Chapter 1

They say dying is supposed to be dramatic. You know... your life flashing before your eyes, some tunnel of light, maybe even a tearful last thought about loved ones.

Me? I just blacked out mid-sentence, staring at a monitor filled with error messages and broken supply chain algorithms. The cursor blinked mockingly at me, as if it knew something I didn't.

When I came to, everything was fundamentally... wrong.

My back ached with the deep, throbbing pain of someone who'd slept on concrete. My knees were digging into cold, hard stone that seemed to leach the warmth from my bones. The air carried the heavy scent of incense mixed with something metallic and sharp, like iron left to rust in the rain. My first thought wasn't panic. It wasn't even fear.

It was, "Goddammit, I fell asleep at my desk again, didn't I?"

But when I opened my eyes fully, blinking away the haze of unconsciousness, I wasn't in my cluttered apartment with its towers of takeout containers and empty coffee cups.

There were robed people standing in a perfect circle around me, their faces hidden in shadow beneath deep hoods. They muttered in some ancient tongue that sounded like a cross between Latin and someone gargling marbles underwater. Glowing symbols covered the floor beneath me, pulsing with an otherworldly light that made my skin tingle. Candles flickered everywhere, their flames dancing in the stagnant air and casting writhing shadows on the stone walls.

Oh, fantastic. I'd somehow landed inside a live-action roleplay for wizards with too much time on their hands.

Before I could even groan, one of them stepped forward with deliberate, ceremonial steps. An old man with a beard so long it practically swept the floor, holding a staff that screamed "overcompensation" in every ornate curve and glowing crystal. His voice echoed through the hall like thunder rolling across mountains.

"Sage of Systems, summoned from beyond the veil! Heed our call! Save our kingdom from its ruinous fate!"

I stared at him. Blinked once, slowly.

Then I deadpanned, "I have work tomorrow. Send me back."

They froze as if I'd just announced the apocalypse.

Whispers erupted around me like autumn leaves in a windstorm.

"Is the Sage... rejecting the call?"

"Did we mispronounce the incantation?"

"Perhaps he cannot understand us."

Oh, I understood them just fine. They were speaking perfect Japanese, somehow, the words flowing into my mind as naturally as breathing. Probably magic, because apparently that was a thing now.

I sighed, rubbing my temples where a headache was already blooming.

"I understand you. I just don't care."

More gasps. One of them actually fainted, crumpling to the ground in a heap of robes.
Great. Not only was I trapped in a kingdom full of theatrical weirdos, but I'd apparently been summoned to solve their problems. Lucky me.

I had no idea how to get back. No idea how any of this worked. But I did know one thing with absolute certainty.

This was going to suck.

I was still sitting on the floor, completely unimpressed by the whole mystical summoning experience, when the bearded old man finally found his voice again.

"You... you truly understand us, Sage?"

"Unfortunately," I muttered, stretching my aching legs.

He straightened, staff thumping against the ground like it made him more important. The sound echoed through the chamber with hollow authority.

"Then surely you comprehend the gravity of this summoning. You were chosen by the Ritual of the Sage... a forbidden art reserved for times of greatest peril!"

Forbidden, huh? I couldn't help it. I snorted, the sound sharp and derisive in the solemn atmosphere.

"You dragged me out of my world with forbidden magic because you screwed up so badly you needed outside help? That's what you're telling me?"

The robed figures looked horrified, as if I'd just blasphemed in their sacred temple. But the old man nodded solemnly, his weathered face grave.

"Our kingdom stands on the brink of ruin. Famine spreads like wildfire across the land. Monsters breach the outer territories with increasing frequency. The noble houses bicker and scheme while our protective wards collapse around us. Only a Sage from beyond... the Sage of Systems... can unravel this crisis."

I stared at him for a long moment, processing the absurdity of it all.

Then I asked, dead serious, "Did you just kidnap me to fix your paperwork?"
Several of the mages actually flinched as if I'd struck them.

I wasn't joking. Systems? Famine? Defense wards? This sounded less like "save the world with holy magic" and more like "please do our math homework before we all die."

The more I thought about it, the more it made sense in the worst possible way. Supply chain problems causing famine. Resource allocation issues leading to defense failures. Political inefficiency hampering crisis response.

