My name is Kang Min-joon. Or rather, it was my name. If you’re reading this, things have taken a turn even my most twisted video game plotlines couldn’t have predicted. Just a few hours ago—or was it days? Time feels slippery when you’re floating in a cold, silent void—I was an ordinary student at Seoul University.

  Twenty-two years old, majoring in business administration (because I had to pick something, right?), and hopelessly obsessed with MMORPGs and webtoons. Especially the ones where the protagonist, some average guy like me, suddenly gains incredible powers and grinds levels in a world ruled by game-like mechanics. Ironic, huh?

  That night, like so many others, I was slumped in front of my PC, the screen’s glow bathing my cramped student dorm in blue light. A half-empty bowl of instant ramyeon sat on the desk next to a stack of textbooks I should’ve opened months ago.

  Midterms were looming, but the latest chapter of Ascension of the Shadow Hunter had just dropped, and let’s be honest—between cramming microeconomics and watching the hero unlock an overpowered new skill, the choice was obvious. It was my escape, my guilty pleasure. I’d often imagine myself as those protagonists, daydreaming about having a "System," "Stats," and "Skills." A life with clear objectives, tangible rewards, and the chance to become someone extraordinary. The grind of college, part-time jobs, societal pressure to land a "good" corporate gig… all of it felt so dull by comparison.

  I remember sighing, stretching my stiff limbs. It was late, probably 2 a.m. The silence of the dorm was broken only by my computer’s hum and the frantic clicks of my mouse as I farmed low-level mobs in Aethelgard Online, my current MMO obsession. One more dungeon, I told myself. One more quest. Exhaustion weighed heavy on my eyelids, but the lure of loot was stronger.

  In the end, reason—or rather, a stomach cramp reminding me that ramyeon isn’t a balanced meal—won out. I saved my game, shut off the screen, and the room plunged into semi-darkness. Hunger still gnawed at me. A quick trip to the convenience store for a kimbap triangle and an energy drink seemed like the perfect way to cap off a night of procrastination.

  I threw on a faded hoodie over my T-shirt, stuffed my phone and wallet into my pockets, and headed out.

  The night air was crisp, almost biting for early fall. Seoul’s streets, usually so lively, were quiet at this hour, dotted only by the occasional taxi and garbage trucks starting their rounds. I liked this nocturnal vibe, the sense that the city belonged to me, just a little.

  The store was only a few blocks away. I grabbed my snacks, exchanged tired pleasantries with the drowsy cashier, and started back, already sipping my sugary drink. Lost in thought, I rehashed strategies for Aethelgard’s next boss, imagining what skills I’d choose if I were suddenly isekai’d. The classics, of course: some dark magic, a sleek dagger, maybe spectral summons. Cool stuff, you know?

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  I reached the crosswalk. The light was red for cars, green for me. Automatically, I glanced left, then right. Nothing to the left. To the right, far, far away, headlights. Plenty of time to cross. I stepped onto the road, my footsteps echoing faintly in the empty street.

  That’s when everything changed.

  All I heard was a sudden roar, an engine pushed to its limit. I turned my head reflexively. The headlights I’d seen in the distance weren’t distant anymore. They were hurtling straight toward me, massive and blinding. A truck. How? How had it gotten here so fast? Did it run the light? Was I that distracted?

  There was no time for fear, not really. Just a split second of pure disbelief, a cold realization that my life—so mundane, so routine—would end here, on this anonymous crosswalk, under the wheels of a metal behemoth. My legs refused to move, fused to the asphalt. My kimbap fell from my hand, splattering on the ground. The energy drink followed, its contents splashing my shoes.

  Then, impact.

  A searing, unimaginable pain exploded through my body before vanishing as quickly as it came. A sickening *crunch*. I felt like a disjointed puppet, flung into the air like a ragdoll. The world spun—a kaleidoscope of city lights and darkness. I think I saw the driver’s horrified face, a pale silhouette behind the windshield, frozen in a suspended moment.

  The landing was brutal. My skull hit the curb with terrifying force. A blood-red star burst behind my eyes. Then… nothing. Or almost nothing.

  Cold seeped into me, starting at my limbs and crawling toward my core. My lungs burned, desperate for air that wouldn’t come. I tried to speak, to scream, but no sound escaped. Only a wet gurgle rose from my throat. Something warm and sticky pooled beneath me. My blood, no doubt. The metallic scent filled my nostrils.

  The city lights began to blur, their brightness dimming. Sounds faded, replaced by a dull ringing in my ears. Strangely, the panic had vanished, leaving numb resignation. So this was death. No light tunnel, no singing angels, no epic life review. Just cold, encroaching darkness and a nagging regret.

  I hadn’t saved my progress in life. No "New Game+."

  My mother… what would happen to her? My father, always so stoic… I should’ve told them I loved them more. I should’ve studied harder. I should’ve asked that girl from the literature club out. So many "should’ves."

  One final, absurdly fitting thought flickered through my mind as consciousness slipped away: *At least I hope I reincarnate with decent starter stats…*

  Then, silence. Absolute nothingness. Cold, empty, infinite. I was Kang Min-joon. And I was dead.