Ren Yamaguchi (1/2)

He slammed the door behind him, frustrated. Then he began walking away from the house—zipping his jacket, pulling his hood up, hands shoved in his pockets. He didn’t know where he wanted to go; he just decided to wander aimlessly, thinking angrily to himself.

“What the hell does she know? It’s not my fault I ended up like this. It’s her fault. If I had a kid, I wouldn’t shower him with empty praise—praises that would only make him feel worse for not meeting my expectations. What’s the point of doing anything for yourself when everything is predetermined? Expectations of who you should be. Goals you don’t even want. Societal ideals that only worsen your puppet‑like existence.”

He vented his frustrations aloud as he walked.

“What’s the point of being a parent if all you want is to push your child down the path you choose, and when they don’t follow, you just give up? No comfort, just confrontation. ‘You can’t live comfortably without education. There’s no point in keeping you around if you’re useless.’”

“You don’t even have a life if you’re just working toward retirement until death! This entire world—there’s no place to safely escape your problems without doing something. You either need money, family, luck—or all of the above—to be comfortable. Otherwise, you’re just some lost animal struggling to survive. It’s the conflict between the domestic and the wild. Your whole life: you’re fed, sheltered, and told what to do—until you mess up and get kicked out into the wild with nothing but scraps. The moment you bark back at their commands, they don’t want you anymore and toss you out…”

Before he knew it, he had reached the city—Japan’s development showcased in colorful, cute billboards, masking the cynicism etched on everyone’s faces. He met their eyes with disdain.

They say you have three faces: the first is shown to the world, the second to close friends and family, and the third is your true self—in every sense.

But you’re never really yourself. You’re always someone else. You hide behind façades, and eventually forget who you are—until you’re alone.

When you're alone, you reflect on everything you’ve done and left undone. Your deepest regrets and frustrations aren’t really yours—they feel foreign. Your “You” is what everyone sees, until death gives you freedom to truly be.

This isn’t just true for the Japanese—it applies to everyone. If someone claims they’re not lying because they don’t stay true to themselves, they’re lying to the biggest person possible: themselves.

When you isolate yourself, the hidden “You” remains—filled with years of pain. It turns to self-hatred, judgment, bitterness. The pain shifts and scars, but never heals.

『That’s why…』

He wandered into the street without noticing the walk signal was red. People called out, but didn’t rush to help.

“That’s why, if I were in another world, I wouldn’t have regrets. I’d stay true to myself so I wouldn’t be burdened by stupid second thoughts. A guy with the same problems as everyone else, a guy with the same faces as everyone else.”

BEEP BEEP!

“Huh—”

Ren snapped his head up as the headlights of a semi-truck rushed toward him. He couldn’t move fast enough—but then everything froze.

People gasped and covered their faces. The truck halted. Even Ren stood still.

『Everything around him turned black and white, and objects dissolved into words and descriptions.』

『Then he saw words emerging from the horizon.』

“What is this? What the hell is happening?” he wondered.

“How does it know what I was saying?!”

『Words streamed at him, invading his vision, overwhelming him. Ren regained movement and covered his ears, desperate to block the sensory onslaught.』

『As the words continued whispering into his mind—he opened his eyes. They described everything: his thoughts, his speech, even his actions was a written script.』

“S-Shut up! Stop it!”

『His anguished pleas echoed back.』

『He opened his right eye and saw moments from his life: reading in his room, arguing with his mom, walking and thinking.』

『Everything had already been written—planned, boiled down into meaningless words.』

《It’s surprising you can see the Script, but it clarifies things, doesn’t it? You want to live in another world? I suppose I can change the script this once for you, Ren Yamaguchi. That could make an interesting story, don’t you think?》

『Even that was conveyed in words he could understand—through this maddening experience.』

『From the endless horizon, a world formed until vision and senses returned.』

He found himself beneath a vibrant blue sky, surrounded by lush green trees, standing on a straight cobblestone road. He shifted his gaze—and his head turned to the left.

A horse’s huge nose was right in his face, its breath tossing his hair and knocking off his hood.

It wasn’t just any horse—this one was hitched to a wagon, guided by a man wearing medieval-style tunic and pants. The most striking feature was his strong, square jaw as he spoke in a loud voice.

“Huh?!”

The ringing in Ren’s ears faded, and he could hear the man clearly.

“What do you mean ‘Huh’?! Get out of the road before I run you over with my wagon, boy! What’re you, some kind of nutcase?” the man snarled.

Ren stepped aside and the man muttered, “Dang kids, always in the way… Weird clothes…”

A cliché line everyone’s heard at least once—an older person complaining about youngsters. Ren watched the wagon roll away, then took in his surroundings.

It wasn’t just beautiful; the air was cleaner, the light brighter—so vivid it hurt his retinas. He pulled his hood back over his head before just standing there with a shaking body.

‘I’ve been summoned to another world by God as punishment… I didn’t really mean that I wanted another world! I’m sorry for my pessimistic outlook on life! Please, take me back!’

《End Part one of Chapter One》

Notes from the Author: “Hello! It’s heavy in monologue and pointless philosophy, but it’s currently early in the morning and I haven’t slept yet, so it’s sloppy work and I apologize for that. I know the whole transition and final part don’t fit Ren’s character in my opinion. I promise to get better at not going on and on about philosophy. It gets rid of the readers, right? I cut this short because of two things: time and my tendency of not planning ahead of time. I promise to make the next part worth reading. Be easy with me (ㅠ︿ㅠ). So if you have any type of advice, I’d love to hear so I can get better 

（‪‪￣▽￣) That’s enough of me though. I wanted to reach my 1,000 words mark.”