They say that everybody deserves a second chance. Some are struck by divine lightning, some are blessed by gods, and then there's the age-old technique: Truck-kun—the grim reaper of reincarnation tales.
I didn't, however, receive my second chance through all this drama.
No, I laughed myself to death. Literally.
Let me roll back a little.
I was your typical university dropout—a qualified disappointment to every Asian parent breathing. I did not even fail out spectacularly. I merely quit halfway, packed my bags, and moved far enough away that my family could pretend that I did not exist without excessive guilt.
My daily life? Wake up at noon, browse through memes, microwave something vaguely palatable, and binge-watch TV until my brain cells filed for early retirement. My greatest achievement in that life was being able to recite all the opening lines of every reality show from memory.
And then, one night, while I was sitting at home watching some late-night comedy rerun, I died. Just like that. I laughed so hard I couldn't breathe, choked on my own spit, and BAM—game over.
My last thought?I'm the punchline.
Seriously, I couldn't even make this up. My death wasn't even tragic or mysterious. It was pathetic, just like the rest of my life.
So you can guess how surprised I was when I opened my eyes again. Light ceiling. Enormous faces. Creepy baby talk. That unmistakable smell of "newborn baby who doesn't know how to control their own bowel movements."
Yep. Reincarnated.
I'd love to tell you that I was reborn into a powerful sorcerer's form or a legendary hero of ancient prophecy, but no. I was just. a baby. A burping, gurgling, drooling potato with arms and legs.
No idea what year it was. No idea who these folks were. But they were friendly, fed me when I was supposed to be fed, and I hadn't been left in a forest or auctioned off yet, so I wasn't grumbling.
For a while, I hoped perhaps I'd been reincarnated into a book world. I'd read enough of them to at least make it through on bluff, right?
But the more I saw, the more it felt so painfully familiar. The ridiculously good-looking man with a crown, the down-to-earth commoner woman who seemed to have rolled out of a soap commercial, and the kingdom with more political intrigue than a reality show reunion episode.
That's when it hit me.No. No. No. Please no.
I had been reincarnated into that novel.The one I detested.The one where the cold king falls in love with the sweet, courageous commoner girl. The one that had me screaming at my phone with every single cliché plot twist. The one I yelled about to my sole friend who responded with, "Then why are you still reading it?"
Because I have no self-control, Sharon. That's why.
And now? Now I'm stuck here, maybe as some background baby that never even gets referred to again after Chapter 3. Reincarnated not as a hero, not even as a villain—but as a side character so inconsequential that I might as well have "Baby #2" written next to my name in the cast list.
So here I am. Still lounging around. Still goal-less. Still trying to figure out how I managed to screw up reincarnation this badly.
Some individuals are granted a new life in order to clear themselves.Me?I got reincarnated into a book I despise, with no recollections of what will happen next, and an apparatus that can't even support its own neck.
Yep. Just the way things should be.