Park Hwi-Seong, 32. His battlefield was not war… but the battered couch in his dim little apartment.
A blanket wrapped around his legs. A bag of chips crinkled lazily in his hand. On the television, a romance-drama flickered, painting his walls with soft, fleeting light.
He had never loved in reality. But through movies? He had loved a thousand times.
On-screen, a wealthy male lead kissed his beloved under a rain of city lights. Hwi-Seong's lips curled into a wistful smile, his eyes drifting shut. If only I were like him… loved like him…
Morning came.
The office buzzed with its dull routine. Hwi-Seong nursed a lukewarm coffee while coworkers chatted in clusters.
Suddenly, a red-faced colleague burst in, waving his phone wildly."It's not a coincidence! Every isekai protagonist—saves someone, then BAM! Truck-Kun strikes. It's destiny!"
Laughter roared through the room."Truck-Kun? You've lost it!" someone howled.Hwi-Seong chuckled too, though something in his chest stirred at the absurd words.
Their manager's sharp voice cut through the noise."Enough. Back to work."And the spell was broken.
Night again.
Hwi-Seong sat before his screen, snacks scattered like loyal soldiers around him.
Ding-Dong.
The doorbell rang. He blinked in surprise, pausing the drama.
At the door stood a smiling neighbor with a welcome gift, while a little boy tugged along a toy van tied to a rope."We just moved in," the man said warmly.
The boy sat on the carpet soon after, pushing his toy truck with careless delight.
Later, hunger struck.The empty pantry mocked him. With a sigh, Hwi-Seong slipped into his jacket and stepped into the night.
The street lay quiet under a pale moon.
Ahead, an old man with a cane began crossing the road.Then—blinding headlights tore through the silence.
Without a thought, Hwi-Seong lunged forward, shoving the man clear.The truck roared past, metal screaming against asphalt.
Gasps. Phone cameras flashing.Hwi-Seong staggered back, adrenaline surging, cheeks flushed. Did I just… save someone?
Back home, groceries under one arm, he hummed in quiet pride.The neighbor stopped by again, this time sharing a comic titled: "I'm Surviving as the Protagonist's Rival."They laughed together. The night softened.
But fate had not finished weaving its cruel joke.
The boy's toy van slipped from his grip—Clatter!
It hit the floor with a violent thud.In Hwi-Seong's eyes, the harmless toy warped—becoming a monstrous grill, a rushing truck bearing down.
His breath caught. His body froze.
And then—
Destiny struck.