Goddammit!
I woke up late again. Today of all days—my graduation day. The last day of my life as a student with a degree in entrepreneurship, and I'm running behind. I bolt out of bed, groggy and disoriented, and head straight for the shower. Too cold, of course, but no time to complain. It's my graduation; I have to suck it up.
My parents are already at the venue, according to my phone—along with dozens of missed calls and texts. My heart sinks as I realize just how late I am. I rush through breakfast, shoving a piece of toast in my mouth while nearly causing my own demise. The knife holder on the counter wobbles dangerously, teetering over my head, but by some miracle, it doesn't fall.
Finally, I sprint out the door, heading for the subway. I think I broke a personal record as I made it onto the train just before the doors closed. Five minutes later, I'm at the venue—thankfully the subway is just meters away.
"Two hours late!" my mom yells as I find her in the crowd. I mutter an apology, blaming my alarm clock for the catastrophe. It's our class's turn now, and I hastily line up to take the stage. My classmates ask why I'm late. I shrug and simply say, "alarm clock."
My moment arrives. The stage is mine. I'm handed the diploma envelope, but when I open it—surprise—it's empty. The actual diploma will be sent later. Anti-climactic doesn't even begin to cover it.
Finally!! I groan as I collapse on my bed after the long day. My parents are still disappointed, their words, "we'll celebrate later," echoing in a tone that stings. I understand, though. I was late to my own graduation.
Just as I start to unwind, my phone rings. It's Jane, one of my classmates, inviting me to the graduation party. Of course, I agree and head to the address she sent.
Walking to the station, I notice something barreling towards me. It happens so fast—I'm hit and thrown 23 meters down the street. I'm on the ground, bleeding. People start to gather around me, staring. I'm fading, my thoughts racing. "Is this really it? Just after graduation? Seriously?"
Then it hits me—what even hit me? It wasn't a car or a truck. No, it was...a cow. A rogue cow, loose from the zoo, charging through the streets, running from a frantic zookeeper.
As the world goes dark, I manage to mumble my last words: "G-God Dammit."
Suddenly, I wake up. I'm lying under an apple tree in the middle of nowhere. "Is this heaven?" I wonder. But no, I think. I've definitely sinned too much for that.
Just then, a wooden caravan, like something out of an old movie, rolls by. I wave it down and ask the merchant driving it, "Where am I?"
The merchant looks at me strangely and says, "You're in Gölberg, sir. Just outside the city of Isselburg."
"Which country is this?" I ask, confused.
"You're in Yolhalm, sir," he replies.
Yolhalm? Where the hell is that? Before I can process, he offers me a ride, and I accept, climbing into the caravan. Inside, I notice more caravans in the convoy—and a knight. A real knight in armor.
"Am I hallucinating?" I ask the merchant. "What's a knight doing here?"
"He's on duty," the merchant replies casually. "Knights keep the main road safe from bandits and monsters."
"Bandits? Monsters?" I mutter, the absurdity of it all sinking in. "Wait… did I just get reincarnated?"
Reincarnation is real?!