“Tch, again!”

  I felt my chest tighten, a familiar pang of longing mixed with a dull, aching frustration. I knew I should refrain from reading these novels. I knew I should put the phone down, close the browser, and try to find some semblance of peace in the reality I actually inhabited. But I couldn't. I was addicted to the stimulation. Every time I opened a new story, I didn't just read about a protagonist; I projected myself into their skin. I walked through their cities, fought their monsters, and shared their triumphs.

  The games were similar, though they didn't quite have the same visceral pull as a well-written novel. In a game, I made the choices, and that gave them an alluring, special quality. But whether it was a book or a digital world, I couldn't free myself from the cycle. I spent my hours dreaming of journeys I would never take, friends I would never meet, and kingdoms I would never build. I imagined myself equipping legendary gear, establishing powerful organizations, and growing strong enough to protect those I loved—so I wouldn't have to live with the crushing weight of regret.

  Even as I lay there, the excitement began to bubble up again, and it was the very source of my suffering. I didn't think my life was miserable in the objective sense—I had a job, a roof, and food—but humans are inherently greedy creatures. When we see a world of magic and wonder, we want it for ourselves. Why wouldn't I want to traverse a world of adventure? Why wouldn't I want to stand before a living dragon, watching the flames erupt from its maw, and know whether that creature was my sworn enemy or my greatest ally?

  I didn't need to be a "goody-two-shoes" hero. Many people were bored with those clichéd shounen protagonists anyway. I would have been perfectly content as a villain. I wasn't a sadist, of course, but the "perfect hero" archetype felt fundamentally unrealistic. However, it would still be better to be a man revered by noble ladies—even if I didn't have the "balls" to handle their affections—than to be my current, mundane self.

  I cursed the characters I read about, angry at their choices or their naivety. I cursed the authors who gave their protagonists half-assed excuses for their decisions. But beneath the anger was a deep, searing jealousy for people who didn't even exist. My health was withering under the weight of this obsession, and yet I couldn't stop.

  “Phew!” I let out a long, ragged breath. I needed that. I had to let the frustration out from time to time just to keep moving, even if the entire conversation was taking place inside my own head.

  I looked at the clock. The sun was about to rise. It was way past the time I should have been asleep, but sleep felt like a waste when compared to the vibrant worlds I had just left. Still, I threw my body onto the bed like a corpse.

  “Good night, you lucky protagonists,” I muttered with a bitter smile. “Wish me luck”.

  I want to experience something like that too, I thought wishfully, closing my eyes. Even if it’s just a dream. Please, just once.

  I woke up to a chilling breeze that cut right through my clothes. The surface beneath me was hard and uneven—not at all like the mattress I had fallen onto just hours before.

  “Yawn... Ah, come on. Even a dream is too much to ask for?”

  I yawned and rubbed my eyes, trying to sober up from the fog of sleep. It felt like a fruitless rest; I didn't even remember dreaming. I sat up, reaching for my phone to see which story I should continue or which game I needed to finish.

  But my hand touched grass. My eyes snapped open.

  “Huh?! Where... where is this?”

  I wasn't in my room. I was sitting in the middle of the wilderness. My clothes were different—rougher, stranger—and there was the unmistakable weight of a sword hanging at my waist. The shock was so sudden that my brain struggled to process the reality of the situation.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Calm down, I told myself. I had dealt with enough panic attacks in my old life to know how to steady my breathing quickly. I needed to assess my condition first, then my environment, and only then could I decide on a course of action.

  Physically, I felt... incredible. I was energized, and there was a strange, unfamiliar sensation coursing through my body. It wasn't a bad feeling; it was as if my senses had been sharpened to a razor's edge. The sun was high overhead, suggesting it was around noon. I was in a forest, but the area immediately around me was a small, empty clearing.

  The trees further away were dense and concentrated, but it was the vegetation nearby that truly caught my eye. There were massive purple mushrooms scattered among the trees, easily the height of a large bush. They weren't static; they were swaying in an unnatural, rhythmic way that had nothing to do with the wind. It was as if they were occupying more space than their physical forms allowed, then snapping back into their original positions.

  It was an odd, supernatural phenomenon—a clear hint that this world operated under different rules than the one I had left. I tried to suppress the hope rising in my chest. If this wasn't what I thought it was—if this was just some elaborate hallucination—I feared I might actually consider suicide out of pure disappointment.

  Then, I heard it. The distant sounds of a struggle. It wasn't the sound of gunfire or modern bombardment; it was the sound of explosions and a large number of people shouting. To my ears, it sounded like a clash of magic and close-range steel.

  Suddenly, voices drifted through the trees from the direction of the noise.

  “It came from this direction, right?”

  I froze.

  “Yes, I am sure. Are you still doubting me even though I’ve proved my abilities many times?” a second voice replied.

  The speakers were loud enough that I could hear them clearly even from a distance. The first man sounded irritated. “Yes, yes. But it’s better to be safe than sorry. You know our situation. We’ve tricked people into thinking we’re good rangers, but we haven’t done anything eye-catching yet. We need to show results to the commander so he’ll reward us”.

  The second man responded with a wicked, hoarse tone. “I know. Maybe they’re just from a nearby village, but we’ll act like they’re the enemy’s lookout units. If we’re lucky, we can earn some merits off their heads”.

  They didn't sound like good people. They sounded like trouble. I needed to hide, but the second man had mentioned his "abilities." If they had ears as sharp as they claimed, I had to be perfect.

  I moved frantically but silently, finding a hiding spot that wasn't directly in their path. As I willed myself to be quiet, that strange sensation from before intensified. I felt quieter than I ever could have been naturally.

  Did I gain a cheat skill? I wondered. I’d have to test it later.

  The men arrived in the clearing moments later.

  “Where are they? Didn't you say you were certain?” the first man snapped.

  “Shut it! I am certain!” the second man replied, his voice full of frustration. “Something is weird. There’s a trace of mana, but it’s so weak it feels like it belongs to an animal”.

  The first man burst into laughter, mocking his partner’s impeccable senses. But as they argued, I caught a glimpse of them through the leaves of the bushes. My heart nearly hammered out of my chest.

  The second man was humanoid, but he had unmistakable cat ears on his head and a tail behind his back. He was a beastman.

  This is it, I thought, the realization finally sinking in. This is certainly a different world. A fantasy world.

  The men eventually gave up and changed course, disappearing into the woods. I stayed hidden for a long time, waiting to be absolutely sure they were gone. The "strange feeling" continued to respond to my will, masking my presence.

  I felt surprisingly comfortable in the wilderness. Usually, someone unaccustomed to the woods would feel a sense of dread or discomfort, but I felt at home.

  [Huh. I doubt you'd be happy if you were captured by that isekai animal-eared guy.]

  I jumped. The voice didn't come from the forest; it felt like it came from directly inside my brain. It was mocking and familiar, yet I felt like a piece of my memory was missing—as if something had been blanked out.

  I shook my head, refusing to let paranoid thoughts soil my new life. I decided to move. They had come from the direction of the fighting, so I would go the opposite way.

  I hadn't been walking for long when someone stepped out from behind a tree and blocked my path.

  [Edited]