Chapter 1
My name is Jamie Ronan. You might look at me and see a lot of different things.
Maybe you see the half-black, half-Asian heritage that gets me stares on the street.
Maybe you see a twink—I've heard that one a lot—because of my curvy body, slender frame, and a complexion that isn't quite dark, but not white either. Or maybe you just see a guy who looks happy, but that's just the face I put on.
The truth is, my whole life has been a carefully constructed fortress, designed to keep the world out and my inner peace, or what's left of it, in.
And that fortress? It was built with food.
My body, a genetic miracle in its own right, had a deal with me: I could eat whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, and it would just… not turn me into a human-sized dumpling. Trust me, it was a blessing.
The rest of the world could judge me for my happy-go-lucky attitude, but they didn't see the mountains of empty snack bags, chip crumbs, and soda cans that were a constant, swirling testament to my daily existence. My room was a monument to my dietary habits, with every corner a different landfill of flavor.
I was glued to my laptop, as I always was. Today, I was deep in the digital battlefield of my favorite Isekai game, a world where swords clashed and magic users cast fireballs that could wipe out an entire army.
I was so engrossed, so focused on fighting the final boss of the "Battle of a Hundred Warlords" quest line, that my stomach's protest was a distant rumble, easily ignored. My focus was absolute. I dodged a fiery blast, parried a sword strike, and with a swift counter, I watched the enemy's health bar deplete to zero. A victory screen, loud and glorious, flashed before my eyes.
A triumphant smile stretched across my face. I had done it. I had cleared the rank. And just like that, the hunger I had so masterfully ignored came rushing back, a starving beast ready to devour me from the inside out.
My eyes scanned the room, a sad, desperate survey of the snack bag graveyards. There was nothing left but dust and regret.
My stomach rumbled again, louder this time. It was a guttural groan that demanded satisfaction. I sighed, reached for my phone, and with a familiar swipe, opened my most beloved app: Millar Foodstuffs.
It was my lifeline, my personal concierge of all things edible, medicinal, and even culinary. The app had a special place in my heart, a little corner reserved for its magical ability to bring anything I wanted right to my door.
I knew a thing or two about being alone. When my parents died early, my grandparents took me in, only to pass away from old age, leaving me to navigate the world on my own. Loneliness was a constant, a quiet hum in the background of my life. To keep the depression at bay, I had poured my entire existence into two things: games and food. They were my escape, my comfort, my world.
This time, I decided to go with something light. I scrolled through the app, my fingers moving with practiced ease. My eyes landed on the noodles and snacks. A perfect choice. I clicked "order," sealed my fate, and then laid my head down on the table, the hunger a dull ache that made it impossible to play another game. I would just rest my eyes for a minute. Just until the food arrived.
The next thing I knew, I woke up to a sound. It wasn't the familiar buzz of my doorbell or the happy notification on my phone.
It was a strange, echoing noise that sounded like it was coming from far away. I opened my eyes, a wave of grogginess washing over me. I lifted my head and blinked, expecting to see my laptop, my desk, and the familiar clutter of my room.
Instead, I was met with a damn prison.
The air was thick and foul, a wet, earthy stench that made my nose wrinkle. The ground beneath me was hard and cold, and the walls were made of rough, gray stone, the air has that primitive scent.
I sat up, my mind a complete blank. A few feet from me sat a pristine package of noodles and a bag of my favorite snacks.
The sight of them was a comfort, but it was also a stark, terrifying reminder of how little sense anything made.
Then the old attire, clinging to my body, did I join a movie set? or was I being transmigrated?.
"Ha..ha..ha," it doesn't make sense, my laughter wasn't convincing, instead it sounded more like mockery, like I was mocking my damn situation, my eye is playing tricks with me.
It took me a full minute to register the fact that I was in another place entirely. I wasn't just in a different room; I was in a different world.
"Don't tell me," I muttered, my voice hoarse. "Don't tell me I was sent to another world with only these."
Frustration and confusion warred inside me. My mind, still fuzzy from sleep, tried to make sense of the situation, but it just couldn't. I just couldn't. Then, with a soft chime, something popped up right in front of my face, leaving me staring at a menu that was both new and incredibly familiar.
It was a system. The very same kind I had played with in my Isekai game.
I sighed, a long, weary sound of complete disbelief.
I knew I liked playing those games, but there was a huge difference between playing a game and being trapped in one. The last thing I wanted was to be chased by a beast-man or have to fight for my life.
But then, a more pressing, more important thought occurred to me. The noodles. They would get soggy if I didn't eat them soon. The stench of the prison faded into the background as my hunger took over. Priorities. First thing's first.
I ignored the stinking air and my completely insane situation. I tore open the noodle package, found the small seasoning packet, and started eating, the familiar taste a small piece of home in this alien world.
The situation was insane, but at least the food was good. Once I was done eating, I looked up to see the system hovering in front of me, its glowing blue screen displaying information I didn't want to read.
I took a deep breath. Okay. Fine. I had no choice. I had to know what was going on. I read the screen, and my heart sank.
It said I had been transmigrated into a beast world as an Omega male. I groaned.
I was a straight man, a god-damned straight man. This was the absolute last thing I wanted. I recognized the name of the story, a trending novel called "Forever Savagely." I had overheard some of my female friends talking about it, and I had paid attention because the Omega had the same name as me. The story was about a an Omega who ended up married to a monstrous Alpha, a Siberian tiger named Lucien.
The thought of being in that world, of having to deal with a savage beast, was almost enough to make me lose my mind. I took another shaky breath and tried to think.
I didn't have my phone, but the system had come with me, my beloved Millar Foodstuffs, now transformed into a lifeline. A glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, I could use my love of food to get out of this mess. Maybe.
But for now, there were still a few noodles left. I finished them, the cold comfort of the food a welcome distraction from the sheer insanity of my new life.