One Hour Ago.

I have a question for you: Have you ever wanted someone to kill you?

And I don’t mean that in a die-from-embarrassment kinda way. I mean kill you. Someone you’ve never met is holding a loaded gun to your head and they tell you that they’re going to shoot. If you found yourself in that scenario, would you stop them?

How about this: Would you let someone take you away to a world you’ve never been to before?

Same deal. I don’t mean it like a bad drug trip, I mean whisked away. Someone you’ve never met before tells you that you’re some important person in a fantasy land you’ve never heard of and that you need to go with them right away. If you found yourself in that scenario, would you follow them?

Actually, let’s try this. Let me put you in my shoes. That way we’re on the same page.

Suppose you’re me. You’re Grim Hearts. You’re an eighteen-year-old dropout whose parents shipped him off to some McMansion in the middle of an active adult community in the armpit of the country – New Jersey. You have no friends, no family other than the aforementioned parents, and the only person that gives an ounce of a shit about you is the old lady that lives down the street from you. Nothing ever goes your way, everything you try fails, and you’re finding it harder and harder to get out of bed every morning.

Now that we’re all on the same page, I want you to think about it. If you were in my shoes, what would your answers be to those hypotheticals from earlier? I want you to seriously think about them.

Are you done thinking? Good. Because I have your answers.

“Hell no” and “Fuck no”! Are you insane?!

If some guy in a mask walked up to you and threatened to kill you, I don’t care how emo you think you are. You’re gonna piss your pants and beg for your fucking life. If some stranger told you that your great-grandfather’s least favorite boyfriend was the jester for some king in a fantasy world and you’re royalty now, you’d just say “Sorry, I don’t have any money” and go on about your day. There is no way, no circumstance in which you’d just let those things happen to you!

And yet, they still happen. They happen all the time. Why?

Because they want to be Isekai’d, that’s why.

I’m sure you’ve heard of it before – some fat loser gets run over by a truck and wakes up in a fantasy land with a toned body they realistically can’t maintain and a harem of men and/or women who realistically wouldn’t touch them with a ten-foot pole. It’s the dream of every depressed teen and disillusioned adult around the globe.

Isekai-ing, in practice, is actually a massive gamble. You have no idea where you’ll end up, what kind of body you’ll have, or whether you’ll even make it back home. What if you were an old, PTSD-riddled man who got Isekai’d and woke up in some wartorn wasteland? Or you really are a fat loser and you end up in a world just like our own? And you’re still fat? Those thoughts aren’t unpopular or uncommon, but nobody cares about them. You know why?

People don’t give a shit. People are stupid. People love to fantasize about any life unlike their own… and I was no different.

It was easy to imagine what I’d like my life to be like. As silly as it was, one of my biggest dreams as a child was to go bowling with a group of friends. It started years ago after I watched some anti-drug commercial with a group of teenagers smoking weed in a bowling alley. I’d always assumed that when I got older, that’d be me. Not smoking weed, but going out with friends; doing stupid shit, teasing each other, and staying up-to-date on some useless drama. In reality, my high school years were boring. My peers either avoided me like the plague because of my parents or tried to force their way into my life for the same reason. Nobody ever saw me, and as I got older I realized my bowling trip dream would never come to be.

But what if I lived in another world? Would they be more obtainable there instead of here? I wouldn’t be Grim Hearts, son of two billionaires. I’d just be Grim Hearts. Would it be easier to make friends? Would it be easier to form connections? Could I have my first kiss? Could I have a harem?

So many questions, so few answers. They all existed exclusively in my head because the cold hard truth was that I’d need to be Isekai’d to actually see them answered. As appealing as it would be to get run over by a truck or call one of those Isekai Cultists to mutilate me to some 80s pop music or whatever the fuck they do, I really didn’t want to die. It was much easier to just sit here and be. For better or for–

Brrring!

“What the fuck?”

I was half awake, so I looked around my room like an idiot for the obvious source of the noise. My bed was still black. My floors were still gray. My weird little accent wall behind me was still black. My desk to the far right side of the room was still white. My PC was still way too colorful. And my house phone was… shit!

