Arin woke up under an unfamiliar ceiling. A sharp pain throbbed in his head.
"Fuck…" he muttered, clutching his temples.
Suddenly, memories surged in—hundreds of small, sharp images: the hundredth rejection, cursing gods and goddesses under his breath, and the long walk home that should have been uneventful. He tried to scream, but no sound came out. Darkness claimed him again.
When he opened his eyes, panic gripped him. Something was… wrong.
His skin shimmered like jade. His hands weren't his own. His heart skipped a beat as he stumbled to the nearest mirror.
He froze. The face staring back wasn't his.
Memories flooded again, this time sharper, more personal.
When he was ten, he had worked up the courage to propose to the girl he liked. She laughed. "No." That was his first rejection—but certainly not the last.
He'd grown up chasing approval and love in all the wrong places: dozens of dating sims, countless novels where he imagined himself as the hero, countless failures in real life. Nothing ever worked out. And now… staring at this jade-skinned stranger in the mirror, he wondered if even this world had mercy on him.
"Where the hell am I?" he whispered.
Arin's hands shook as he stared at his reflection. Jade skin. Emerald eyes. Perfect hair that belonged on a game character—not a human like him.
Something was off.
In every novel he had read, every game he had played, every transmigration story he had watched: the moment the protagonist arrived, a god, goddess, or mysterious force would appear. A glowing sword, a magic system, or some ridiculous OP ability would fall into their lap. That's how stories worked.
…Right?
He looked around the small, dim room. No glowing sigils. No floating lights. No voice booming from nowhere.
Nothing.
"Where are the gods?" he muttered, voice trembling. "Where's my OP power? My cheat? My destiny?"
Silence.
The realization hit him like a truck—literally. Maybe this wasn't a game-world trope. Maybe… hewas alone here.
Panic bubbled up. He thought of every rejected proposal, every failed game strategy, every useless dating sim ending he had endured. And now, even in a new world… he didn'tgeta singlebreak.
The more he looked at himself, the more questions piled up.
Why hadn't any god or goddess shown up?
One thing was certain: the usual rules didn't apply here. And Arin… had no idea if surviving meant cleverness, luck, or something far worse.
Arin paced the tiny room, palms pressed to his face.
"Okay… think," he muttered. "Every game ever… every novel… there's always a system. Stats. Inventory. Cheat codes. Powers. Something."
He straightened, took a deep breath, and shouted:
"STATUS! SHOW ME MY STATS!"
Nothing.
"SYSTEM! INVENTORY! ANYONE! HELP!"
The room stayed silent. The walls were still plain, the mirror still reflected his jade-skinned face… and still no glowing text floated before him.
He banged his fists on the wall. "What the hell? Why isn't it working? Why… why isn't anyone giving me powers?"
He remembered every story, every trope, every magical tutorial: the gods always notice. They always choose. They always reward the protagonist.
…And yet here he was. Alone.
Alone, powerless, and very, very confused.
A small, bitter laugh escaped him. "So this is it? This is the big transmigration miracle everyone talks about? A fancy body and… no instructions?"
The silence answered. Yes. Yes, it was.