In a realm beyond mortal comprehension, divine figures loomed over a swirling cosmic pool, gazing at the events unfolding below. The shifting, ethereal mist reflected glimpses of a lone figure—Franz Kafka—stretching inside a dimly lit apartment.
One of the beings—a luminous entity with a voice like chimes—spoke first, unease creeping into their tone.
"Uh… I think we might've made a mistake."
Another, wreathed in golden flames, scoffed. "Define mistake."
"We rolled the dice and gave him a random body, right?" the first one continued, shifting nervously.
"Yeah, and?"
"That body was never meant to last long. If things had gone as planned, it would've died before the isekai event!"
Silence.
A third divine, wrapped in an ever-flowing mist, exhaled. "So what you're saying is… we just accidentally sent a guy—who was only supposed to live a peaceful life—into another world's power struggle?"
The pool rippled, revealing Franz yawning before casually examining himself in the mirror, utterly unfazed.
The gods all exchanged looks.
"…So, whose idea was it to roll the dice?"
Golden Flames pointed at Chimes. Chimes pointed at Ethereal Mist. Ethereal Mist pointed at Golden Flames.
A moment of tense silence.
"Oh, we're so screwed."
Franz stretched, feeling pleasantly sore. His body felt powerful, though not in an overwhelming way—just efficient, like every movement had purpose. He had always been decently fit in his old life, but this? This was different.
His stomach growled.
"Hunger. Guess this body still runs on food like a normal person. Good to know."
He walked over to the kitchen and pulled open the fridge. Inside, he found eggs, some vegetables, and a few basic groceries. 'Alright. Simple enough.'
"System, you know how to cook?"
[Of course. Cooking is an essential survival skill.]
"Then help me out." He cracked his knuckles. "Let's make something good."
A new interface flickered to life in his vision—clean, efficient, with precise step-by-step instructions. It was weird, like suddenly knowing the exact rhythm and motion for each action before even attempting it.
His hands moved smoothly as he diced vegetables, his knife work swift and precise. The eggs cracked perfectly, no shell fragments getting in the bowl. Even the heat control on the stove felt instinctual, as if the system had subtly optimized his technique.
As he worked, he absentmindedly started singing, "Oops, I did it again~ I played with your heart—"
[Correction: You are cooking, not playing with hearts.]
"That's the beauty of the song, System. Metaphors."
[Illogical.]
"Man, you must be fun at parties."
The system didn't dignify that with a response.
Within minutes, a perfectly golden omelet was plated, alongside buttered toast and sautéed vegetables. The aroma filled the kitchen, making him nod in approval.
'Damn. That actually looks amazing.'
As he ate, he leaned back in his chair, relaxing for the first time since waking up in this body. It was weird how quickly he was adapting, but then again… what was the point of overthinking?
"So… what's the plan now?"
[If you want a quiet life, we need to do something about your appearance.]
Franz raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong with it?"
[You're… noticeable.]
He blinked. Then he remembered—6'3", jacked like a war god, covered in scars. Right.
"Yeah, fair point." He exhaled. "Alright. What's the fix?"
[Step one: Change your hairstyle.]
Franz smirked. "Step two better not be 'get uglier.'"
[Step two: Acquire non-threatening clothing.]
He stared at the system screen for a second before chuckling. "Alright, I'll bite. What's 'non-threatening clothing'?"
[Oversized hoodies. Preferably neutral or pastel colors.]
"…You want me to dress like a college freshman who just discovered lo-fi beats?"
[Affirmative.]
He sighed. "Fine. What else?"
[Step three: Glasses.]
Franz stopped. "Glasses?"
[Studies show that glasses reduce perceived threat levels by 63%.]
"First of all, I can see just fine."
[Irrelevant. It is about image.]
Franz pinched the bridge of his nose. "So, to summarize, your brilliant strategy for making me less noticeable… is a hoodie and fake glasses?"
[And possibly a beanie.]
He groaned. "Alright, whatever. Let's go shopping."
Even if, deep down, he had a feeling that no matter what he did… trouble would still find him.
Franz stood up, stretching again, when a thought struck him.
"Wait. I need money for this."
His gaze drifted around the apartment. His initial plan was to check drawers or maybe find some loose change lying around .he walked over to one of the one of the cupboards and pulled it open.
The moment he did, his expression remained completely blank.
Inside, neatly stacked, were three large duffel bags.
Franz grabbed one, unzipped it, and stared.
Stacks of cash. Thick bundles, tightly packed and secured with rubber bands.
He opened the second bag.
Guns. Magazines. Enough to turn any random guy into an immediate national security threat.
The third? More of the same.
Franz closed the cupboard.
Paused.
Opened it again.
Yup. Still there.
He exhaled through his nose. "Huh."
The system, which had plenty to say about his choice of wardrobe earlier, now remained completely silent.
[ you wont have to care about money atleast ]
"You don't say," he muttered, slipping his hands into his pockets. His face remained completely neutral, like he had just found an extra bag of rice instead of an illegal arsenal.
He glanced around the room again, spotting a hoodie draped over a chair. Without thinking too much, he grabbed it and pulled it over his head. It was slightly oversized, but it worked.
Franz simply grabbed one of the cash bundles and pocketed it.
"Alright. Shopping it is."