Opening a video game menu in real life turned out to be significantly harder than Dylan had anticipated.

  He'd been standing in the meadow for what felt like twenty minutes,though his sense of time was unreliable at best right now,trying every possible variation of menu-summoning he could think of.

  "Inventory," he said clearly, holding out one hand like a wizard in a fantasy movie.

  Nothing.

  "Inventory," he tried again with more emphasis, as if volume were the missing ingredient.

  A butterfly fluttered past.

  He switched hands. Maybe the left one was the 'magic button.'

  "Inventory?"

  Still nothing.

  Dylan sighed, his ears drooping in frustration. They really were absurdly expressive. Every emotion seemed to translate directly to ear position without consulting him first. Angry? Ears back. Curious? Ears forward. Confused and slightly embarrassed about talking to himself in an empty field? Apparently, they drooped sideways.

  "Okay," he muttered. "Different approach. Maybe it's gesture-based?"

  He swept his hand through the air dramatically, fingers splayed like he was conducting an invisible orchestra.

  "Menu!"

  Nothing happened.

  He tried a different gesture,both hands this time, pushing forward like he was opening curtains.

  "Interface!"

  The wind rustled. A bird called somewhere. The universe remained thoroughly unimpressed with his performance.

  Dylan tried swiping motions, tapping the air, even doing a little circular gesture he vaguely remembered from some anime. His ears flattened in growing irritation as each attempt produced exactly zero results.

  "UI! Backpack! Satchel! Character sheet! Options! Please?!"

  He was now waving his arms around like he was trying to flag down a rescue helicopter. Which, given his current situation, might not be entirely inappropriate.

  "This is ridiculous," Dylan huffed, dropping his hands. "I get isekai'd into a fantasy world with anime stats and god-tier powers, and I can't even open my BAG?!"

  He stomped his foot in frustration,which, given his new strength, created a small divot in the ground he absolutely hadn't intended.

  "Okay. Okay, calm down. Think." He pressed his palms together, trying to center himself. "In the game, it was just a button press. But here, there are no buttons. No keyboard. No mouse. So how do I..."

  He trailed off, thinking.

  In the game, opening menus had been thoughtless. Muscle memory. Press a button and the interface appeared. But here, there were no buttons. No shortcuts. Just him and whatever rules this world operated under.

  Maybe that was the problem. He was trying to treat this like a game interface,something external, something he manipulated from the outside. But he was in this body now. Part of this world.

  Maybe the interface wasn't something external he needed to summon. Maybe it was something internal he needed to access.

  Dylan closed his eyes.

  Took a breath.

  And instead of demanding the inventory appear, he just... thought about it. Quietly. Calmly. Imagined the familiar grid of items, the weapons and armor and ridiculous amount of consumables he'd hoarded over ten years of gameplay.

  He focused on the intention of having something. Tools. Resources. The comfort of knowing his collected gear was there, accessible, ready.

  Ding.

  Dylan's eyes flew open.

  A tiny golden spark flickered in the air in front of him, about chest height.

  "Yes,YES,"

  The spark fizzled and vanished.

  "No! Come back!" Dylan lunged forward, swiping at the space where it had been. "I was so close!"

  He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. Getting excited had disrupted it somehow. He needed to stay focused. Centered.

  "Alright. One more time. Nice and steady."

  He closed his eyes again. Reached for that quiet intention. Imagined not just the inventory, but the feeling of accessing it,that comfortable familiarity, the certainty that his things were there, waiting.

  Ding.

  The sound was clearer this time, more solid. Dylan kept his eyes closed, maintained his focus, and pulled gently at the sensation.

  Something shifted in the air. He could feel it,a weight, a presence, something materializing in front of him.

  He opened his eyes.

  A glowing window hung in the air, roughly the size of a cafeteria tray, floating at eye level. Translucent golden borders framed a grid of squares, each containing an icon.

  Dylan stared at it for a moment, hardly daring to breathe in case it disappeared.

  Then he reached out tentatively and touched one of the icons,a small potion bottle glowing red.

  Text appeared: Major Healing Potion x999

  "Oh my god," Dylan whispered. "It actually worked. It,"

  The window suddenly expanded.

  Not slowly. Not with a neat animation. It just exploded outward like someone had hit the wrong zoom button, growing to the size of a billboard, then a movie screen, then a drive-in theater screen, filling his entire field of vision with glowing inventory slots.

  "WHOA,NO,STOP!"

  Dylan stumbled backward, arms windmilling, as the massive interface loomed over him like a digital monolith. His foot caught on something, his balance tilted, and he went down hard on his rear with an undignified oof.

  The inventory flickered, wavered, and then,mercifully,shrank back down to a reasonable size.

  Dylan sat in the grass, breathing hard, staring up at the now-normal-sized window floating innocently above him.

  "Okay," he panted. "Note to self: gentle thoughts. Calm intentions. Do not panic-summon the inventory or it becomes a building."

  He climbed to his feet, brushing grass off his tunic, and approached the floating window more carefully this time.

  Now that it was a manageable size, he could actually see what he was working with.

  And oh boy, was there a lot to work with.

  The inventory was organized in neat categories that expanded when he focused on them,weapons, armor, consumables, materials, quest items, miscellaneous. Each category contained dozens, sometimes hundreds of items, all neatly sorted and stacked.

  Dylan scrolled through the weapons section first, and his jaw slowly dropped.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  The Eclipsebound Glaive. Sylphic Dualblades. Celestial Manuscript of All Spells. Weapons he'd spent months obtaining, each one glowing with rarities that ranged from Legendary to Mythic to "this probably shouldn't exist."

