The rain pounded against the windshield like a relentless drumbeat, blurring the city lights into smeared halos of red and yellow. I gripped the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles whitening as I navigated the slick highway. It was late—too late, really. Another twelve-hour shift at the office had left me bone-tired, my eyes heavy with the weight of spreadsheets and endless meetings.
"Just get home," I muttered to myself, flipping the radio to something upbeat to drown out the storm.
My name was Alex Thompson, a 28-year-old software engineer in the bustling metropolitan city of Chicago. Life was a grind: wake up, code, eat takeout, sleep, repeat. No grand adventures, no epic romance—just the quiet hum of mediocrity. I always dreamed of more, though. As a kid, I devoured fantasy novels, imagining myself as a hero wielding magic or slaying dragons. But reality had a way of crushing those dreams under the heel of bills and deadlines.
I really loved Japanese anime and manga. Even today, I watch anime instead of movies and web series. My friends and elders often laugh at me for watching what they call childish things—or as they see it, just cartoons. Things they say only a child should watch, not a grown man like me.
The traffic ahead slowed to a crawl, brake lights flashing like warning signals. I glanced at my phone. Stupid mistake. A text from my boss: "Need that report by morning. Don't disappoint me."
I sighed, typing a quick reply. That's when it happened.
A semi-truck in the next lane, its massive trailer swinging out like a pendulum. Time seemed to stretch. I swerved, but the roads were treacherous. The impact was massive—a crunch of metal, shattering glass, and then pain. Sharp, all-consuming pain that radiated from my chest. The world spun, and I lost consciousness.
The next time my awareness returned, I saw a huge crowd of people, raindrops falling on my body. Then again, I slipped away. The next time, I saw doctors rushing me on a stretcher inside a hospital. My consciousness faded once more. When it returned again, I saw an operation being performed on my body. Memories of my whole life flashed before me like a film reel.
"Is this the end?" I murmured to myself. Then I felt my heart stop. My eyes slowly closed, darkness swallowing my whole body.
Suddenly, I felt a sensation—not pain, but warmth. Slowly, I opened my eyes. At first, everything was blurry, then a clearer view emerged: a roof made of wood, sunlight streaming through a small window. I tried to move my body, but it felt small—too small.
After a few minutes, I realized the truth. This was the body of a baby. My hands were tiny, unmistakably those of a newborn.
"What?! Aren't I supposed to be dead?" I murmured to myself.
I heard a faint noise—someone walking toward me. The wooden door creaked open slowly, and a humble voice spoke:
"Oh, the little one is awake."
It was a maid with red hair and blue eyes. She picked me up, cradled me on her lap, and carried me downstairs.
I was stunned. I had read so many mangas where people died and got reincarnated in another world. Was this… was this also a classic isekai beginning?