Day 1 before the Tragedy
Rrrring… Rrrring…
The sound of my alarm wake me out of a very important dream — I was about to win a fight against a vending machine that ate my coins.
Still half-asleep, I reached blindly for my phone on the bedside table. The screen lit up like the gates of heaven, forcing my barely open eyes to shut even tighter.
Monday, April 20 — 6:00 AM.
Ugh. Why is the weekend is really short? Seriously, can't we, as a species, evolve past the five-day work week? Ten-day weeks — five weekdays, five weekends. That is my routine thought every monday morning.
Anyway, I started my morning routine like always: wash my face, brush my teeth, take a shower… and of course, take a dump. I will never stop being grateful for modern plumbing. If I ever get reincarnated in a fantasy world, my first question won't be about swords or magic — it'll be "Do you guys have toilets?"
Breakfast, the most important meal of the day — or at least, that's what people who have time say. A few slices of bread and butter were enough to kickstart my body and fill my body with energy.
I hopped on my trusty bicycle and headed toward the nearest train station. My commute to the office takes about 20 minutes. Twenty minutes of dodging potholes, suspicious pigeons, and the occasional thought of quitting my job and becoming a potato farmer in the mountains.
My parents always wanted me to become a doctor. They said it's a noble profession. To my dear parents, if it were that easy, I'd be a heart surgeon with three clinics by now. I was consistently in the bottom five of my class. Not top five. Bottom five. The only thing I specialized in was creative ways to avoid math homework.
Honestly, they should be thankful I even have a job, one that gives me enough to send them a little money each month. In this economy, that's practically sainthood.
At the office, I have a small, quiet, comfortable spot. From 9 a.m. to 8 p.m., that chair is my kingdom. My butt has spent more time in that seat than it did in any place. Occasionally, I walk around to prevent deep vein thrombosis, because I read one WebMD article and panicked.
In five years of working there, I've never had a real conversation with my coworkers. It's not that I hate people. I just think "talking" is… optional. I'm here to do a job, not making friends. Which is why I've skipped over ten office events, birthdays, and reunions. Not once did I feel guilty.
You might be thinking, "Ah, he's an introvert."
No. I'm just realistic. Socializing takes energy. And energy is finite. Like my will to reply to group chats.
After 8 p.m., the office was empty. Everyone else had already clocked out and gone home. I always stayed behind, making sure everything was settled for the day. Papers aligned, emails sent, spreadsheets double-checked, what a life.
On the way home, I stopped by the usual corner shop. Instant noodles and a bottle of carbonated soda, the dinner of champions. And no, I'm not a smoker. I never understood why people spend money to shorten their lifespan. Life's already a speedrun, no need to hit the fast-forward button. Appreciate your lungs, folks.
By 9 p.m., I arrived at my apartment. Small, quiet, and perfectly mediocre. That's it. That's the routine I've followed for the past five years. Day in, day out. Repeat.
"Hey, you're back already, Alan."
I was greeted by Bob.
Oh, did I forget to mention? I live with my best friend, Bob. An overweight, single, proudly jobless male with an unhealthy obsession with anime, anime girls, video games, anime girls, light novels, and, did I mention anime girls?
His daily routine is the complete opposite of mine. We rent this apartment together, though calling it a joint payment is a stretch. I usually end up covering the rent because, at the end of the month he unleashes a barrage of excuses worthy of an Oscar. Meanwhile, I can clearly see the new anime figurines and game releases piling up in his room. I don't even know where he gets the money.
"Yeah," I replied, exhausted.
"You didn't forget the usual thing, right?"
"Of course. Here it is." I handed him the noodles and soda.
"Hehe, thanks, buddy. Hey! The final episode of My Life as a Harem Magnet in a Fantasy World is starting! Come on!"
"Let me change my clothes first," I sighed, retreating to my room.
A few minutes later, I joined him in front of the TV, and as usual, he transformed into a hyperactive kid the moment the show started.
"I'm so jealous!"
"Why would he reject that girl?!"
"Damn that tsundere—just admit you like him already!"
I was already used to it since we've known each other since childhood. His father once asked me to bring Bob to the city so he could find a job, and my parents,who were good friends with his,encouraged me to agree.
At first, he did try. He worked at a grocery store. But later, he claimed it didn't meet his "standard" because it interfered with his schedule. And by schedule, he meant anime events, voice actor meet-and-greets, and anything remotely otaku-related. Most of the time, he dragged me along too.
You remember how I told you I always skip office gatherings? Well, with Bob, I never miss an event. Not once.
I don't know why exactly. Maybe it's the way his eyes light up when he's excited. Maybe it's because I know his past which I don't want to talk about that now. All I know is, I can't bring myself to say no when I see him happy.
"Wow, that was fantastic! What did you think of the ending?" he asked as the credits rolled.
"The ending was super cliché. You seriously watch all these shows knowing the hero's going to win every time."
"Tch tch tch... that's where you're wrong."
Bob dramatically raised his right index finger. His glasses glinted.
"The most important thing is the process and the growth, dude. That's what makes a story great! Sure, the ending matters—but for me, I watch it as a whole."
"Yeah, yeah... whatever," I muttered, shaking my head.
"Haah... I really wish I could enter another world," Bob said, eyes sparkling as he flushed with excitement. "Go on epic adventures, meet beautiful girls, and build my dream harem..."
"I hope your dream comes true," I said dryly. "Even though it's completely impossible."
"If I do get isekai'd, I'll definitely bring you with me, Alan! We'd make a great duo!"
"No thanks. I'm already grateful for what I have here, so... I'll pass."
"Such a party pooper. You're so boring. Whatever, I'm going to work on my secret project now." He stood up and waddled toward his room.
"What project? Your web novel?"
"Nah… No one appreciates the brilliance of my fantasy harem masterpiece. It's too complex for the lowlife masses to comprehend. So I've retired as an author."
"This new one's a top-secret mission. So it's a secret!"
He grinned and did a sparkling anime-girl pose, complete with a "teehee" sound that made me nearly vomit my noodles.
What project is he on? Surely it's something anime related. Knowing Bob, it's probably another one of his ridiculous obsessions—maybe building a waifu AI or some magical girl cosplay.
I didn't think much about it.
I cleaned up the dishes, stretched a little, and went to bed.
Just another normal, boring, uneventful day, I thought.
I had no idea…
…that it would be the last.