The sound of my alarm cut through the stillness of my room like a knife. A loud, obnoxious beep-beep-beep that dragged me from the depths of sleep into the cold reality of Thursday morning.

I groaned, rolling over to smack the snooze button, but missed on the first try. My palm hit the wooden nightstand instead, and I winced. Great way to start the day.

Peeling my face off the pillow, I squinted at the clock. 7:15 AM. Right on schedule. The faint hum of the neighborhood stirring to life reached my ears—birds chirping, distant sounds of car engines, and my neighbor’s dog barking like it had something to prove.

For a moment, I just lay there, staring at the ceiling. The same cracked white paint I’d been staring at for years. Eighteen. Today, I officially turned eighteen. An adult, technically. Not that I felt any different.

My reflection in the cracked mirror on my desk sure didn’t look any older when I finally dragged myself upright and slid on my glasses. Just the same old Souta Tanaka.

I shuffled toward the mirror, my glasses fogging slightly from the shift in temperature. There I was. Black, perpetually messy hair that refused to cooperate, round glasses that magnified my plain brown eyes, and a face so ordinary it might as well be a default avatar in a game.

My cheeks were a little fuller than they should be, my stomach spilled over the waistband of my sweatpants just enough to remind me of all those late-night instant noodles, and I had a slouch that no amount of nagging from my mom had ever managed to fix.

I wasn’t ugly, I guess. Just… average. A face only a mother could call handsome, if we’re being generous.

Below average in height at 5’6”—nothing impressive, but enough to blend in the back row of group photos. The only thing I’ve got going for me is that I don’t have acne. Small blessings, right?

Yawning, I rubbed my eyes and turned toward my room. The morning sunlight streamed through the small gap in my curtains, highlighting the chaos that was my sanctuary. Anime posters lined the walls, their vibrant colors clashing against the dull beige paint.

My bookshelf sagged under the weight of manga volumes, light novels, and old school textbooks I probably should’ve returned last year.

The desk was no better—a shrine to procrastination covered in empty soda cans, tangled controller cables, and a half-eaten bag of chips that might’ve been there since last weekend.

I shuffled past a stack of game cases on the floor, nearly tripping over a figurine box. “Don’t worry, Asuna,” I muttered, setting it back upright. “You’re safe.”

Kicking aside a crumpled hoodie, I opened my closet and stared at my school uniform. The blazer hung there, pristine, as if mocking me. I grabbed it and started getting dressed, pulling the white shirt over my head and fumbling with the buttons.

My stomach peeked out for a second, and I sighed. Eighteen years old and I still couldn’t say no to second helpings. Or third. Or dessert.

By the time I had the uniform on and semi-presentable, my room looked slightly less chaotic, though that wasn’t saying much.

I glanced at the clock again. 7:40 AM. Plenty of time to scarf down breakfast and catch the train. As I grabbed my backpack, my gaze lingered on my desk. A pile of unopened manga from yesterday’s haul stared back at me.

It’d be waiting for me when I got back. Something to look forward to, at least.

“Happy birthday, Souta,” I muttered under my breath, slinging the bag over my shoulder. The words felt heavy, like they belonged to someone else.

Eighteen. An age where people expect you to start figuring things out, to make big plans for your future. But for me? It was just another Thursday.

The faint buzz of my phone pulled me out of my thoughts as I grabbed it from my desk. The screen lit up, revealing the wallpaper I’d carefully chosen a few weeks ago—a radiant photo of Selena Sawyer.

She was perfect, at least to me. Blonde hair that shone like sunlight, eyes that seemed to see into your soul, and that smile—equal parts angelic and mischievous. Not to mention her figure, which seemed like it had been sculpted by the gods themselves.

She was my idea of perfection, both in looks and the bubbly, carefree personality she always seemed to have in interviews.

Of course, she was a million miles out of my league. No, scratch that. She wasn’t even in the same galaxy as me. Girls like her?

They didn’t end up with guys like me—guys who spent their days gaming, reading manga, and occasionally wondering if a treadmill might be worth investing in (spoiler: it wouldn’t).

I sighed, locking the screen and tucking my phone into my blazer pocket before heading downstairs.

