What if you were suddenly transported to another world? As a creative, I love isekai stories, along with mystery films, documentaries, and comedy-dramas. Watching and reading these stories is my escape from work stress—it reminds me that no matter how grown-up life gets, keeping a bit of childlike joy alive is key to true happiness.

Lately, I’ve been obsessed with isekai. I’ve binge-watched and read every title I can find in the genre. Usually, in these tales, people wake up as someone new—like a princess, a villainess, a baby, or a maid from a powerful family. So why...why am I here as myself, with no money, no family, and worse, as a captive who could die at any second? Whoever created this world should switch places with me and see how they like it!

“What an impressive achievement, General Helion. Once again, you’ve proven yourself worthy of your new title.”

“You praise me too highly, Your Majesty. I’m certain that if His Highness, the Prince, joined us, our forces would reach our goals even faster.”

The urge to look up is almost unbearable, but fear keeps my gaze glued to the ground. We’ve been ordered to kneel, hands tied behind our backs, and my legs are growing numb from the prolonged position while the nobles shower themselves with praise. Despite the discomfort, a thrill stirs within me at the thought of seeing the king and prince for the first time. Almost everything I read these days is about the northern duke, making the royal family an enemy in my eyes—a stark contrast to the cherished characters in my thousand list.

“That can’t be helped. Well, I look forward to seeing what kind of slave you’ve brought this time.”

“Of course, Your Majesty. Let me present to you a strong, fortunate warrior to serve you.”

One by one, the warriors display us like trophies, barely glancing at our faces. A quick sweep of the area reveals the hopelessness of our situation: encircled by fully equipped soldiers, each one radiating an intimidating strength. Even the thought of a single flick from one of them makes me shudder.

“Like hell, we’ll serve you! Pwe! We are proud warriors of the Aldo Kingdom! We’ll serve no king other than our own!” shouts one of the captives beside me, thrashing against his captor’s hold.

Woah! This guy has guts. It feels like watching a movie, seeing defiance in the face of power. But… kneeling here with them, it’s less inspiring and more terrifying.

“We refuse to bow to an arrogant man like you! We’d rather die than serve you!”

The captives surge in a brief, futile revolt, only to be subdued and forced back down, some bleeding as their heads are wrenched forward. Admiration for their bravery mixes with my instinct for self-preservation, keeping me silent. If a chance to escape arises, I’ll need my strength. Yet my silence doesn’t go unnoticed; it draws the king’s attention.

“I admire their resilience. It’ll be a pleasure to train them. But that one? He looks weak.”

The words jolt through me, and I don’t have to look up to know he’s talking about me. My body reacts, trembling uncontrollably as dread seizes me.

“Show me its face,” the king commands.

A warrior behind me forced my head up, revealing my face. I saw two thrones on different levels of a stage. An old man, presumably the king, sat at the top with a long sword standing beside him, probably symbolizing the power he holds, while a younger man sat below with a simple throne, looking bored by the proceedings.

The younger man's long black hair complemented his warm-toned skin. His golden eyes, paired with thick brows which the other had a scar, glistened ominously, like a predator eyeing its prey, sending a shiver down my spine. Oh God! He looked like a prince from the underworld.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

As I tried to avoid their gaze, my eyes caught an even more disturbing scene. Two women, adorned in beautiful clothes, stood beside them, golden chains trailing from their necks to their feet, while half of their faces were covered with thin clothes. My stomach twisted at the sight—these weren’t just pretty decorations. Their eyes were hollow, dead. What kind of place was this? It sent a cold chill through me. Was that going to be my fate, too? If I couldn’t talk my way out of this, I might not just die—I might be forced to live like that here.

“Hmm… He doesn’t look great either.”

‘What did that old man say?!’ my frantic thought stopped due to the sudden insult

“I don’t need that one. You may kill him,” the king commanded, waving his hand dismissively as if ordering my execution.

‘Ha! This triple M. I might look disheveled now, but I’m confident in my looks. I’m pretty enough to be courted by multiple men!’

(AN: Triple M means Matandang, Mayaman madaling, Mamatay. In English: Stinky rich old man who are bound to die due to their age. )

“Wa…wait, wait!”

I had a lot to say to that old man, but more urgently—if they dragged me out, I was sure I’d be dead. Through the open golden doors, I could practically see a dark aura emanating, like a shadow of my impending fate.

“I’m not one of them! I’m not a soldier—or a warrior or anything.” My words tumbled out as I struggled against the hands dragging me forward, breath hitching as I continued to ramble. “I was just a normal citizen—no, I was a hostage!” I gasped, nearly out of breath, when the prince raised a hand, and the guard halted.

