Chapter 1: Truck Kun Never Misses
Jake shuffled down the street, clutching a cardboard box filled with his belongings: a half-empty jar of peanut butter, a broken bobblehead, and a pair of socks he swore weren't his. It was all that remained of his two-week stint at "Burger Palace."
He sighed, kicking a pebble down the sidewalk. It ricocheted off a fire hydrant and hit him square in the shin. "Yep, that checks out," he muttered, rubbing his leg.
Two blocks back, his now ex-manager had stood behind the counter, nervously wringing his hands.
"Look, Jake, it's not about your performance," the man had said, avoiding eye contact. "You're... adequate. But my wife really wants a job, and, well… you're the newest hire."
Jake blinked. "So, I'm getting fired because your wife wants a hobby?"
"It's not personal—"
"It feels pretty personal!" Jake had snapped.
Now, trudging home under the blazing sun, Jake couldn't decide which was worse: losing his job or knowing it was to someone who once burned spaghetti in a toaster.
As he walked, a group of kids on bicycles sped past him, laughing and yelling. One of them turned back and pointed at the box in Jake's arms. "Hey, mister! Nice 'I-got-fired' starter pack!"
Jake glared at the kid. "Thanks for the input, future tax burden!"
The kid stuck his tongue out and pedaled away.
Jake sighed and adjusted his box. This wasn't how life was supposed to go. He'd always imagined himself becoming someone—maybe a CEO, a millionaire, or at least the guy who doesn't get fired because of someone's marital politics.
He stopped in front of a coffee shop and peered through the window. Inside, couples laughed, friends chatted, and some guy was aggressively typing on a laptop like he was solving world hunger.
Jake stared at his reflection in the glass. His brown hair stuck out in weird angles, his Burger Palace uniform was wrinkled beyond repair, and his face carried the unmistakable look of a man defeated by life.
"Great," he muttered. "Even my reflection is judging me."
He turned and kept walking. The weight of the box made his arms ache, but the weight of his existence felt heavier.
Jake trudged home after his humiliating firing, still clutching his cardboard box of shame. His apartment building wasn't much—a crumbling structure with peeling paint and a smell that could best be described as "wet socks and despair." As he climbed the stairs, a cockroach scurried past him like it was late for an important meeting.
"Sure, even the roaches are living a better life than me," Jake muttered, reaching his door.
The one-room apartment was as depressing as he remembered. The sagging couch doubled as his bed, the ceiling fan wobbled like it was about to drop, and the only light bulb flickered as if deciding whether it was worth staying on. Jake dumped the box on the counter and slumped into the couch.
He stared at the ceiling, letting his mind wander to when everything went wrong. He wasn't always this pathetic. Back in high school, he was the golden boy—smart, athletic, and admired. A prodigy. Captain of the basketball team. Straight-A student. Life had been perfect.
Until her.
Sophia. His girlfriend. The love of his life. Or so he thought.
Jake clenched his fists, the memory still raw. It was his senior year when the rumors started. Whispers in the hallways. Snickers behind his back. At first, he ignored them. Sophia was perfect. She couldn't possibly be... that.
But then he found out. She wasn't just the love of his life—she was the love of half the school's lives. And the janitor's.
Jake's stomach churned as the scene replayed in his mind. The confrontation in the locker room. Her half-hearted excuses.
"It's not a big deal, Jake. You're the only one I actually love."
"Are you kidding me, Sophia? I haven't even seen you naked, but everyone else has a backstage pass?!"
That was the beginning of the end. His grades plummeted. His performance on the basketball court turned into a joke. The golden boy had fallen, and the world laughed.
Then came the car accident. His parents—his only support system—were gone in an instant. No warnings, no goodbyes. Just a knock on the door and a somber-faced officer holding a hat he didn't recognize.
By the time Jake was 21, his life was a series of unfortunate events with no silver lining. Now, he sat in his dingy apartment, stomach growling. He shuffled to the kitchen and opened the fridge, hoping for a miracle.
There wasn't one. Just a slice of bread that had become a fungi colony.
"Well, at least someone's thriving," Jake muttered, slamming the fridge shut.
He grabbed his wallet—empty except for a crumpled five-dollar bill—and decided to head out for food. As he walked down the street, the neon lights of fast-food joints called to him like sirens.
Soon, he found himself at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. The highway buzzed with speeding cars and trucks. Jake stared at the blur of headlights, his thoughts spiraling.
Then he saw it. A white truck barreling down the road.
"Truck-kun."
The legendary harbinger of second chances. He'd read countless webnovels where miserable protagonists like him got hit by trucks, only to wake up in a new world full of magic, adventure, and—most importantly—harems.
Jake's heart raced. Could it work? Could he leave this dumpster fire of a life behind?
"Truck-kun never misses," he whispered, stepping closer to the edge of the sidewalk.
Another truck approached, its horn blaring. Jake grinned, spreading his arms wide.
"Take me, Truck-kun! I'm ready for my isekai!"
The driver barely had time to react before Jake leapt in front of the truck, shouting, "Truck-kun never mi—"
THUD.
__________________________
As Jake lay sprawled on the cold pavement, his vision fading to black, his thoughts began to swirl in a chaotic mess. His life was flashing before his eyes, but instead of poignant memories, it was like a poorly edited slideshow of his most embarrassing moments.
But amidst all the regret—losing his parents, failing at basketball, getting fired—one thought stood out above all.
"My greatest regret… I'm dying a virgin!"
His chest heaved with his final breaths, and he mentally screamed at the heavens—or whatever celestial bureaucrat was in charge of his miserable life.
Ahem! Jake's mental narration cut in. "Don't look at me with those eyes filled with ridicule and contempt. I can feel it, you know! I'm sure you, yes, YOU, the one reading this right now, are no different. Both of us… we're in the same boat, aren't we?"
There was a brief pause in his dying thoughts, a moment of reflection… followed by indignation.
"What? You're not a virgin?!"
His soul practically rattled in disbelief. "Fck you! How dare you read this?! Do you have any idea how it feels to be one of us? Us pitiful, good-looking, drop-dead gorgeous boys—LIKE ME—who've never even had the chance to date a girl?! Oh wait... I did date a girl, but she turned out to be the school's extracurricular activity leader, and I'm the only one who didn't get an invite!"*
Jake's spiritual form clenched its fist in frustration.
"Do you not know our pain? Our suffering? Our endless days spent locked in the bathroom, perfecting one-hand calisthenics with the kind of dedication that would put Olympians to shame?!"
He scoffed internally, his fading soul shaking its metaphorical head. "Tsk, you uncultured swine. What happened to 'Bros before Hoes'? Is nothing sacred anymore?"
The bitterness in his mental rant reached a boiling point. "Shame on you, bro. Shame on you! You scum who betray the brotherhood of lonely kings. I hope… no, I PRAY… that your PP never raises its head again! That's right! I curse you! Let's see how popular you are when you've been dethroned from the majestic kingdom of virility!"
As the last of his consciousness slipped away, Jake managed one final, absurdly petty thought:
"Serves you right, traitor."
And with that, his eyes closed, his soul drifting away… right into the chaos that awaited in the other life and the seen in the HAREM waiting for him.