Raka Setiawan, 23 years old, fresh graduate, and jobless for the past eight months.
That day, he was sprawled on his worn-out bed, playing a gacha game on his cracked phone while it was charging with a cable so frayed it looked like a dead snake. His legs were propped against a wall with peeling paint, flaking off like a snake shedding its skin.
"Damn it, gacha again, gacha again," he muttered, tapping the phone screen. "This time I'm definitely getting an SSR!"
BZZZT!
A jolt of electricity shot through the frayed cable. Raka's body convulsed like he was doing some cursed breakdance. His phone flew from his hands, the game still stuck on the loading screen, flashing erratically.
"Shit… am I really gonna die because of a cheap cable?" Those were his last words before his vision blurred, his head spun, and everything went pitch black.
***
When Raka opened his eyes, he found himself in a place he didn't recognize. Everything around him was pure white—like a hospital, but without that sharp antiseptic smell.
In front of him stood a figure with long silver hair, wearing flowing robes that fluttered despite the absence of wind. His face was handsome, almost angelic, but his expression screamed half-asleep.
"Welcome, lost soul," the figure said in a voice that was supposed to sound divine but came off more like a bored call center agent. "I am Zephyr, God of Reincarnation and—wait, who the hell are you?"
The god glanced at the scroll in his hand, his eyes widening.
"WHAT?! I was supposed to get Raki Yamamoto, the genius med student destined to save the world! And instead, I get… uh… who are you?"
"Raka Setiawan. Unemployed," Raka answered bluntly.
"UNEMPLOYED?!" the god roared, ruffling his own hair in frustration. "I screwed up! I picked the wrong soul! It was supposed to be the med student who died from electrocution, not some… jobless nobody! Same address, similar name—damn it!"
"So… I died because of a clerical error?" Raka asked, dumbfounded.
"Uh… yeah, pretty much," Zephyr admitted, scratching his head. "But since you're already dead, what can I do? Fine, I'll just reincarnate you into a fantasy world. Don't expect any overpowered hero skills though—you're not exactly hero material."
"Wait, hold on, I didn't—"
"YOSH! REINCARNATION, BEGIN!"
BOOM!
Raka was swallowed by a blinding vortex of light. The last thing he saw was Zephyr's smirk, like someone who just pulled off a savage prank.
***
SPLASH!
Raka landed face-first in a swamp that reeked like a public sewer. The water was black and slimy, with rotting leaves floating around—and worse, something was moving beneath the surface.
"BLEEEHHH!" he gagged, crawling toward the muddy bank. "Damn you, you sadistic god! Who spawns someone in a swamp? What kind of game does that?!"
When he caught his reflection in the murky water, he froze. His body was scrawny, his hair long and wild like a homeless man's, and the ragged cloth on his body looked more like a dirty mop than clothing.
"God… I look like a total hobo," he groaned.
Then, from the distance, a terrifying roar echoed through the trees. Raka's blood ran cold. He glanced toward the sound—and saw glowing red eyes peering out from the bushes.
"Nope. Nope. NOPE!"
Raka bolted, legs squelching through the mud, reeking of swamp water.
But fate wasn't done screwing with him. His foot caught in a hole, and he tumbled head over heels—straight into another swamp, even deeper than the first.
"ZEPHYR, YOU BASTARD!" he screamed at the sky, spitting swamp water. "I CURSE YOU, I SWEAR!"
From somewhere above, he thought he heard a faint chuckle. That smug god was probably watching and laughing his divine ass off.
And that was Raka's first day in a fantasy world.
No epic hero's journey. No chosen one prophecy. Just a swampy, stinking, mud-covered disaster.
Life really wasn't fair.