Prologue

I'm very angry about how I died.

I wasn't run over by a truck like the other transmigrators, nor was I struck by lightning or lost consciousness while filling out a mysterious online survey.

Damn, that would have been a luxury compared to what happened to me.

My death was the result of a prank by a wicked woman who enjoys entertaining her millions of followers live.

How wicked was she?

So wicked that she gave cream cookies to a homeless person to satisfy his hunger, but secretly replaced the cream inside with toothpaste.

So wicked that she made a video of the hopeful reactions of animals in a shelter, making them believe they were about to be adopted, only to leave while mercilessly mocking them.

So wicked that when she saw a six-year-old blind girl begging, she threw a bottle cap so that the girl would think it was a coin and accepted the girl's grateful gesture with an arrogant face while suppressing her laughter.

People like her and her followers show just how messed up society is.

She was undoubtedly one of the worst kinds of human scum at all levels, and I was extremely unhappy to die because of her.

Is there anything worse than that?

Yes, that your transmigration along with the wishes you made after dying goes wrong due to a bureaucratic error.

I asked to go to a peaceful world where people like her didn't exist and for some simple skills to make a living without drawing too much attention.

Maybe I would have a second life that many would consider mediocre, but it would be a relaxed and happy life.

But when I woke up, I realized that everything was wrong.

My body wasn't a younger version of myself.

My skills weren't the ones I asked for.

And more importantly, the world where I ended up was anything but peaceful.