Remember that old lady I mentioned? Her name is Mrs. Gertrude. We met the day I was shoved into this community because she thought I was her dead son. We spoke for a bit and I learned that he actually died years ago, and I wanted to be nice so I treated her to dinner. From then on, we’d meet just about every week to sit down, watch TV, talk about whatever, and eat together. She was your stereotypical old lady, and just about the only person present in my life. It was embarrassing, but most of my life was embarrassing, so it didn’t mean much to me.

I tore my black comforter off and ran for the phone.

“Hello?” I panted. I really needed to do more cardio. My stamina was lacking.

“Hey, Grim! I need a beer out the fridge and I’m too tired to get up. C’mere and get it for me!”

“You can walk to the phone but you can’t walk to the fridge?”

“I’m old, boy! Respect yer damn elders and fetch me a damn beer!”

I shook my head. Mrs. Gertrude had a unique way of asking me to come over.

“I’ll be there in a–,” I began, but she hung up before I could finish.

Old people, man…

I took a quick shower, threw on some back sweats with a white tee and some white sneakers then headed over.

***

“Took you long enough!” Mrs. Gertrude shouted the moment I entered. “You know the kind I like. Bring a couple. You can have one of the white cans.”

Mrs. Gertrude was fairly tall, easily the tallest elderly woman I’d ever seen. We were both 5’8, though, so I’m not sure my opinion on that subject meant much. What I did know was that she hardly looked as old as she claimed to be. She said she was ninety-seven, yet she hardly had any wrinkles and her hair still looked more blonde than white – though it could go either way with enough sunlight. When I’d asked her about it, she credited ‘daily sunscreen and hair protein treatments’ as the trick to her youthful appearance. Her house was what gave her age away, though. Mrs. Gertrude’s couch had this… unique floral pattern and it sat atop a really large, really garish rug. The walls were adorned with various paintings, pictures, and religious paraphernalia that she'd collected over the years. She still had one of those humongous rectangular TVs from the early 2000s that sat inside an entertainment unit I swore would break if I so much as looked at it wrong.

“I’m only eighteen, you know. I shouldn’t be handling alcohol.”

“Don’t be a pussy!”

I rolled my eyes and made my way to her kitchen. Her house, like mine and every other in this community, was all one story. The living areas were carpeted while the kitchens were glossy white tile with white appliances and light brown cabinetry. Thankfully, I’d managed to convince my parents to modernize mine, even if the cost came out of my monthly allowance.

I opened the fridge and took out two cans of the beer she loves so much and a white can of beer for myself. I tried to look for a bottle of water or juice or something, but she didn’t have one. We’d spoken about her poor diet plenty of times, but at the end of the day she was in her nineties and I wasn’t. If there was a secret to longevity, she had it. Somehow.

“Grim, the show’s almost back on!” Mrs. Gertrude shouted from the living room. “What are you waiting for?”

“On my way!”

***

[The Isekai Phenomenon is a fairly recent discovery. The story of Chikubi Haisui is common knowledge – a Japanese fisherman is killed in a freak boating accident, only to turn up alive in the very sea he died in. A man, who was once an average fisherman was now a man of myth. Flight, superhuman strength, and inhuman speed were once things reserved for comics and novels. Now, they are obtainable, even plentiful, but for whom?]

“Gah, it’s one a’ those conspiracy ones.” Mrs. Gertrude groaned. She took a sip of her second can of beer and absently knocked on my chest with her free hand. “I haven’t seen you outside in a while. I thought I got you a job at the library? What happened?”

“I got laid off.”

“Ah, shit. Sorry, kid. How come?”

“Budget cuts.”

[According to declassified records from the US Government, there are a countless number of Isekai worlds. One man may end up in a middle-aged Europe while another may end up in a space-age Jupiter. There is no rhyme or reason to these ‘Spawn Points’, and some believe that mystery is what attracts more and more people to do it. Some people have begun to wonder, though. Are those documents accurate? Is the government glorifying the act of Isekai-ing as a means of population control?]

“Ya lookin’ for a new job?” Mrs. Gertrude asked.

I didn’t have to look at her. I could feel her staring a hole into my head. As much as I appreciated spending time with her, conversations about my life were always the most uncomfortable.

“I don’t need to.”