The warm scent of something sweet hit me before I even reached the kitchen. My stomach growled on instinct as I turned the corner to find my mom at the stove, flipping pancakes in a pan.

Pancakes? I blinked, confused. Normally, breakfast at our house was a very traditional affair—steamed rice, grilled fish, miso soup. The kind of balanced, wholesome meal I was sure would’ve been better for me.

But today, in honor of my birthday, my mom had gone rogue. A stack of golden-brown pancakes sat on a plate at the table, topped with a pat of butter slowly melting into the warm surface.

A small dish of syrup glistened nearby, and there was even a bowl of whipped cream. She was plating up the final pancake as I entered.

“Good morning, Souta,” she said with a smile, setting the pan aside. “Happy birthday.”

I froze, staring at the feast in disbelief. “Pancakes? Like… American pancakes?”

She laughed softly. “I thought you’d like something different today. It’s a special occasion, after all.”

“Yeah, special…” I muttered, sliding into my seat and picking up my chopsticks out of habit before quickly swapping them for a fork. I should’ve said no. I should’ve thanked her, grabbed a bowl of miso, and promised myself I’d start eating healthier.

But the scent of the pancakes was too much. The golden edges were crispy, the centers fluffy and soft. The syrup gleamed like liquid gold as I poured it over the stack, watching it seep into every crevice.

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As soon as I took the first bite, I was done for. The pancake practically melted in my mouth, the sweetness of the syrup blending perfectly with the buttery richness.

I added a dollop of whipped cream to the next piece, and it only got better. My resolve to lose weight didn’t stand a chance.

“You really outdid yourself,” I said between bites, my words muffled by a mouthful of pancake.

“Thank you,” she replied, her smile warm as she cleaned up the counter. “I wanted to make something you’d enjoy.”

I wolfed down the last bite, glancing at the clock on the wall as I wiped my mouth with a napkin. 8:05 AM. Crap. I was cutting it close.

“I’ll be late!” I exclaimed, practically leaping out of my chair.

“Slow down,” my mom called as I grabbed my bag and slipped on my shoes in record time. “You’ve still got a few minutes.”

“No time,” I said, hopping on one foot to shove my other shoe on. “Thanks for breakfast! See you later!”

Just as I reached the door, she called after me. “Oh, Souta! I have something for you later—a present.”

“A present?” I paused, half out the door.

She nodded, her expression mysterious. “When you get back. Have a good day.”

I didn’t have time to ask more. “Thanks! You too!” I called, before rushing down the stairs and out into the street.

As I made my way to the station, I couldn’t help but wonder what the present might be. My mom was never one for surprises, which only made this all the more curious. But whatever it was, it would have to wait. For now, the day was just beginning—and if I didn’t hurry, I’d miss the train.

---

School was exactly the same as it always was: a monotonous series of motions I went through because I had to, not because I wanted to. Nobody cared who I was, and honestly, I didn’t blame them.

I wasn’t one of the cool kids, the sporty kids, or the smart kids. I wasn’t even the weird kid everyone avoided. I was just there. A filler character in the background of everyone else’s lives.

The only reason I still showed up every day was because of my dad. If it were up to me, I’d have dropped out ages ago, but that wasn’t an option.

My father’s voice echoed in my head as I walked through the school gates: “You’re not going to be a failure under my roof. You go to school, no excuses.”

He didn’t exactly hide his disappointment in me. I could see it in the way his eyes hardened whenever he looked at me, how he sighed whenever I mentioned my grades or my lack of friends.

But as long as I went to school and kept my head down, he wouldn’t do more than glare. And so, here I was, walking the same halls, sitting in the same desks, going through the same routines, day in and day out.

By the time PE rolled around, I was already counting the minutes until I could leave. PE was the worst. It wasn’t just the physical part—though that definitely wasn’t my strong suit—it was the way the other guys looked at me.

They didn’t even need to say anything. The way their eyes flicked to my stomach, the way they smirked when I wheezed after a couple of laps, it was enough.

But I could handle that. I was used to it. The mocking laughter, the whispered jokes, the occasional shove—it didn’t sting the way it used to. What I couldn’t handle was messing up in front of the girls.

