Question: If you see the truck's headlights just a few centimeters from your face, what do you feel? Happy? Because if you're trash who spends your day playing gacha games and watching anime, this is the moment you've been waiting for. Finally, you can isekai to another world, get overpowered abilities, and build a harem.
Me? I'm angry, feeling stupid for having to die in such a ridiculous way. You know, honestly, I don't want to leave this world—my life is perfect. I was born with a handsome face, a perfect body thanks to my dad's genetics that make even a little exercise sculpt my physique beautifully. I inherited my mom's intelligence, so I could breeze into a top university. I'm rich; my dad being a politician and my mom a brand designer means money has never been an issue in my life. Of course, I've had plenty of girlfriends—from elementary school through college, my girl was always the most beautiful one in school. Everything's perfect, so when I was crossing the street and suddenly a speeding truck slammed into me, I was furious. I cursed fate, God, and whatever force was responsible for snatching away my flawless life.
I'm in a white room, sitting at a simple wooden table. I don't remember how or why I ended up here; the last thing I recall is the blaring horn of the truck, its blinding headlights, the screams of a few people, and then the truck smashing into my body. The pain I felt was minimal—I was too busy being angry to notice it. I guess my death was quick... Death. That's right. I'm dead. So why am I here?
I try to feel my body, making sure I'm really alive. Nothing's off—no pain, no wounds on my skin. If I really got hit by that truck and died, is this the afterlife?
This room—it's white. There's nothing in it at all, just this simple wooden table and two chairs. One chair in front of me, empty. No windows, no doors that I can see. Just white as far as the eye can go. It feels familiar; I know this scene—it's always in the first episode of an isekai anime. The protagonist dies, and out of pity or whatever, a god or some higher power transports them to another world with insane powers. And I even died getting hit by a truck. This is way too clichéd.
A sudden gust of wind blows in, whipping hard enough that I nearly topple off my chair. Then a laugh echoes— the kind of hearty "ho ho ho" Santa Claus does in movies. I try to pinpoint where it's coming from, but there's nothing—no trumpets, no banners, no sleigh pulled by a herd of reindeer.
"Hi."
"Fuck." I nearly jump out of my chair when I hear the voice. Now, sitting in front of me is an old man. His long hair and beard are white, his cheeks chubby, a smile playing on his lips. His body's huge and plump, like a ball with arms, legs, and a head slapped on. He's dressed in a black shirt, a white one underneath, and a red tie. He almost looks like the Cheetos mascot, except his skin tone is normal.
"Sorry to startle you," he says kindly, his voice like a grandfather chatting with his grandkid. I have to shake my head a few times because for a second, I thought it was my own grandpa's voice—he's been gone for years.