“Is it true?” His gaze wasn’t even on me but on one of the captive warriors. But before anyone could answer, I blurted out, desperate to stay their hand.

“T-They wouldn’t know! I was held captive in secret. I escaped, but I stumbled into the wrong cart—a war cart, full of weapons!” What the hell am I saying? But I’ve got their attention, so what can I do to survive? Should I dance? Sing?’

“I...I got caught up in your war by accident.”

“Hmm…” The prince looked at me, considering the plausibility of my words.

“That’s a lie! Our kingdom would never hold a citizen captive!” one of the warriors hissed.

Sorry, but I’m not dying for your kingdom.

“Do you know who took you?” the prince asked, his voice testing me like the edge of a blade.

I took a big gulp, preparing to lie through my teeth. “I was held captive by what they called a general."

Oh god! I hope their general's not here, and let him be dead too, please.

"And managed to escape, but I had no idea the cart I climbed onto was headed to war. I mean, think about it, what could a small person like me even do there?” I finished with a pleading look, hoping it was enough to keep my head on my shoulders.

The prince’s eyes narrowed. “You survived among soldiers and warriors. That’s remarkable, considering the nature of our men.”

My heart dropped. This was a test. One wrong answer and I was finished.

“That…that’s because I hid among the bodies until I passed out.” Technically true. No one stays sane after seeing a head fall right at their feet.

“Then why would a general imprison a mere citizen?”

“Well,”

I don't know either... My mind raced, each thought flashing by like a desperate spark in the dark. I was cornered, no choice but to think fast and force another lie through.

Come on, think, think, think, I urged myself. What would make a good answer? There was no way those bored faces would care about modern dance or songs. I scanned the room, eyes darting to the stone-carved pillars etched with cryptic symbols, trying to grasp anything that could save me. Symbols, numbers, letters…

“I…I can read and write different languages.” I blurted out, eyes closed, praying this lie would save me. If nothing worked, I was certain I’d die.

I felt the air thicken as gasps echoed around me, following what I had impulsively blurted out, and when I dared to open my eyes, I saw that my words had captured everyone’s attention. I clung to the memory of an ancient stone I’d seen earlier, its surface carved with intricate symbols that looked like a hybrid of Egyptian hieroglyphs and some unknown language. They looked like warnings or stories, but they were woven with numbers, letters, and symbols that I’d only seen in documentaries. Did they have meaning to this kingdom? Was it something to fear? The prince’s eyes lingered on me, as if wondering if he’d just stumbled onto something far more valuable than a mere captive.

“Prove it.” The prince rose from his seat, his dark, flowing hair framing a face that now glistened with interest. Under any other circumstance, his striking appearance might have caught my attention, but right now, he was the greatest danger in the room.

Damn it! How am I supposed to prove something I don’t even know myself? My pulse thundered in my ears. Think, or your neck meets the blade.

As I glanced down, the guard’s firm grip forced me to bow before the prince, my head throbbing from a rough smack. The metallic scent of blood filled my nostrils, and the stinging pain from my head was far from welcome, yet it sparked a desperate idea. Dipping my finger into a puddle of blood on the ground, I hesitated only for a heartbeat before starting to trace a word onto the floor.

Scribble: +AnHG!nHanNg# buUh#@yY TtO mMam4+AayY nNa B@ Kk()?

Translate: Fuck this life, am I going to die?

I exhaled deeply, my heart racing. A desperate, absurd idea took root in my mind, and I couldn’t shake it. I was insane. The last time I’d used Jejemon was back in high school, scribbling notes in what could only be called the world’s ugliest code. But there was no time to second-guess myself. My mind clung to one thought: Jejemon or death. I dipped my fingers into the blood on the ground, the cool slickness grounding me in the chaos. Silently, I prayed that my long-forgotten Jeje days would serve me now.

”Your Majesty, I will make use of this man.”

‘‘What? Did it actually work?!’ My breath caught in my throat as I stared up at the prince, whose lips curved into a menacing smile.

Confusion twisted in my gut as I was ordered to be escorted away, but I couldn’t tear my eyes from the prince. His golden gaze pierced through me, like he saw every lie and weakness hidden beneath my shaky façade. I wanted to feel relief—but all I felt was the deepening realization that I fell into a more dangerous situation.

Relief surged through me a moment later. Somehow, my desperate scribbling had succeeded. Gratitude filled my heart for those bygone Jejemon days, and for the first time in a long while, I felt something close to hope.