Chapter Text
Till was tired. He was damn tired.
After a full shift of shitty customers yelling at him, and doing his best to not yell back just as loud made Till really fucking tired.
He barely caught the last train home, and it was taking every last ounce of his willpower not to fall asleep. He watched the lights in the tunnel fly past, wondering why he was even trying so hard.
He lived in a shoebox of an apartment with terrible neighbors and enough mold that Till felt like he should be charging it rent. His barely-above-minimum-wage job wasn’t getting him anywhere. He was living paycheck to paycheck and could only put pennies into his savings.
His only family, at least the ones who gave a shit if he lived or died, had passed a long time ago. He was awkward and quick to anger, so there were no friends to speak of either.
Even his cat had died last month.
Till really had to wonder. What was the point?
The automated recording read out the name of his stop, dragging Till out of his downward spiral. He grabbed his bag, and made his way out of the station.
His shitty apartment was quite a walk from the train station, because of course it was.
He’d made the same walk so many times he could do it with his eyes closed. To pass the time, he unlocked his sorry excuse for a phone.
The poor thing was barely hanging on, with smaller cracks littering the periphery of the screen and one big one that cut diagonally from the top left corner to the middle of the right side. The paint was flaking off around the charging port and the back cover was loose towards the bottom.
It had already been pretty messed up when he bought it second hand, but it was all he could afford that wasn’t a flip phone. He probably wouldn’t have lasted as long as he had without access to the internet.
He emptied out the spam from his email, and checked the weather for the next few days. The last thing he did was open up a web novel app.
He never paid for chapters, and just settled for reading the shitty free novels for some entertainment. Even the worst ones were able to stave off his boredom for a few hours.
Till had been slowly making his way through one called Ruler of My Heart . It had every trope in the book; a male lead who was perfect at everything except emotions and had an obsession with the female lead. A female lead who is always optimistic no matter what situation she faces. And lastly, lots and lots of smut. ( Yeah it was an R rated novel, sue him. )
The romance was rushed and in TIll’s opinion the main couple had no romantic chemistry at all. Hell, the female lead had more chemistry with her knight than the male lead.
Oh, and the male lead, what a psycho. It only took him meeting the female lead three times and he was ready to lock her up. The guy was a real black flag if you ask Till, and with a stupid name to boot. Seriously, who named the male lead of a romantic fantasy novel Ivan ?
The female lead, Mizi, was way too good for him. This wasn't Till's favoritism talking either, ( yes she was his favorite character ) she genuinely was too good for the guy.
Ivan was the crown prince of the fantasy kingdom. He was considered to be a great choice for the throne by both the common people and the nobility, only it wasn't because he actually cared about the kingdom. No, he was just really talented at playing politics and had a meticulously crafted personal image.
Mizi, on the other hand, cared . She cared deeply for the people of this kingdom no matter their status or background. She was the perfect fit for the kingdom's saintess. No one had to question why she was the one chosen by the fantasy gods.
Then there was the matter of the romance. It was trash, plain and simple. The author never gave Ivan any reason to be obsessed with Mizi, he just suddenly was. It was obvious that the rushed relationship was so the author could get to the R rated scenes faster.
The smut was better than the rest of the story, but just for the first few times. Reading chapter after chapter of these two fucking started to feel like a chore. It got to the point he would just scroll past the sex to get back to some plot.
To think, Till chose this novel specifically for the hot cover art of Ivan Mizi and the “R-rated” in the title and here he is scrolling past the bed scenes!
He was mostly reading it out of spite at this point. Maybe, just maybe, the author will say sike! and kill off Ivan or something so that Mizi can be happy.
Till wasn't going to hold his breath.
Honestly, he was just too invested. He'd already read so many chapters, why not just finish the damn thing? It's not like he had anything else to fill his time with.
Till came to the street he had to cross before making the last leg home. He was responsible and looked up from his phone, checking both ways before he crossed.
Halfway across, a light suddenly blinded him. He put his hands up to shield his face.
Blinking the spots out of his vision, Till could finally see the box truck careening down the small street towards him.
Till didn't think much of it at first, mostly annoyed at being blinded by the headlights. He could feel himself pulling a sneer at the driver.
He started walking again, turning his attention away from the truck. He was almost across the street now. Maybe three or four steps from the sidewalk, and Till had the horrible realization that the truck wasn't slowing down.
Till froze like a deer in the headlights. There was no way the driver could miss him with those bright as fuck lights. So why weren't they slowing down?
His senses came back to him and Till made to sprint to the safety of the sidewalk. He was too late.
The lights were right next to him.
And then it all went dark.
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Till opened his eyes to a blinding light. He immediately closed them again, turning his face away.
His memories came rushing back. Oh shit the truck!
Till panicked, flailing around. He felt himself falling, and then the painful sensation of his face crashing into hardwood flooring.
Till groaned, rolling onto his back to cradle his tender nose.
He opened his eyes, and there was no truck in sight. Not only was the truck missing, Till had no fucking clue where he was at all.
His eyes widened as he took in the lavishly decorated bedroom.
This was the kind of place someone like him would be chased away from just for looking at the exterior a little too long.
Till freed himself from the sheets he was tangled in, and carefully peered over the bed he had just fallen from. A stray beam of sunlight filtered in from a gap in the curtains, landing where his head would have been. Besides that, it was completely empty and just as fancy as the rest of the room.
