We all experience loss at some point in our lives. It feels like being stranded on an empty island, forced to find another way to survive. Some of us choose to swim, driven by the hope of reaching an unknown shore. Others stay behind, clinging to a place that will soon wither away.

Those who stay eventually run out of resources, and those who swim risk exhaustion. Many are pulled under, struggling against forces stronger than them. Some barely manage to stay afloat. To me, that's what life is—a constant fight against things beyond our control.

But what if something greater helped you swim?

What if, just as you were about to drown, someone pulled you into a boat? That’s what fiction is to me—a lifeline, like grabbing onto a floating bottle in a vast sea.

I often find myself wishing for another world. But what if that wish actually came true? What if you were really transported to another world? As someone who loves storytelling, I’m obsessed with isekai. I also enjoy mystery films, documentaries, and comedy-dramas.

Reading and watching these stories is my way of escaping from work stress. It reminds me that no matter how serious life gets, keeping a bit of childlike wonder is the key to real happiness.

Lately, I’ve been devouring isekai stories. It’s a genre in Japanese fiction where people wake up as someone new—a princess, a hero, a villainess, a baby, or even a maid in a powerful household.

So why… why am I here as myself, broke, alone, and worse, a captive who might die at any moment?!

(A/N: She only read and knows an isekai genre filled with transmigration stories)

"An impressive feat, General Helion. You've once again proven yourself worthy of your new title."

"You flatter me, Your Imperial Majesty. But I believe that if His Highness, the Prince, joined us, we could have accomplished even more."

Voices echo around me. The temptation to look up is strong, but fear keeps my gaze locked on the ground. We've been forced to kneel, hands bound behind our backs, and my legs are numb from staying in this position for too long. Meanwhile, the armored men talk among themselves, full of pride.

Despite my fear, a strange excitement stirs within me. A real king and prince—figures I’ve only read about in fantasy novels—are right here.

"That can't be helped. Well, let's see what kind of slaves you've brought this time."

"Of course, Your Majesty. Allow me to present them—strong and fortunate knights to serve you."

One by one, the warriors are shown off like trophies. They barely glance at us before moving on. A quick look around tells me how hopeless our situation is. We’re completely surrounded by well-armed soldiers, each radiating an air of power. Just imagining what a single flick from them makes me shudder.

"Like hell, we'll serve you! We are proud knights of the Aldo Kingdom! We kneel to no one but our king!" a man beside me shouts, his voice defiant as he struggles against his captors.

Whoa! That takes guts. It’s like watching a dramatic scene in a movie. But… why am I kneeling with them?

"We'd rather die than obey a tyrant like you!" another man roars. The prisoners resist, but their rebellion is short-lived. They are swiftly beaten down, some forced to bow as blood drips from their wounds.

Their courage is admirable, but my survival instinct tells me to stay quiet. If I get a chance to escape, I’ll need all my strength. Unfortunately, my silence doesn’t go unnoticed. In fact, it catches the king’s attention.

"I like their spirit. Training them will be enjoyable. But that one… he looks weak."

A shiver runs down my spine. I don’t need to look up to know he’s talking about me.

"Show me its face," the king commands.

A warrior grips my chin and forces my head up. I take in the sight before me: two thrones at different heights. An older man, likely the king, sits at the highest, his long sword standing beside him, a clear symbol of his authority. Below him sits a younger man, resting lazily in a simpler chair, looking bored.

I ignore the old man and focus on the younger one. He has long black hair that complements his warm-toned skin. His golden eyes, shadowed by thick brows—one with a scar—gleam with a dangerous curiosity. His presence alone is terrifying.

Oh, God. He looks like a prince from the underworld—but damn, he looks good. Ahem!

I quickly avert my gaze, but something even more unsettling catches my eye. Two women stand beside the thrones, dressed in lavish outfits, golden chains trailing from their necks to their feet. Their faces are half-covered, their expressions unreadable. But their eyes… their empty, lifeless eyes make my stomach churn.

What kind of place is this? A cold dread settles over me. If I don’t find a way out, will that be my fate too?

"Hmm… He doesn't look great either." the king mutters.

Excuse me?!

"I don’t need that one. Kill him." the king commanded, waving his hand dismissively as if ordering my execution.

Excuse me?! 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!" My panic kicks in. I had a lot to say to that old man, but more urgently If they take me away, I’m dead for sure. Through the open golden doors, I can almost feel the ominous aura of my impending doom.

"I’m not one of them! I’m not a warrior or a knight or anything!" I yell, struggling against the hands dragging me away. "I was just a normal citizen—No, I was a HOSTAGE!!" My breath hitches as I try to explain. The prince raises a hand, and the guards stop.

"Is that true?" he asks, though he doesn’t look at me—he’s questioning the captured knights. But before they can respond, I blurt out,

"T-They wouldn’t know! I was held in secret. I escaped, but I climbed onto the wrong cart—a war cart full of weapons! That’s how I got caught up in all this!"

Oh god, what am I even saying? But they’re listening, so I might as well keep going. What more can I do to survive? Should I say I can dance? Sing?

"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 knights hissed.

Sorry, but I'm not dying for your kingdom!

"Do you know who took you?" the prince asked. I took a big gulp, preparing to lie through my teeth. "I was held captive by what they called a general. I 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.

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

The prince studies me. "You survived among knights and warriors… even in the middle of battle. That’s impressive."

Uh-oh. That logic makes me look even more suspicious.

"T-That’s because I hid among the bodies until I passed out!"

Technically true. No one stays sane after seeing a severed head roll right in front of them.

"Then why would a general take you hostage?"

"That's because…"

I HAVE NO IDEA!!!  Think, think, think! What would make a good answer? There was no way that bored face would care about modern dance or songs.

I glance around the room, my eyes landing on ancient carvings along the stone pillars. Symbols… letters…

"I-I can read and write different languages!" I blurt out, eyes closed. Please let this work!

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.

"Prove it." The prince rose from his seat, his dark, flowing hair framing a face that now glistened with interest.

Oh, crap. How do I prove something I just made up?!

My pulse thundered in my ears. Think, or your neck will meet the blade! 

As I glanced up to look at the prince, the guard's firm grip forced me to bow, my head throbbing from a sudden 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 from my head.

As my pulse pounds, an insane idea hits me. With trembling fingers, I dip into a puddle of blood on the floor and start scribbling:

Scribble: +AnHG!nHanNg# buUh#@yY TtO mMam4+AayY nNa B@ Kk()?
Translate: F*** this life, am I going to die?

I must be 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.


As I release my fingers into the blood on the ground, the cool slickness grinds me into the chaos. I silently prayed that my long-forgotten Jeje days would serve me now.

"Your Majesty, I will take this man."

My breath caught in my throat as I stared up at the prince, whose lips curved into a menacing smile. 

Wait… WHAT?! Did it actually work?!

Confusion twisted in my gut as I was ordered to be escorted away, but I couldn't tear my eyes from the prince.

I should be relieved, but all I feel is the sinking realization that I might have just walked into something even more dangerous. Still, as I distanced myself from them, a wave of relief washed over me. My desperate scribbling had somehow succeeded. Gratitude filled my heart for those bygone Jejemon days.

Let's think about how we fix things in the future, more importantly, today…I survive.