Under the dim glow of his monitor, a man sat with his jaw clenched tight. His fingers danced across the keyboard like a raging storm.
His pitch-black eyes burned with fury, the cold blue light of the screen glinting off them as he glared with a steel-cutting intensity.
Words poured out in a torrent, each keystroke striking like a blow, venting the depths of his bitter disappointment.
"What a fucking joke," he muttered, his voice catching in his throat as rage threatened to choke him. "Is this what it feels like to fall into the sunk cost fallacy? I've thrown my money away just to read this trash of a novel."
He was tearing apart a fantasy novel he had just finished, each sentence he wrote striking like a merciless blow.
"Lifeless, flat characters without a shred of soul, a plot thinner than a single strand of hair, and world-building? I'd rather call it a bunch of clichés thrown together without a second thought! Honestly, I could've let those parts slide…"
His fingers pounded the keys even harder, as if he wanted to smash his keyboard into dust.
"But what I cannot forgive, what drives me absolutely insane, is THIS—WHY THE HELL IS THE HEROINE ACTUALLY A GUY WHO GOT GENDER-BENDERED, HUH?! AND WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU REVEAL IT AT THE VERY END OF THE STORY?!"
He couldn't believe it. His favorite heroine, the cheerful girl who had been so quick to befriend the protagonist since the very beginning… Ah… so that was the reason she got along so easily with him, wasn't it? Because he was actually a guy all along! Damn it, it all makes sense now! he screamed inside his head.
His face flushed deep red, veins bulging at his temples as his emotions surged out of control.
Each line of his review exploded with anger, each word a raw reflection of a reader's crushed expectations.
Then, out of nowhere, his monitor flashed with an intense white light, so bright it seared his eyes.
He instinctively shut his eyes tight, a single thought roaring through his mind.
Shit! What the hell is this? Wait… no way! Am I seriously about to get sucked into the monitor and dumped into some shitty fantasy world like one of those goddamn transmigration novels? No way, I'm not letting that happen!
Without a moment's hesitation, he raised his hand, took a deep breath, and screamed at the top of his lungs.
"ARGHH!"
His arm shot forward, crashing straight into the monitor. His hand smashed through the screen, shattering it completely.
His breathing was ragged, heart pounding in his chest like a war drum. He clutched his head and scanned the room around him.
Shit… thank god I acted fast. If I hadn't, I could've been pulled into some random fantasy world and forced to save it under the orders of some war-hardened commander who's fought a thousand battles.
He let out a long, shaky sigh. "Looks like I'll have to buy a new monitor…"
He pulled out his phone, ordered a replacement, and was about to call it a night when a notification suddenly popped up on his screen.
[Play this game for free!] The notification displayed an app icon showing a sinister black castle, towering and ominous.
"Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me," he scoffed with a dry laugh. "Do they really think I'm dumb enough to download some shady app like that after all this?"
Shaking his head, he chuckled softly. "I'd rather just sleep," he muttered, then jumped into his bed, hugging his favorite waifu dakimakura pillow close to his chest. A faint smile crossed his face as exhaustion finally took over.
----
Morning came, soft rays of sunlight sneaking through the worn curtains to gently pull him from his sleep.
His eyelids fluttered open, his mind still foggy with the remnants of last night's anger and adrenaline.
His hand throbbed with pain from punching his monitor. Memories of nearly being sucked into it flooded back, and he winced at the thought.
With a sluggish groan, he pushed himself up from his bed and stumbled toward the bathroom. Cold water splashed across his face, jolting his still-hazy senses awake and clearing the lingering haze from his mind.
He lifted his gaze to the mirror. There, he saw a reflection of tired, puffy eyes, messy hair sticking up in odd directions, and a faint stubble starting to creep across his jawline.
"It's probably time for a shave," he murmured to himself.
He got himself ready as best he could, throwing on a loose t-shirt and a pair of old shorts, before deciding to head out to the supermarket. His fridge was nearly empty, containing only a few eggs and a sad clump of leftover rice.
His stomach growled hungrily, demanding something more substantial than scraps. He grabbed his worn-out motorbike keys and his wallet, then stepped out of his modest apartment.
––––
The morning air was crisp and cool, brushing against his skin still warm from sleep.
He strolled casually along the cracked sidewalk, savoring the rare quiet of a city that was usually bursting with chaos.
His mind drifted to thoughts of breakfast. Maybe he'd make some special fried rice with a sunny-side-up egg and crispy crackers, or just settle for instant noodles if he felt too lazy to cook anything fancy.
He even remembered a recipe he'd seen on TakTok the night before, maybe he'd give it a shot if he felt adventurous enough.
As he was lost in those culinary daydreams, the screech of tires cut through the morning calm, followed by the roar of an engine straining at its limits.
A battered orange garbage truck, its rear bed overflowing with foul-smelling trash, came barreling down the road from the opposite direction.
The truck swerved violently, the driver clearly having lost all control. It veered straight toward him. His heart nearly stopped cold.
His eyes widened in horror, frozen as the mechanical beast of death bore down on him.
His mind exploded with instinctive calculations, every sense hyper-focused. The truck loomed closer, its horn blaring in a shrill, terrifying wail.
At the last possible second, his body moved on pure reflex, leaping backward and rolling to the side in a desperate bid to dodge the speeding truck.
His movements were nearly flawless, like a stuntman or an acrobat fighting for his life.
The truck roared past, slamming into a roadside utility pole with a bone-shaking crash. It flipped, spilling heaps of rancid trash all over the street.
Dust and smoke billowed into the air, covering the entire area in a choking haze, soon joined by the gasps and shouts of panicked bystanders.
He lay on the cracked sidewalk, chest heaving, his entire body trembling uncontrollably. His knees buckled beneath him, refusing to hold him up.
He collapsed onto the concrete, desperately trying to steady his ragged breathing.
The sickening stench of rotting garbage invaded his nostrils, his stomach lurching violently.
His mind spun in wild, frantic circles.
What the hell was that?! Damn it, I almost died right there. Is this karma for mocking that author last night? Could that author have actually been some kind of hidden god or goddess? Absurd questions crashed through his mind in a chaotic storm.
Then, another horrifying thought struck him, something straight out of the fantasy novels he loved to hate.
Isekai.
Getting sent to another world after being hit by a truck, dying a sudden, tragic death. A shiver ran down his spine at the realization.
That ridiculous trope he always found so cringeworthy and overdone had nearly become his reality.
"No… I refuse to get isekai'd. I still want to enjoy the internet and my mundane, peaceful life," he muttered, steeling himself.