Till couldn’t help but run his hands over the soft bedding in awe. He’d never gotten to sleep in something as nice as this before.
A red drop bloomed over the white fabric.
Till slapped a hand over his nose, hissing when he made contact. Fuck, his nose was bleeding and he just got some on the fancy bed.
With one hand, Till fixed the sheet he’d dragged off the bed to hide the blood. He was already in enough debt, he didn’t need the owner of this place trying to charge him for this.
Keeping one hand under his nose, Till dared to wander further into the room. He found the connecting bathroom, which was just as opulent as the rest of this place.
Till met the eyes of his reflection through a large mirror. It was, well, him. His nose was red, but other than that he looked healthy. Actually, he looked much better than he had in months.
His cheeks were no longer sunken in, he had no eyebags to speak of, and his skin was probably the best it's ever looked in his life.
As Till tended to his bleeding nose he had to wonder just what kind of a situation he’d gotten himself into. Kidnapped? No, who would want a destitute loner like him. If it was to sell his organs then he’d already be dead.
Also who would leave a kidnapped victim in such a nice room?
His nosebleed had slowed down enough for him to leave the bathroom. Till cautiously approached the door, and tried the handle.
Definitely not kidnapping then, because the door opened without issue.
Peering through the crack, Till saw that the room opened into a grand hallway lined with even more doors. A man entered his view. He was dressed like a butler, complete with the tailcoat and everything, something he’d only ever seen on television.
The man was holding a basin of water and came to an abrupt stop when he saw Till.
“Young master, you're awake!”
Till could only look around in confusion before hesitantly pointing to himself.
The man started to make a comment, but then his eyes landed on the mess of dried blood that covered Till’s upper lip.
“You’re injured! I shall return with the doctor post haste.” The man set the water basin on a nearby table, and nearly ran down the hallway.
Till was left standing in the doorway even more confused than when he first woke up.
The man returned with a small army of similarly dressed men and women and who Till could only assume was the doctor based on his attire being different.
Till wasn’t able to get so much as a word out before he was corralled into a large plush chair. Multiple different people began to fuss over him. The doctor took his temperature and checked his pulse. The man from the hallway wiped the dried blood from his face. A woman dressed like a maid attempted to tame his bedhead.
The rest of the people dressed like butlers and maids busied themselves with cleaning up the room. They changed the bed sheets ( Till hoped they didn’t see the blood stain ), opened the window to let in fresh air, and started setting up a mouthwatering assortment of food on the table next to him.
Under any normal circumstance Till would have snapped at these strangers trying to touch him. He liked his personal space, okay. Till wasn’t afraid to bite if the situation called for it.
This was not a normal circumstance. These people outnumbered him and Till didn’t know what they wanted. At the moment they didn’t seem to have any intentions of harming him. Actually, if anything, they seemed worried about his health.
People began to leave the room as their tasks were completed. Soon it was just the three standing around him.
Till managed to find his voice, and croak out, “What’s happening right now?”
The butler looked to the doctor with alarm. “Don’t worry,” the doctor pacified him, “a bit of confusion is normal.”
The doctor turned his attention back to Till, “Young master, you’ve been unconscious with a high fever for over a week now. We were worried that you may not make it, but it seems that you are on the path to recovery.”
“The nose bleed is a bit worrisome.” The doctor said under his breath, gently tilting Till’s chin up.
“I fell out of the bed and hit my nose.” Till answered, not really knowing why he did so.
The doctor looked relieved, “As long as it's not from the fever, then you should be back to normal by the end of the week.”
“Back to normal, how?” Till swallowed down his anxiety.
“Young master?” The woman behind him asked.
“And why do you keep calling me that?” Till looked between the three strangers, and they all traded glances between themselves.
“Young master, what is the last thing you remember?”
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This could not be happening.
Till picked at the feast laid out before him. It was a pity he couldn't focus on the taste of the food. He’d never eaten something so fancy before in his life.
Till stared at his hands. They were undeniably his. There was the scar on his right ring finger from falling out of a tree when he was younger. He still had calluses from years of playing the guitar. They were his hands.
Memory loss, the doctor concluded.
When he asked about his hands the butler told him the calluses were from sword practice, and the scar was from a sparring accident. These weren’t Till’s hands at all.
This Till was a young master who studied the blade, and had never wanted for anything. He slept in an obnoxiously expensive bed and had servants who waited on him hand and foot. This Till had parents who were alive and well.
The soup in his mouth tasted like ash.
Till remembered the blinding lights of the truck. He remembered, viscerally , the feeling of his body breaking from the force of the impact. The pain. He remembered the unimaginable pain.
All of this sounded like the start of some cliche web novel.
His spoon trembled as he brought it to his mouth. A newspaper was laid out on the table. The front page headlined a story and had a picture of the protagonist taking up most of the page.
Till recognized the man in the picture.
He had let out a laugh of disbelief when he’d first laid eyes on it. Before the reality of his situation settled on him.
The man was handsome and dignified in the picture. Dark hair and eyes, complete with a perfect little smile playing on his lips. He looked exactly like he had on the cover of Ruler of my Heart .
“Crown Prince Ivan returns victorious from battle.” Till read aloud.
He’s been fucking isekai-ed.