I was a failed writer. And now? I’m stuck in the most cliché genre of fiction ever. The ultimate trash tier, Isekai. How did this even happen? Did I commit some cardinal sin? Am I cursed? Dumped into another world as punishment? Give me one logical reason!


    No… I need to think like an author. If I were writing this story, what would come next? A random monster attacks? Or maybe the sudden appearance of a beautiful heroine who’s way out of my league? It’s impossible to predict because the plot is garbage from the start. Starting with the main character choice, it’s completely wrong. Me. A failed writer. What’s the point of this? Do you expect me to accomplish something? I can’t even string words together properly, and now I’m supposed to be the hero?


    What kind of rotten author would create a mess like this? Honestly, they’re worse than me. That’s assuming there is someone orchestrating all of this. Or am I just unlucky? Did I accidentally stumble into an isekai without meaning to? I mean, I’m not the first person this has happened to, right? Some best-selling novels use this exact trope. Still, I hope there isn’t some creepy and powerful ancient witch hiding in the shadows. Kidnapping people and giving them absurd powers like coming back after death. Though, let’s be honest. That’s actually kind of cool. But I already know enough after reading the novel. It didn''t end too well.


    Then again, what if this really is just a dream? It still feels possible. Except… I can’t control anything here. Shouldn’t lucid dreams let you take charge? No… I’ll test it soon enough. I just need to wait for myself to wake up. Because if this is a dream, then eventually, it’ll end. It has to.


    Beside me, Poma was still waiting for my response. She looked at me with a faint smile, clearly pleased by my reaction. But it wasn’t easy to meet her gaze directly.


    Her thin clothes were… distracting. Too distracting. The longer I stared, the more my thoughts wandered off in directions they probably shouldn’t. Maybe I should just say it—it’d be easier if she changed. After all, she’s a goddess. Or so she claims.


    “Can you change your clothes? That’s a bit… distracting,” I said, trying to keep my tone casual but failing miserably.


    Poma didn’t miss a beat. Her lips twitched as she held back laughter. Both hands moved to adjust her outfit, brushing over her stomach and chest like she was deliberately making things worse.


    "Is there something wrong? Isn''t this your dream? You can do it yourself, right?" she teased, her voice dripping with playful mockery.


    Great. Now she’s messing with me. If I could, maybe I would. But at least I want to keep my manners. Regardless of whether this is a dream or not. Failed writer or not. I’m no creep.


    So, I gave in, “You''re right, this isn''t a dream. Please change your clothes. You''re a goddess, aren''t you? Please maintain your dignity.”


    After hearing my words, Poma pulled something from beside her—a white robe that seemed to materialize out of thin air. She slipped it on slowly, almost theatrically, before speaking again.


    “I understand. But the current me is nothing more than a forest guardian. Calling me a goddess makes me sound pathetic,” she said, her tone softening, though there was still a hint of amusement behind it.


    It turns out. A goddess. Or at least someone who used to be one. Yet, we share something that relatable. A pathetic life. This world is sometimes unpredictable. A plot twist you could say?


    “What should I do now? I didn’t think I’d end up living here with you, did I?” I asked. Because there is a possibility that this is not a dream. I''d better start thinking carefully about the future.


    Poma just smiled at my question. “I’d be happy if you stayed here with me. But in a few days, people will come to make offerings. You can leave with them then, or you can stay here. It’s up to you.”


    A few days? That means I need to figure out food, drinks, and… clothes. I don’t even have any of those. No money either. Assuming money even exists here. Huh. Turns out getting isekai’d requires more preparation than I thought. At least I’ve got a place to stay for now.


    “What about food and drinks? I’m not familiar with this world,” I said, cutting straight to the point.


    This was my priority. It’s another world, after all. There must be fundamental differences. From plants, animals, everything. That explains the strange creatures and glowing plants I saw earlier.


    “Oh, for that, you can eat some of the offerings left for me. Most are fruits from this forest, safe to eat. For water, there’s a river not far from here. But you’ll need Enyeka, she knows the way, so you won’t get lost,” she explained.


    Okay, so food and water are sorted at least for now. The next problem is clothing. Nights here might get cold. How cold? I don’t know yet. But I’ll have to deal with it sooner or later. Let''s hope it''s not as cold as a December night.


    That was my conversation with Poma. Afterward, she mentioned she needed to rest—using her physical form seemed to drain her strength. I could see why she felt uneasy being called a goddess. Aside from her appearance, there wasn’t much that stood out.


    Sure, by normal standards for a goddess, she was… underwhelming. She even admitted her current power is extremely limited. And living in this ruined temple? It told me everything I needed to know. She wasn’t some almighty deity anymore—if she ever was. More like a fallen goddess. Forgotten by time, abandoned by most, remembered only by a handful of people.


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Maybe fate brought us together. Two people sharing the same trash-tier luck. Honestly, it’s not the worst thing. At least she’s not liked that water goddess who’s useless unless you need someone to fight undead.


    Before ending our talk, Poma gave me some information about this world. Apparently, there used to be dragons and giants. But most of them are gone now, or at least they’ve left this continent. Good news, honestly. Can you imagine a world packed with magical races and crazy strong magic? It’d be like living in a place where every petty argument could escalate into an apocalypse.


    Giant casually wiping out entire villages because someone looked at them wrong. Dwarves hoarding not just gold but weapons of mass destruction, ready to bury kingdoms under mountains of rubble. And dragons? They’d burn down cities for fun, then reset time to do it all over again without consequences. No thanks. I’ll take boring and safe over “epic” and suicidal any day.


    She also said there’s no magic here—or at least, not in the way I imagined. Instead, there’s something called “mystical knowledge.” She offered to teach me if I wanted. Of course, I refused. Why go looking for trouble when I’m already neck-deep in it? Especially not if it has too much mystery in it.


