Earth, 2026.
On the outside, life still looked normal.
Trains ran on time. Office workers stood in line for coffee before sunrise. Students laughed in convenience stores under bright lights. Phones lit up dark bedrooms. Ads flashed above busy roads. Everyone kept moving like nothing was wrong.
But something was wrong.
The world felt tense. Every day, the news showed the same things—fighting at borders, military build-ups, and leaders giving speeches about peace while everyone quietly prepared for war. Even people who said they did not care seemed more nervous than before, like they were waiting for something bad to happen.
Zack felt it too, even though he tried not to think about it.
He walked home with his work bag over one shoulder. His tie was loose, and his body felt heavy after another long day at his internship. His shoes scraped the sidewalk as he walked. Around him, the city smelled like heat, car smoke, old concrete, and fried food from nearby shops.
At twenty-two, Zack had somehow become exactly what he used to joke about in college.
Average.
Average pay. Average apartment. Average future.
Back then, he liked to joke and say, "Don't worry. I'm training to become Background Character Number Three."
The joke almost never worked.
Honestly, that part still had not changed.
His phone buzzed in his hand.
He looked down and sighed.
Another news alert.
A video opened by itself. A world leader stood behind a shiny podium with flags behind him. He spoke in the same calm, serious voice Zack had heard all week. He used words like security and stability, but Zack still remembered the video clips from earlier that day—smoke, broken buildings, and scared people running through the dust.
Zack watched for two seconds, then locked his phone.
"Nice," he muttered. "Love that for humanity."
Nobody reacted.
A few people walked by without even looking at him.
Zack rubbed his face and shoved the phone back into his pocket.
He did that a lot—made jokes when things felt too serious. It was like he hoped one dumb comment could make reality feel lighter. Most of the time, the joke sounded better in his head. Or the timing was bad. Or nobody cared enough to answer.
He was used to that.
Did not mean he liked it.
Ten more minutes.
That was all that stood between him and home. Ten more minutes before he could shower, put on comfortable clothes, and disappear into something better than real life. Maybe anime. Maybe a light novel. Maybe just lying on his bed with his phone until his brain calmed down.
Without thinking, he opened social media.
Memes. News. Fan art. People arguing in comment sections. Dance videos. Spoiler warnings. A war update between an ad and a joke.
Zack stared at the screen for a moment, then locked it again.
Everything was mixed together now. War, comedy, anger, romance, ads—everything pushed into one endless scroll, each thing replaced by the next before it could really matter.
"What a beautiful civilization," he said quietly.
Silence.
He clicked his tongue and put the phone away.
Yeah. That joke died too.
Zack was Malaysian, with short black hair, dark eyes, and the kind of face people forgot quickly. He was not ugly. He was not handsome either. He just looked normal in the most normal way possible. His skin had a warm tone from years under the tropical sun. His body was lean and fit—not because he was super hardworking, but because he had finally realized that doing something was better than doing nothing.
That lesson had come late.
For years, Zack had been lazy in a quiet way. Not dramatic lazy. Just the kind where you keep saying, I'll do it later.
Later, he would take life seriously.
Later, he would think about money.
Later, he would work harder.
Later, he would become someone better.
Then later came.
Now he had an internship that paid just enough, a closet full of simple clothes, and a growing fear that he had drifted straight into the kind of life he used to make fun of.
"Character development," he muttered. "Just backwards."
That one at least made him smile a little.
His apartment showed more of the real Zack than most people ever saw. Shelves lined the walls, filled with novels, manga, and a few cheap figures he kept buying even after telling himself to stop. His old laptop spent most nights playing anime while he ate convenience store dinners at his desk. Fantasy worlds, magic schools, reborn heroes, lucky romances—stories where life could suddenly become exciting and meaningful.
Zack knew most of it was silly.
That was part of why he liked it.
And hidden inside all those private daydreams was one fantasy he would never say out loud without wanting to disappear on the spot.
An isekai harem.
Even in his own head, it sounded embarrassing.
Cheap. Dumb. The kind of thing he should have grown out of years ago. But the part that really pulled him in was not only the obvious part.
It was the feeling under it.
Being wanted.
Being chosen.
Walking into a room and actually mattering.
Maybe by several people, which, okay, sounded really pathetic when he thought about it too hard, but still.
Real life had never given Zack much proof that he was unforgettable. He was the guy whose jokes fell flat. The guy who blended into the background. The guy supervisors mixed up with other interns. But in fiction, even the most average nobody could fall into another world and become someone important.
That kind of dream stayed with him.
Not because he was brave.
Not because he was bold.
Because he knew what it felt like to be overlooked.
And lately, he had started getting tired of that.
Not enough to change overnight. He was not that motivated. But enough to feel annoyed when he saw his tired face in a mirror. Enough to wonder if he could keep drifting through life and still act surprised when nothing changed.
He still did not know what to do about that.
By the time he reached his building, the sky had turned a dark, bruised blue. The hallway outside his apartment was quiet and dim. A weak lightbulb buzzed overhead.
Zack stopped at his door and pulled out his keys.
The metal felt cold and familiar in his hand.
He put the key into the lock and turned it.
Click.
The sound echoed down the hallway.
The door creaked open.
Warm light spilled across the floor and onto the faded welcome mat. For one second, Zack saw the usual view of home: his messy desk, his unmade bed, the half-open bag of chips he had forgotten to throw away. The quiet mess of a life mostly lived alone.
He lifted one foot to step inside.
And found nothing there.
His body froze before his mind caught up.
No floor.
No carpet.
No room.
The desk, the bed, the walls—everything past the doorway was gone. In its place was a huge black emptiness so deep and silent that his mind could not understand it. It did not look empty.
It looked wrong.
For one broken second, Zack stood there with one foot hanging in the air, staring into the darkness where his apartment should have been.
Then gravity pulled him down.
Zack dropped with a shocked cry. His bag slipped off his shoulder as both arms flew out. His fingers grabbed at empty air. There was nothing to hold. Nothing to stop him. Only cold darkness swallowing him whole.
"Wha—?!"
The sound ripped out of his throat.
Above him, the shape of his doorway grew smaller and smaller, the warm light shrinking fast.
"WAIT—WHAT?!"
His voice vanished into the void.
Wind rushed past his ears. His stomach twisted. His thoughts broke apart all at once—his room, his door, the floor, where was the floor, this had to be a dream, this made no sense—
But the fall was real.
Terrifyingly real.
His body spun helplessly in the dark. Panic hit him in hot, choking waves. He could not think. Could not breathe right. Could barely understand what was happening.
And somewhere inside all that fear, one stupid thought floated to the top.
Small. Embarrassed. Almost angry.
No way.
No actual way.
…Did I seriously just get isekai'd right when I was starting to think about becoming a functional human being?
.