“Why not?”

[There are plenty of convenient ways for one to Isekai. The free methods are all the cheapest and most accessible. You all know of the ‘Truck Method’, wherein one is run over by a speeding truck and killed on impact. You also know about the Outlet Method, in which an electrical outlet is rigged by an outside party to electrocute whoever is unfortunate enough to use the rigged outlet. How come those methods, the affordable ones, the ones most attractive to the poorest and down-on-their-luck citizens, are the most commonly attempted? Do all of these poor victims have friends willing to send them to these new worlds? Or are they perhaps targeted? We believe both of these things are true, and they are both perpetuated by a single, increasingly popular collective: Isekai Cultists.]

“...My parents pay me ten thousand dollars a month. I wouldn’t be surprised if they learned that I was working at the library and got me fired. It’d look bad if Grim Hearts was seen working a minimum wage job at a public library.”

“Is that right?”

[...Most interestingly, we’ve found in our investigations that 86% of all victims of the Isekai Cults are connected in some way to the richest and most powerful members of society! When we reached out to one of the Isekai Cults in our own New Jersey, they said that this connection is because those born into wealth “Do not get to live real lives”. Our investigative team, however, believes that the US Government–]

Mrs. Gertrude cut the TV off. She stared directly at me as she downed the contents of her last can. I did my best to play it cool, so I decided to down the contents of my own beer can. I only made it a few sips before I hacked it up. It tasted like a grass-flavored headache.

“Grim, I got a question for ya,” she said, placing her empty can on the glass table. She leaned back into the couch and stared up at the popcorn ceiling. “What do you think about Isekai-ing?”

I knew exactly where she was going. I knew what she was trying to get out of this conversation, and I really didn’t feel like going there. So, I decided to play dumb.

“That’s a broad question,” I tried.

She sucked her teeth. “Don’t fuck around with me, Grim. What do you think about people who Isekai?”

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

That, admittedly, was not where I thought she was going with this. I decided to answer honestly.

“Well, I think people who are living good lives already don’t need to do it.” I placed my disgusting beer on the table and leaned back, mirroring Mrs. Gertrude. “If you’re loaded, or you have a good life, then what do you have to gain? If all of your wants and needs are met, there’s no reason to Isekai beyond greed.”

“Alright,” Mrs. Gertrude responded, still staring up at the ceiling. “What about people who don’t have their wants and needs met? You’re saying they should all get run over by trucks and trains n’ shit?”

“I wouldn’t put it like that, but I mean… I wouldn’t look down on them for doing that, either. If you have nothing going for you on earth, who’s to say things might look up somewhere else? It’s like transferring schools after getting bullied. Nobody knows you in the new school, so you can start over.”

“Ya know what I think? I think that’s bullshit.”

She turned to me and fixed me with a serious look. I’d known her for almost a year now, and we’d gotten into ‘arguments’ plenty of times, but this was the first time I’d ever seen her look genuinely upset. I couldn’t help but swallow. It was like she was looking through me.

“Isekai-ing is a fancy word for giving up, and that shit’s for the weak. Live a bitch, die a bitch, wake up a bitch. Nothing changes when you Isekai yourself! People say that same ‘start over’ shit all the time like they’re gonna get run over and suddenly wake up a new person. Yer mind is the exact same! You don’t need to die to change it!”

Well that’s reductive. That’s like telling a homeless person to just ‘stop being poor’ or a sad person to ‘just be happy’. If it were that simple, Isekai-ing wouldn’t be nearly as popular as it was.

“Don’t you think that’s a bit unfair?”

“No, I don’t! I think it’s pussy, and I think people who Isekai on purpose are pussies! Ya know what? I’ll prove it to you!” She swatted my chest. “Try me. Give me a reason someone should Isekai themselves and I’ll tell ya why it’s full a’ shit!”

“Well,” I began, thinking for reasons I couldn’t relate to. When that failed, I decided to just give my own.”What if they don’t have any friends?”

Mrs. Gertrude scrunched her face. “Are you kidding me? Go to a bar in a college town at the end of exam week. You’ll have ten new friends, four lifelong enemies, and a new girlfriend.”

“What if they’re still just teenagers? Everyone can’t solve their problems in a bar.”

