was standing in a forest.
The air was fresh. Too fresh. The kind of crisp, green air that didn't exist anywhere near home. Birds chirped. Something distant howled. The trees around him were thick and old, their roots curling over moss-covered rocks.
He blinked again.
"Okay," he muttered. "Dream. Gotta be a dream."
He closed his eyes and opened them. Still in the forest.
Pinched his cheek. Hurt.
Took a deep breath. Awake.
Deep inside, he already knew. He had played enough games. Killed enough time watching trashy media to know.
This was it.
He'd been isekai'd.
At the worst possible time.
"I was finally about to get a job," he groaned.
And then it hit him.
What about his family?
His stomach dropped.
What kind of isekai was this? Was he teleported to another world?
What if he died of a heart attack and was reincarnated? What if time was moving like normal back home? What if his parents would walk into his room and find—
"No." He slapped his own cheek, hands trembling. "Don't think about that now."
He took a few deep breaths, forcing himself to think logically.
"What do I do now? What CAN I do now?"
He looked around. No people. No cameras... This could be a random forest back home, there's no way to know for sure if he's in a fantasy world.
Well, if this was isekai, he might as well check.
He raised a hand. "Screen!"
Nothing.
"...Status!"
Silence.
"...System?"
Still nothing.
He coughed, cheeks red. "I must look so ridiculous right now..."
He checked his pockets instead. Phone. Wallet.
Coins. ID and bank cards. Omamori souvenir from a trip to Japan. Business cards from interviewers.
Phone was fully charged.
No signal.
He sighed and moved to shut it off—then paused.
There was a new icon.
A white and yellow eye.
Text below: God's Eye.
"...Don't tell me."
He tapped it.
The phone glowed. A screen projected outward into the air.
It was a status menu.
"Holy sh—"
But before he could finish, a rustle behind him.
Three tiny figures emerged from the brush.
Small. Green. Big round eyes. Crude clothes made of hide and dried leaves.
Goblins.
"Chagga! Gruchuma!" one shouted, thrusting a tiny spear.
The other two clumsily raised their clubs.
He blinked.
"They're... adorable." He was sure he'd buy plushies or figures of them if they existed in any fantasy game.
They barely reached his knees.
He didn't feel threatened. If anything, he felt... validated. The menu. The goblins. This was a fantasy world.
This is it, he thought. My powers will awaken now. Probably got some cheat skill...
The goblins crept closer, preparing their weapons.
He decided to go first. They're only little goblins, how hard could it be? Just kick them hard like a football.
"Sorry, little dudes," he said, rushing forward and kicking the spear-goblin in the face. "Self-defense Kick!"
It went flying.
He grinned. "Okay, yeah. This is doable."
He turned to kick the next one.
It dove out of the way.
The third goblin smashed the back of his knee with its club.
He collapsed, his knee hitting the ground, now at bashing distance.
The dodging goblin quickly rose up, hitting him with the club as he tried to cover his face.
"Ow—hey!" he shouted.
Another hit from behind. And another. The goblins wailed on him like angry toddlers with rage issues.
They were actually stronger than a human toddler, go figure.
Darkness.
He woke up groaning.
He was in a tiny cage made of sticks. Seated, hunched over. His whole body hurt.
Small shadows poked him with a stick.
Goblins. Smaller than the ones before. Children, probably.
The moment he stirred, they squeaked and ran. "Gruchuma!"
He groaned, looking around. A full goblin village. Mud huts, fires, smoke.
He reached for his pocket. If he can access that status screen again, he'll be able to get a skill or power and get out of this mess, right?
Empty.
He looked down.
Boxers only.
Across the village, one goblin wore his white hoodie like a cape. Another poked his phone curiously.
Worse, he couldn't understand a word anyone around him said. Goblin-tongue was like nothing he'd ever heard before.
"...Great."
He took slow breaths.
He doesn't know if they'll actually kill him if he tries to break out or makes a scene.
Stay calm.
He examined the cage. Sturdy. Well-crafted.
Damned goblin carpenters and their primitive but durable craftsmanship.
Then, small feet approached.
The goblin kids were back.
One brave little goblin held out a strange fruit. Trembling as other kids hid behind him.
"Gobba!" it squeaked.
A screen appeared over the little goblin.
[Side Quest: Befriend the Goblin Tribe]
Reward: Skill - Goblin Language III
Alex blinked.
"...What?!"
Startled by the sudden screen prompt, Alex flinched—making the goblin kids squeak and retreat again, dropping the fruit on the ground.
A moment later, the larger goblin he'd kicked earlier stomped forward, recognizable by his green face being swollen and bruised, one eye nearly shut. He pointed a stick at Alex and began shouting in sharp, angry goblin tones.
"GRUCHUMA!! KAMU?! Me brutu! Zamubrekka! YE ZAMUBREKKA ME!!"
Alex winced, more at the tone than the content—he still couldn't understand any of it. What bothered him more was the floating screen, now above the goblin warrior's head:
[Side Quest: Befriend the Goblin Tribe]
Reward: Skill - Goblin Language III
Side Quest? There's three levels?? Wait, the screen can pop up without the phone???
He blinked again and muttered, "S-System? Status? Side Quest? Skills?"
He blurted out anything that might trigger another screen.
Nothing.
He waited.
Still nothing.
The screen hovered for a second longer before fading away.
Alex groaned. "So the screens can show up on their own... but I can only bring them up through my phone? What if I can't get to it? What if it runs out of battery? What if it breaks?! This is terrible UI! Terrible design, gods!"
He sniffled. Actual tears pricked his eyes.
The goblin warrior blinked at him. The fury shifted into bafflement.
The kids crept back again, staring at the strange, weepy human.
One brave little goblin approached, holding the fruit. "...Gobba?"
The goblin warrior growled low, watching carefully.
Alex sniffled again, then looked at the fruit.
"...Thank you, little goblin," he said quietly, accepting it.
He bit into it. Sweet, with a tangy aftertaste. His eyes widened. He hadn't realized how hungry he was.
He'd skipped breakfast and lunch, then got isekai'd, beat up, and caged. Of course he was starving.
The fruit was good.
Really good.
The goblins were still watching. The kids curious, the warrior cautious.
He glanced at the fruit. "This... Gobba?"
The kids lit up and nodded furiously.
"Gobba! gobba!"
So it was called gobba.
Gobbas were good.
The goblin warrior huffed something incomprehensible and turned away, mumbling to himself as he left.
The kids remained, watching Alex eat like he was an exotic animal at a zoo.
He sighed.
"...At least the fruit's good."