Ping!

The sound jolts me from my momentary daze. It’s almost the end of the month, but the money I’m expecting still hasn’t arrived. Did I get scammed? I reach for my phone, uninterested—until my eyes widen at the notification: “Payment has been sent.”

“Yes!” A wide smile spreads across my face. He’s a legit client! I retract my earlier doubts, my excitement bubbling up. I can’t resist licking the leftover cheese powder from my fingers—every bit of my late-night cheesy curls worth it.

With adrenaline pumping, I quickly clean my hands with a wet wipe and open my banking app to confirm.

It’s midnight, and there I am, sprawled in front of my computer, the screen’s glow illuminating my workspace. Snack crumbs scatter the table, and my once-fizzy soft drink lies empty, drained to the last drop. I flick the can into the trash with a triumphant wrist flick.

Finally, I can buy my dream shoes! I exclaim, twirling in my office chair.

For six long months, I’ve been stashing spare change and savings into a time-deposit account to take advantage of compounding interest. The wait is over—all for this moment. I’ve been counting down to this month, fingers crossed they still have my size in stock.

After wrapping up my latest project, I shut down my computer and stretch my hands before sinking into bed. Satisfaction washes over me—nothing beats waking up to see my bank account glimmer with cash!

After a refreshing four-hour nap and a quick shower, I pull on the first outfit I find in my closet, a playful ensemble that matches my buoyant mood. I twist my hair into a messy bun, feeling the rush of anticipation. My new home still holds that delightful fresh scent; it’s only been four months since I bought it, but it already feels like a dream come true. Sure, I don’t have a car yet, but that can wait—today is all about one thing…

“My dream shoes!”

Walking through the massive entrance of the popular mall, I’m nearly overwhelmed by its sheer size, my excitement pulling me in every direction. But as soon as I grasp the shopping bag with my new kicks—on sale, no less—it feels like I’ve hit the jackpot. I can almost hear celebratory cheers in my mind: a new home, a thriving career, and now, the shoes I’ve dreamed of for ages. And what’s a celebration without a drink? This is living!

“Time to go home!”

As I push open the mall’s glass door, a gust of air from the entrance sweeps past, startling me. My shopping bag slips from my hand, and I lunge forward to catch it. But as I grab hold, the world around me lurches, a jolt that leaves me stumbling. I shake my head, thinking it’s just lack of sleep. But when I regain my balance, I’m confronted by a sight that stops me cold.

What the… hell?

The bustling mall is gone, replaced by a nightmarish battlefield where armored warriors on horseback clash in a frenzied battle. The clash of swords, the snorts of war horses, and fierce war cries fill the air, drowning out all rational thought. It’s like I’ve stepped straight into a scene from 300—but more vivid, more real, more terrifying.

Frozen in place, my mind scrambles to process the chaos before me. My cranberry drink trembles in my hand as I avert my gaze toward the brutal clash, where the thunder of hooves and warriors’ roars drown out my thoughts, overwhelming my senses.

I try to step back, but I collide with someone, losing my grip on the drink. Sticky, bright liquid splashes across my shirt, its absurd normalcy jarring against the horrific scene unfolding around me. I stumble backward, panic flaring as I mutter frantic curses under my breath.

Shit! Shit! What the hell is happening?!

“This must be a dream. It has to be.” The words slip out like a desperate prayer, every syllable tinged with disbelief. I scan the chaos around me, catching glimpses of the endless desert stretching beyond the battlefield. “There’s no way this is real.”

Then, something heavy crashes to the ground in front of me—a severed head rolls to my feet, blood still streaming from its neck. Its lifeless eyes twitch as if they’re about to open, and for one horrifying moment, they lock onto mine. A wave of nausea hits, and I stagger backward in terror.

My legs buckle, and I collapse onto the scorching sand, clutching my shopping bag as if it’s my last link to sanity. As darkness closes in, I can’t muster a protest. I’m slipping under, powerless to resist.

You know how it goes in those fantasy stories: one minute, you’re lounging in your newly purchased house, planning your future—and the next, bam! You’re transported to another world. But instead of a magical princess, a cunning villainess, or a super-powered hero, you’re just… you.

No royal bloodline, no epic abilities, and definitely no mystical creature sidekick. Just a regular person with no money, no connections, and, oh yeah—no idea how to get home. Perfect!

You’d think I’d at least get some cool perks out of this. Maybe a wise old mentor to give me cryptic advice? Nope. A magical artifact I could use to get back home? ha, I wish! 

I once dreamed of a princess lift, but instead, I’m dragged around like a sack of potatoes, barely conscious and soaked in what’s probably an absurd amount of cranberry juice… mixed with something far more disturbing. Ugh, the smell! And to top it off? I’m tossed into a pile of burning bodies, almost getting cremated alive. Yup, definitely the dream escape I was hoping for.

Now, instead of wondering what’s for dinner, I’m focused on survival in a place where people casually chop off heads and ride into battle like it’s just another day at the spa. Whoever thought getting isekai’d was a good idea? Let me find them and give them a good smack.

But hey, maybe I’ll figure out a way out of this mess. Or at least get a refund on those shoes I never got to wear.

Welcome to my life—or whatever this is now. Can I at least get a guideline or a warning sign?!