“Then get a fake ID! I knew a guy in college named Sam that used to make them for a hundred dollars. He’d do it for free if you blew him.”

Mrs. Gertrude thumbed at a framed ID behind me. She looked about a year older than me with a short blonde bob, piercing blue eyes, and a sly smile on her face. I cringed.

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Gertrude didn’t do any favors for that piece a’ shit. Back then, we had a friend we’d call “Maggie Magnum”. We called her that because we’d point her at any dude and she’d have him giving free shit out like it was Christmas. Needed tickets to a concert? Send Maggie and we’ll get em free. Need fake IDs? Send Maggie and we’ll get em free. She’s a nun now, I think.”

“...Well,” I said, trying to bring the topic back around. “Everyone doesn’t want to be a partier. Some people aren’t into that scene.”

“So go to a gym! The people are hotter, anyway. And before you tell me people don’t wanna work out, they can go to a community college and join some clubs! Sure, those guys are boring but they’re normal.”

“Clubs all have established friend groups. It isn't as easy as you're—”

“Holy shit, Grim. Go online, then. There’s no way I’m almost a hundred and I can think this shit up faster than you.”

If I was being honest with myself, I’d entertained this conversation mainly because I wanted to prove her wrong. Now, though, I just wanted to hear what she’d say.

“You’re a lot like my son Chance,” Mrs. Gertrude said. She was standing now, pacing about the room with the remote in her hand. “Same black hair. Same blue eyes. Same girly face. Same bad outfits.”

Thanks?

“Same fears. Same desires. Same sadness.” Mrs. Gertrude stood still, staring straight into my eyes. “It hurt watching my boy suffer and not knowing what to do about it." She gripped the remote tighter. “Chance isn’t here anymore, and I’m not going to make the same mistake twice.” Mrs. Gertrude walked towards me, though her steps were a bit wobbly.

“You aren’t gonna fool me into thinking you weren’t speaking for yourself. I know I joke a lot, but what you’re thinking about is serious. Very serious.”

“I’m not gonna Isekai!” I blurted. I didn’t mean to shout, but I really didn’t want her to have the wrong idea about me. “I just sympathize with people who do. I personally do think my life would be better if I were somewhere else, but you did make good–”

“This world is rough, Grim.” She said, ignoring my statement. “It takes balls of steel to live in it despite that. And look at you. You spent eighteen years in this shit pile. I’m proud of you, kid. I mean it.”

That… huh. I… I couldn’t think of the last time someone said they were proud of me. Had someone ever said that to me? I had no idea how to react, so I just said what I was thinking.

“I don’t know what to do.” It came out softer than I would’ve liked. I readjusted. “I’m just kinda… existing. I’m glad you feel that way about me, but I don’t feel like I did anything special to make it to this point. Sometimes it feels like I keep going just to spite my parents, other times I waste the days away imagining life somewhere else. I don’t know what to do, what to think, or where to go. I just… am.”

Mrs. Gertrude smiled as she began to wobble. “It’s your mind, Grim. You don’t need to be anywhere else to change it. You’re a blank slate and your mind is begging you to fill it up. Think about the kind of man you want to become and work towards being that. You don’t need to go somewhere fancy to do that. You have the freedom to fight for yourself. Don’t waste that.”

What kind of man I wanted to be? I’d never given that any kind of thought. I knew who my parents wanted me to be, and what society dictated I should be, but who I wanted to be? I… had no idea.

“Where do I even start?”

“I already… told you, jackass. Just… think about who you wanna be and… think about how to get there. Make a roadmap or… just… oh, right!” She sat back down on the couch and gave me an earnest, youthful look.

“Fake it till you make it!” She shouted triumphantly. “Once you have your dream man in your mind… all you gotta do is… act like him. The more you do it, the more it… isn’t an act! That’s just you. You get me?”

“I do, I think,” I answered. Mrs. Gertrude let out a heavy sigh.

“Good, because I don’t want to lose another son.”

I knew it was the alcohol talking, but those words touched me. I got up from the couch, doing my best to keep it together by focusing on my breathing. Mrs. Gertrude was like family to me, and some part of me hoped she felt the same way. Knowing she potentially saw me as a son, though? If only she were my mother. Life would’ve been so much better.