"Unbelievable..." I muttered. "You want me to solve your logistics problems?"
The old man's face lit up like I'd just revealed some divine truth, his eyes sparkling with desperate hope.

"Yes! Precisely! You grasp it so swiftly, Sage!"
I sighed and rubbed my temples harder, feeling the weight of their expectations settling on my shoulders like a lead blanket. This had to be a nightmare. Or a coma dream. Or maybe death was just this stupid and bureaucratic.

"Listen carefully," I said, locking eyes with him. "I am not your savior. I'm not your messiah. I'm not even good with people. I just want to go back home to my crappy apartment and my broken code and my instant ramen."

Silence stretched between us like a held breath.

Then the old man whispered, voice low and regretful, "We... do not possess the means to return you."

My stomach dropped into my shoes.

"You're joking."

"I speak only the truth. The summoning ritual is ancient... we know not how to reverse it. The old records say that only by fulfilling the role of the Sage can one find the path home."
I stared at him. He sounded so certain, so utterly convinced that this was just how things worked.

Complete the role. Fix their kingdom. Then maybe, just maybe, I could go home.
I almost laughed at the sheer absurdity of it.

Instead, I said, "Let me get this straight. You dragged me here against my will, dumped your entire kingdom's mess on my head, and now you're telling me the only way I get to leave... is if I clean up after you?"

He nodded with the solemnity of a funeral director.

I took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and calmly said, "I hate this place already."

They looked like I'd just stabbed them in the heart with a rusty spoon.

Honestly? I didn't care.

The robed man, apparently their head mage or whatever title they gave to people who ruined other people's lives, opened his mouth. Probably to start some long-winded speech about duty and destiny and the sacred responsibility of the chosen one.

But I cut him off.

"First things first," I said, holding up a hand. "I'm starving. I don't know how long I've been unconscious, and I'm not making decisions on an empty stomach."

A few of them blinked, as if it hadn't occurred to them that the world's supposed savior needed to eat actual food.

"Also," I added, looking down at myself. My clothes were still my rumpled hoodie and sweatpants, slightly scorched from the ritual, maybe. "If you're going to parade me around, I'm going to need a change of clothes. Preferably ones that don't look like I'm a sleep-deprived university student who fell into a bonfire."

A younger mage, probably an apprentice judging by his nervous energy, scrambled away to handle that.

The old man nodded slowly, like I was speaking in tongues or revealing ancient wisdom.
"Of... of course. The Sage's comfort is paramount. We shall arrange food and garments at once."

"Good," I muttered. "Because right now? Fixing your kingdom is at the very bottom of my to-do list."

---------------------------------------------------

They had stuffed me into some overly fancy guest room at the palace, a room bigger than my entire apartment back home. Velvet cushions in deep burgundy. Silk curtains that probably cost more than my monthly rent. A bed so soft it swallowed me like quicksand, threatening to drown me in luxury I'd never asked for.

Dinner was served on actual silver plates by nervous servants who looked like they expected me to spontaneously combust or start performing miracles. I ate in silence, savoring each bite while my mind raced.

The food? Actually decent. Roasted meat with herbs I couldn't identify, vegetables that tasted like they'd been grown in soil that had never seen pesticides, bread still warm from the oven.
The clothes they brought? A little too "royal court" for my taste. Flowing robes with embroidered sigils that probably meant something important, but at least they weren't itchy. The fabric was soft and well-made, clearly expensive.

After eating, I spent the next hour poking around the room, testing for escape routes like a caged animal.

Windows sealed tight. No secret passageways hidden behind tapestries. No convenient portal rings lying around for interdimensional travel.

Great. No obvious way out.

I stared up at the ornate ceiling, mind racing with every impossible variable. The painted scenes above me depicted heroes of old, probably previous "sages" who'd saved the kingdom and presumably found their way home.

Summoned by ritual. No known way back. Solve their problems to maybe escape.

It sounded ridiculous, but it also sounded like a system. Systems meant inputs and outputs. Processes. Patterns. Variables that could be manipulated and optimized.

I could work with that.

Didn't mean I had to like it.

But as I lay there in that absurdly comfortable bed, staring at painted heroes who'd probably never complained about being kidnapped, I realized something.

I was going to have to play their game. At least until I figured out how to change the rules.
The thought should have terrified me. Instead, I felt something unexpected stirring in my chest.

Curiosity.