    Lastly, she mentioned she still has one blessed person. Through them, she can help me leave the forest if I choose to go. Honestly, staying in the middle of nowhere isn’t exactly my dream lifestyle. But curiosity is starting to creep up on me. I want to know more about this world. At the same time, though, fear keeps tugging at the back of my mind.


    I’m just a normal human. A failed writer with zero talent. If I had any kind of plot armor, I wouldn’t have been failing so hard from the start, right? Yeah… something tells me endless bad luck is waiting around every corner.


    Because Poma is now gone, like a ghost. It’s just me and Enyeka here. The first thing I did was try the fruits beside the altar. They came in different shapes, round to oval.But I only sampled a few. I needed to save what little food there was.


    And then it happened. I found a fruit that wasn’t just sour—it was SALTY. Yeah, salty. Like someone sprinkled salt into it. It was round, grape-sized but slightly bigger. And its insides were watery. I almost spat it out. If anything, this thing deserved to be called liquid salt more than fruit. Luckily, not all the fruits were as bizarre. Most were bland, though one looked like a chili but turned out sweet. This made me question everything I thought I knew about fruits.


    The sky began to turn yellow. Darkness was creeping in. Before it got too late, I decided to find water. Poma had mentioned a river not far from the temple, but I didn’t have a bottle or anything to carry it in. That’s when I remembered the clay pot I’d found earlier while exploring the ruins around the temple.


    Because I was bored this afternoon I went around the ruins and there were many interesting things inside. One of them was this pot and there was an ancient silver coin with a picture of a person engraved on it. Well, it wasn''t in vain because now I could get a drink and Enyeka could take me to the river.


    Who would’ve thought Enyeka could understand human speech? Poma must’ve trained her well. Still, I sensed she wasn’t thrilled about sharing her food. The fruits on the altar were probably hers to begin with, and now she had to split them with me. Tough luck for her, I guess. I noticed her irritated expression as she walked ahead of me. Poma said the river wasn’t far, but it felt like we’d been walking for almost 20 minutes, and we still hadn’t arrived.


    “Hey, Enyeka. Is it still far? It’s getting dark now.” I asked.


    Of course, I knew she couldn’t reply, but I needed some kind of reassurance. If I’d known it would take this long. I would’ve prioritized getting water earlier. My throat was starting to feel dry. Though I could still hold out a little longer.


    She only snorted softly and picked up her pace. Soon, I began to hear the faint sound of flowing water. Through the trees and thick bushes, I finally saw it—a fresh, clear river. The water was so clean it looked surreal, almost like transparent glass.


    I knelt down and started cleaning the clay pot I’d brought. Who knows how old it was? Better safe than sorry. I didn''t want my stomach to hurt from drinking from a dirty water container. I threw away the contents of the pot, which were mostly dust and rocks. I did it several times until I felt the pot was clean. Then I filled it with water.


    The water felt cold. So did the air. As I waited for the pot to fill, something caught my attention—something wrong. I couldn’t see my reflection in the water. At first, I thought it was a trick of the light or my tired eyes playing games. I rubbed them hard, blinked a few times. But nothing changed. No reflection. Nothing at all.


    Is this proof that this world is just a dream? Or is there something else going on? I tried to push the thought away, to stay calm. But my heartbeat feels faster and faster.


    Once the pot was full, I stood up quickly, scanning the area. Enyeka was gone. She had been right beside me moments ago, drinking from the river. Did she leave? No… Poma told her to help me. Why would she abandon me now? Was it because I ate the fruit meant for her? This silence felt unnatural. Too sudden. Too strange.


    Damn it. My bad luck strikes again. I could still vaguely remember the way back to the temple, but with night falling, everything around me grew darker. Shadows stretched unnaturally long, swallowing the trees and bushes whole. One wrong step, and I’d be lost forever. Why now? Of all times, why does this have to happen now?


    The darkness pressed in around me, heavy and suffocating. The forest seemed alive, watching, waiting. I stood by the river, clutching the pot tightly, hoping Enyeka would return. But no one came. Just me. Alone. In the deepening gloom.


    And then I saw it. Across the river, behind the trees. Something stood there, staring at me. Its eyes glowed red. Piercing through the shadows like embers burning in the dark. It didn’t move at first, just watched. Then, slowly, deliberately, it began to approach.


    My breath hitched. Every muscle in my body screamed to run. “Something is wrong here!” I shouted, my voice cracking under the weight of fear. I turned and bolted, leaving the river behind. Clutching the pot so tightly my knuckles turned white.


    Then I heard it... "AHHHHAAHHHHH..." A non-stop screaming.


    Something behind me. Something chasing me. Something... wants me…


    I have to run. As far away as I can. As fast as I can. As strong as I can. Or... It will get me…


    Again… Scream… Loud… "AHHHHAAHHHHHAHHHHHAHHHHHAHHHHH….”


    I ran… Away... My feet… Hurt… My ears... Pierced... Loud screams…


    I can''t see... Everything went dark... Surrounded… Endless Darkness…


    My head is spinning... It hurts... Stop... Stop...


    The pot fell… As did I…


    Like a dream… Unreal…


    When will I wake up? Please wake me up...


    Ahh… The trees are bleeding... Red... Blood... No… Stop…


    The smell of blood... Piercing my nose...


    My body... Rusted... Rotting... Like a corpse...


    This land... Full of blood... Red... Rotting...


    Something... From my stomach... Moving...


    My throat... Something wants to come out...


    "Rrrrippp..."


    “"Wssh..."


    A hand... Came out... From my mouth...


    It moves... Alive... While...


    My mind... Slowly... Rotting... Dead…