By lunchtime, the office is still buzzing about the promotion.
Ryan's already updated his email signature. I fight the urge to scoff.
I grab my usual cheese-and-mustard sandwich, dry, tragic, familiar, and retreat to the far corner of the breakroom, the table farthest from the microwave and its burnt-popcorn disciples. What is it about shared spaces and popcorn?
The vending machine hums with electricity. Someone's chip bag crackles. The smell of stale coffee hangs in the air. It's all white noise for the end of the world.
I bite into my sandwich. It tastes like cardboard.
At least I have my phone. My lifeline. A contented sigh escapes me. I've been looking forward to this all day.
I open my favorite webnovel, Rescue the Villain, Ruin the Plot. Same story I've been following for weeks, a classic otomeisekai with a twist: the heroine isn't chosen or blessed or special. She's just a normal girl who gets swept into a world she never asked for, and instead of saving the hero, she saves the villain and runs.
I've been waiting for the next update, and the notification finally pinged this morning.
I smile as I scroll to where I left off.
The heroine is facing down the prince, the so-called hero, eyes blazing.
"You think being a prince entitles you to my loyalty?" she spits. "I owe you nothing."
I can almost hear her voice. I can feel it. I'm lost in it, immediately absorbed.
In this world, there's tension and purpose and choice. The heroine fights back. She changes the script. It's a place where fairness means something—where people who deserve recognition actually get it, and the consequences can be devastating.
For a few blissful minutes, I'm gone. No Ryan, no rent, no stack of overdue notices breeding on my counter. Just me and a girl with a sword, rewriting her own fate.
Then—
SPLASH.
Ice-cold liquid crashes across my lap, soaking my sandwich, my blouse, my phone—everything. I jolt up, chair tipping backward. My phone skitters across the table, screen flickering once before going black.
"Oh my god, I am so sorry!"
Brit from Marketing stands frozen, eyes wide, empty cup trembling in her hand.
"Total accident! Is your phone okay?"
I pick it up, wiping at the screen with a napkin so thin it's instantly useless. The display flashes twice, then dies. No light. No sound. Nothing.
❖ SYSTEM MESSAGE ❖
SYSTEM ERROR:
Communication device malfunction.
WARNING:
Emotional instability imminent.
I glare at the words hanging in the air. "Yeah, no kidding."
Brit blinks. "Sorry?"
"Nothing. Just… talking to myself."
She offers a nervous smile while I blot at the puddle in my lap. "Well, now you have a good excuse to get a new one, right?"
The comment hits harder than it should. A new one. A new one?
I grit my teeth, forcing a smile. "It's fine."
She means well. She always does. She doesn't know what it feels like to measure every purchase against which bill can go unpaid, or decide whether water or power is more important this month.
Still, the bitterness crawls out from around my heart and up my throat. I bite back a sarcastic remark.
She wouldn't understand.
When she finally leaves after another round of apologies, I let out a sound that's supposed to be a laugh. It comes out like a wheeze through broken glass.
I stare at the phone in my hands. It's ridiculous, but it feels like watching the last thread holding my life together snap. My one escape from this godforsaken reality, gone.
The ache comes on slowly—behind my ribs, then up into my chest. Like a fever, it spreads everywhere. My jaw tightens, each breath choked and halting.
I don't notice the tears until they're spilling onto the table in front of me, quiet and full of every bottled-up emotion I've swallowed today. Tears of grief and sorrow and deep, unending loneliness. Impossible to stop one they begin.
I stare at the dead screen and feel something inside me break.
I can't do this anymore.
By the time I pull myself together enough to move, I'm soaked, sticky, and shaking. I shove everything into my bag and hurry back to the imaginary safety of my cubicle, praying no one stops me.
Inside my tiny beige sanctuary, I collapse into my chair and press my palms to my eyes. The sobs come again, smaller this time, steadier. I stifle them, hoping no one hears the quiet orchestra of hurt playing less than three feet away.
It feels like everything I've had carefully taped together for years has finally given way.
My heart and mind are speaking two different languages, and neither one makes sense anymore.
The pressure in my chest builds until it's all I can feel. I imagine sinking, slowly, silently, down through dark water, the weight crushing but oddly calm. My tears just keep coming.
Crying in an office feels like being trapped in an aquarium. Exposed for everyone to see, but not an exhibit worth a second glance.
I am very much alone.
When the tears finally runt heir course, I'm left hollow and lightheaded. My phone sits dead on the desk.
For the first time all day, the inside of my head is quiet. No plans, no system prompts, just the ever-present flicker of the fluorescent light struggling above me.
A message ping breaks the silence.
Ryan.
Figures.
I wipe my face with the sleeve of my ruined blouse. It smells like caramel.
The rest of the day dissolves into the usual blur of emails, fake smiles, and the slow decay of my will to live. I am noticeably exhausted and thankful that no one asks about my puffy eyes. I leave Ryan on read and log out when the sky outside is already dark.
The city is loud and artificially bright as I walk to the bus stop, headlights streaking across puddles from an earlier drizzle. My clothes are still tacky against my skin. The breeze catches my hair, sticky with someone else's drink.
I replay the day in my head—Ryan feigning humility, Todd's inevitable "weekend help" email, the coffee, my phone, the breakdown, the humiliation. The only thing missing is a final cosmic insult. I half expect a car to speed by and splash water all over me, just to keep the theme consistent.
❖ SYSTEM MESSAGE ❖
QUEST AVAILABLE:
Cross to the other side
REWARD:
New Title Unlocked — Lady
WARNING:
Forfeit of existing title, Permanent
I stop at the crosswalk, staring at the glowing text. My pulse kicks.
Another one?
I'd almost forgotten about them amid all the chaos.
The message hangs in the air, sharper than usual. For the first time, it doesn't feel like a joke. It feels... intentional.
I remind myself of the stress I've been under. A hallucination. Maybe a migraine aura. Whatever it is, it'll disappear after a night of sleep and something that isn't processed cheese.
My stomach growls at the thought. I hadn't been able to salvage my sandwich, and my petty heart couldn't bear the idea of eating one of the traitor's donuts—no matter how good they looked.
The message fades as the light turns green. I step forward.
I don't want to have to explain this to a doctor. "Seeing floating text boxes" doesn't exactly scream mental stability.
I rub my temple, willing a headache to come, just so I'll have something tangible to blame.
I wish I could be like the heroines in those webnovels—pulled into another world where choices matter, where I matter, where there's adventure and consequence and meaning.
My eyes sting again. With the courtesy of civil inattention, it's easier to let the tears fall on my walk, but I hide my face behind my umbrella just in case.
"How did I end up like this?" I whisper, voice breaking against the city noise.
I shake my head and step off the curb.
The truck's horn tears through the night in front of me.
HOOOOONK!