Even if none of them cared about me, even if none of them even knew me, the thought of them seeing me collapse after two minutes of running or fail to climb the rope during an exercise made my skin crawl.

So, I pushed myself. Not because I wanted to, but because I didn’t want to look any worse than I already did. Every step burned, every breath felt like fire in my lungs, but I kept going.

By the end of the session, I was drenched in sweat, my face flushed red, and my chest heaving. But at least I made it through without completely humiliating myself.

The other guys didn’t hold back with their usual jabs. “You good there, Tanaka?” one of them called, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he mimicked my heavy breathing. I ignored him. Words were just words, and I’d heard them all before.

The bell that signaled the end of the day felt like a mercy. I grabbed my bag and left without a second glance at anyone, walking through the school gates like it didn’t even exist.

The moment I stepped outside, school stopped mattering. The classes, the teachers, the people—it was all left behind the second I turned the corner.

I kept my head down, walking home at a steady pace. The streets buzzed with life as usual—kids laughing, bikes whizzing past, the faint hum of distant traffic—but it all blurred together. I didn’t look at anyone, and nobody looked at me.

When I finally reached home, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

When I walked through the door, the first thing I noticed was the quiet. Dad wasn’t home yet, and that was always a good thing.

No lectures about responsibility, no awkward silences over dinner, no passive-aggressive sighs when he looked at me. Just peace.

I kicked off my shoes and dropped my bag by the door. Before I could even call out, my mom appeared in the hallway, a warm smile on her face.

“Welcome home, Souta,” she said, her voice as gentle as always. “How was school?”

“Same as usual,” I muttered, not wanting to get into details. “Tiring.”

“Well,” she said, her smile widening, “maybe this will brighten your day. Your birthday present is upstairs. I put it in your room.”

My head shot up. “Really?”

She nodded, and I didn’t need any more encouragement. “Thanks, Mom!” I shouted, already halfway up the stairs. My chest felt lighter as I climbed, excitement buzzing in my veins. It was a Thursday, and I needed something exciting to break up the monotony.

I practically kicked open my bedroom door and froze. Sitting neatly on my desk was a small, wrapped box with a ribbon on top.

I didn’t waste any time ripping it open, my hands trembling slightly as I tore through the paper. Inside was a game case. The title gleamed in bold, golden letters: Heartpoint.

My jaw dropped as I stared at the cover art. A towering castle loomed in the distance, surrounded by lush forests and sprawling villages. In the foreground, a figure in gleaming armor stood with a glowing sword in hand, their cape billowing dramatically behind them.

It was classic RPG wish fulfillment—a fantasy world full of adventure, battles, and, if the tagline was to be believed, “unparalleled freedom of choice.”

“This… is awesome,” I whispered to myself, flipping the case over to read the description. The promise of a sprawling world to explore and save, epic battles, and companions to recruit sent a thrill down my spine.

I could already imagine it: me, as the overpowered hero, slicing through monsters, commanding armies, and—of course—wooing the in-game characters.

I snickered at the thought. My first in-game wife? Easy. She’d look just like Selena Sawyer. Maybe I’d even name her Selena. The game had no idea what it was in for.

Then my gaze shifted, and I noticed something I’d missed before. Sitting next to my console was a brand-new VR headset, sleek and shiny, with all the latest tech. My heart skipped a beat.

“No way,” I muttered, picking up the headset. I flipped it over in my hands, admiring the design. I didn’t even know my mom knew what VR was, let alone got me one. This was next-level.

“Mom, you’re the best!” I shouted down the stairs, my voice echoing through the house.

“Enjoy it, Souta!” she called back, her tone light and cheerful.

I didn’t need to be told twice. I set the headset down and started setting everything up. My fingers moved quickly as I connected the cables, adjusted the straps, and booted up the game.

The console hummed to life, the title screen of Heartpoint glowing on the screen as soft orchestral music played in the background.

I grabbed the VR headset and slid it on, adjusting it until the world around me went dark. My pulse quickened as the game’s logo appeared, followed by a blinding flash of light.

I was ready to escape into a fantasy. To become the hero I’d always dreamed of being. To live out my biggest, most ridiculous fantasies in a world where I could be anyone I wanted.

What I didn’t expect… was to awaken in another world.