“It’s getting pretty late, Mrs. Gertrude. I should probably head home.”

“Yeah, my head is swimming.”

“I wonder why,” I chuckled, staring at the empty beer cans on the table.

“Shut the fuck up kid,” She said, throwing one at me. She smiled as I caught it.

“Take care of yourself, you hear? I’m proud of you, kid.”

“I will. I promise. Thank you.”

***

Man I wanna be, hm? Let’s see…

One of the few perks of living in an active adult community was the fact that hardly any of the adults were actually active. The sidewalks were empty, the sunset looked beautiful, and the well-maintained lawns made the trip downright scenic. For all the flaws of my parents, they at least knew how to pick communities. And speaking of parents…

Dad’s an asshole, and he wanted me to be just like him, so that’s a no.

I recalled a memory where he thought about ways to profit off of the Isekai ‘craze’. He suggested a ‘Sudden Isekai’ business where people would pay what were essentially hitmen to carry hits out on you at random dates at random times. The thought process was that people who wanted to Isekai but were afraid of actually getting killed would have an easy and convenient way to do it without the risk of refunds or cancellations. I did not want to become the type of person who’d come up with ideas like that.

There are those alpha male types online? Maybe I can be one of those?

Yeah, no. The goal is to make friends, not scare them off.

What if I join a gang? Aren’t gangsters supposed to be cool?

I knew that idea only existed in media, but it felt necessary to throw as many things at the wall as possible. So, I imagined myself as a gangster… and immediately burst into laughter, which would’ve been awkward if there was anybody else outside. If I pointed a gun at somebody they’d probably kick the shit out of me.

The more I thought about who I wanted to be, the easier it became to see the truth. I truly wanted to be like that guy in the anti-drug commercial, or at least how he appeared to younger me.

Confident, social, charming, and charismatic.

I wanted to have a lot of friends, a girlfriend, and an active social life. I also wanted to be like Mrs. Gertrude, able to lend a hand to people who needed it, just… not as crude or drunk.

And there it was. My ideal. That was who Grim Hearts was going to be.

So… now what?

Now, I take control of my mind. I decided that when I got home, I’d start looking online for forums and chatrooms regarding my… interests…

Just like that, we approach the first hurdle. I guess she didn’t say this would be easy.

I know they say beggars can’t be choosers, but I really wanted my friends to be my age and be at least a little bit normal. I tried to think about chatrooms filled with people who play the same video games that I did and audibly cringed.

That’s a no. What else is there?

I was quite fond of Jamaican food, but I imagine if I joined a Jamaican forum or chatroom or something I wouldn’t exactly fit in as an Italian teenager from New Jersey. Rather than get down in the dumps, I decided that I’d think about everything I’d ever had even a passing interest in.

I’ve got my work cut out for–

I stopped dead as I approached my block. Six figures dressed in red cloaks stood outside my door, knocking on it as they chanted my name in a singsong lilt. My heart sank as I recognized who… what they were. I’d loosely been paying attention to the documentary from earlier, but even if I hadn’t I’d recognize these people from anywhere.

Why the fuck are these Isekai Cultists outside of my door?!

I frantically looked around in every direction as I slowly backed away. I had no idea where the hell I could go, and I sure as hell wasn’t gonna lead them to Mrs. Gertrude’s house. If only I could–

“Grim Hearts!”

“Ah, fuck!” I shouted, stumbling back on my ass.

A woman who looked like she was in her mid-twenties stood right in front of me. I hadn’t seen or heard her approach. She had brown eyes, freckles, and large circular glasses. Under any other circumstance, I’d say she was cute. Now, though? As my life was effectively in her hands?

…She was pretty cute. But now wasn’t the time to get distracted.

“I’m sorry, I don’t have any money. I can call my parents?” I tried.

The woman reached for my hand and helped me to my feet. I looked over her head to find the other Cultists, three men and two women, fixing me with eerie smiles as they continued to chant nonsense about ‘the old urge’.

“Grim Hearts, you are the forgotten son of Andrei and Alina Hearts. They have cast you out and left you to rot!”

To my utter shock, she wrapped me in a tight hug and began to sob into my chest. “It must have been torturous! My heart aches for you! I am so sorry!”

I had no idea what to feel. The five other Cultists at my door swayed like hula dancers and raised their hands to the sky as they continued to intone incoherent nonsense, this girl I’d never met was crying on my chest, and I wasn’t sure if calling for help would get me killed or not. I had to play this very cautiously. One bad decision could be my end.

“Listen, um…What’s your name?”

“Claire.”

“Listen, Claire. I enjoy this life I live that I live. I really do. It’s quiet. Peaceful. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

“We’ve been watching you, Grim Hearts.”

“You have?” I gulped, trying in vain to hide my nerves. She rested her arms on my shoulders.

“Yes, we have. For years. You’ve always had a broken look about you. Yes. You have the eye of the scorned, Grim Hearts.” She massaged my cheek. “You wear them even now. At this very moment.”

“I have a resting bitch face. I can’t help it.”

“No, you can’t.” The woman sighed, a mournful expression falling on her face.

Shit, shit, shit!

“Yes, I can!” I yelped. “I promise, I can! I was actually on my way to start–”

I was cut off when the cultist squeezed my cheeks and pulled me into a long, wet kiss.

Earlier, I told Mrs. Gertrude that I hadn’t done anything special to make it this far. That was a bit of a lie. If I had to point to something special about myself, it’d be my uncanny ability to view the positives in the negatives. For example, I was sent to an active adult community, but I also met Mrs. Gertrude because of it. I did live a quiet, unfulfilling life, but I had plenty of time to play games and watch anime because of that.

So when a knife pierced my back and severed my spine, I did my best not to focus on that. I just had my first kiss! Not the ideal scenario – it was hard to focus on the sensation as the blade was dragged up and through my torso – but at least I wouldn’t die a complete virgin. That positive didn’t outweigh this negative for long, though.

This was it. The end. My end. I supposed there were worse ways to go out. Even still, I didn’t want to go. It was funny, I’d dreamt of this day for years and here I was praying to the heavens that it didn’t happen. That I’d survive this, somehow.

“Come, share his essence with me Sister Claire! Please!” One of the cultists shouted, but I didn’t have the energy – or ability – to look up.

They’d begun making out with each other, and I only knew that because I heard the sounds of their mouths and the groaning that came from them.

No fucking way. You’ve got to be kidding. I didn’t just get killed by these fucking lunatics!

“Look, he is transcending! Gather his energy, quickly!”

I heard the sound of rustling cloth followed by clattering glass. They’d begun collecting my blood as it seeped out of the impact point on my back.

“Get… off!” I croaked.

“Don’t fight it, Grim Hearts!” Claire shouted. “We will gather your energy and bask in it within your house. We will reside in it as you have and share our energy as we attempt to conceive a child with your newfound power to travel through space!”

“Fuck…” is all I could manage to say with my depleting energy.

“Yeah,” One of the older men groaned in a sleazy tone. “That’s the plan.”

A different man dug into my pockets, revealing the key to my house. He pulled my hair and leaned into my ear.

“Listen, bro. I’m just here because these bitches are freaky as hell! I got Claire to come because she’s the cutest. Everyone else is old and ugly. I knew you were a virgin so I got her to be the one to bait you. Normally it’s one of the older ones. They would’ve gone all the way with you, but I didn’t think you’d wanna go out like that.” He chuckled. “Tried to look out for you before you Isekai’d. Oh yeah, we bugged your computer and I saw all the sites you were on. Jesus Christ, you might be a virgin but you have taste! Anyway, I’ll clear your internet history, dude. Don’t even worry about it. Have fun on the other side!”

As my vision faded, I had just one thought on my mind. One person.

I’m sorry, Mrs. Gertrude. I didn’t mean to die tod–...

No. No. I changed my thoughts to something more fitting. Mrs. Gertrude didn’t want to lose a son, and she wouldn’t. I found myself smiling, the last thing I’d ever do in this body.

“Aw, you don’t have to thank me, bro. I know I’d be super embarrassed if I died and my family saw all the fetish stuff in my history.”

I’ll be back, Mrs. Gertrude. I promise.