  He moved to armor. The Astralweave Combat Regalia gleamed in its slot, along with dozens of alternative sets for different situations. Helmets that boosted magic. Boots that increased movement speed. Accessories that did things like "reflect damage" and "grant immunity to death once per day."

  "Once per day," Dylan muttered. "I have an item that makes me immortal for 24 hours. That's not game-breaking at all."

  The consumables section made him laugh,a slightly manic sound that echoed across the empty meadow. Healing potions stacked to 999. Stat elixirs he'd been "saving for something important." Buff foods that increased every conceivable attribute.

  And then there were the weird items. Things he'd collected for completionism's sake and then forgotten about.

  A Worldshaper's Prism that could terraform entire landscapes. A Shard of Rewritten Fate that granted "one impossible wish." Several items labeled "unique" that he had no memory of obtaining. And, inexplicably, 400 Feast Packs designed to feed a party of twelve.

  He expanded the description on one of the Feast Packs out of curiosity.

  Contents: Roasted meats, bread, cheese, fruit, wine. Serves 12.

  Dylan stared at it.

  "Roasted meats," he read slowly. "Almost all of these are meat-based feast packs."

  He looked down at himself,at his distinctly rabbit-like body,and had a sinking suspicion about his dietary future.

  "I'm probably a vegetarian now, aren't I?" he muttered. "Ten years of hoarding, and I somehow managed to save exclusively the wrong food. That's just my luck."

  He scrolled further and found the gardening supplies he'd collected during one of the game's farming events. Seeds for every vegetable imaginable, plus some that looked distinctly magical. Glowing carrots. Rainbow tomatoes. Something called "Moonbeans" that supposedly grew overnight.

  "Well," Dylan said, "at least I won't starve. Assuming I can figure out how to plant these. And assuming they work the same way here as they did in the game. And assuming I'm staying long enough to need a garden, which,"

  He cut himself off. That line of thinking led to questions he wasn't ready to answer.

  Instead, he focused on the gold counter at the bottom of the inventory screen.

  Gold: 847,294,563

  Dylan blinked at it.

  Then blinked again.

  "Eight hundred forty-seven million," he said faintly. "I have nearly a billion gold. That's... that's 'buy a kingdom and have change left over' money. That's 'personally destabilize multiple economies' money."

  He'd earned it legitimately,thousands of hours of quests, dungeon runs, selling rare drops. But seeing it displayed as an actual number, in a world where it might represent real purchasing power, was deeply surreal.

  "Okay," he said, taking a breath. "Okay, financial security: check. Overpowered equipment: check. Enough consumables to survive an apocalypse: check. This is... this is actually really good. I can work with this."

  He paused.

  "Assuming I can figure out how to use any of it."

  The thought was sobering. Having godlike equipment was one thing. Actually wielding it,in a real body, with real consequences,was entirely different.

  But that was a problem for later. Right now, he needed to understand his baseline capabilities.

  "Status," Dylan said, focusing on the intention like he had with the inventory.

  The inventory window minimized to a small icon in the corner of his vision,which was incredibly convenient and also mildly unsettling,and was replaced by a new panel.

  CHARACTER STATUS

  The header appeared first, clean and professional, like a resume for someone whose job was "be powerful and confusing."

  Then the first line materialized beneath it:

  Name: Lyria

  Dylan froze.

  "Lyria?" he said aloud. "Not Lyriana? Not even Lyriana Moonshadow?"

  He'd liked the full name. It had weight. Drama. A certain poetic quality that "Lyria" didn't quite capture.

  But the screen didn't offer a rename option. It just sat there, unhelpfully permanent.

  "Great," Dylan muttered. "The universe couldn't even give me my full name. That's just rude."

  The next line appeared:

  Species: Rabbitfolk (Tall Variant)

  Well, that tracked. He looked down at himself,at the long legs, the graceful build, the ears that were currently twitching with irritation.

  Gender: Female (Pending Acceptance)

  Dylan's stomach did a complicated flip.

  "Pending acceptance," he read quietly. "As in... I haven't accepted it yet?"

  The words sat there, neutral and non-judgmental, but they felt heavy. Loaded with implications he absolutely did not want to think about right now.

  Because the thing was... the body felt right. Moving in it felt natural. Looking at his reflection hadn't triggered the disgust or disconnect he'd always assumed you were supposed to feel if you woke up in the wrong body.

  If anything, he'd felt relief.

  Which raised questions. Big, complicated, identity-shaking questions that Dylan had spent thirty years not asking himself.

  "Nope," he said aloud, firmly. "We're not doing this. We're absolutely not doing this right now."

  He focused on the next line instead:

  Level: ∞

  "Infinity," Dylan said flatly. "My level is the infinity symbol. That's not even a number. That's just the game giving up on math."

  More lines appeared:

  Class: Omni-classed (All Paths Mastered)

  HP: ████████ (Maxed)

  MP: ████████ (Maxed)

  Strength: ████ (Maxed)

  Agility: ████ (Maxed)

  Intelligence: ████ (Maxed)

  Wisdom: ████ (Maxed)

  Charisma: ████ (Maxed)

  Luck: 10

  Dylan stared at the last stat.

  "Ten," he said. "Every single stat is maxed out to the point where the system can't even display the numbers properly, and my Luck is ten. Just... ten. Regular ten."

  He thought about his life up until yesterday. The job losses. The failed relationships. The constant sense that the universe was rolling dice against him.

  "Yeah," he muttered. "That tracks, actually."

  Another line appeared, this one faintly pulsing:

  [New Title Acquired: The Displaced]

  Effect: Immune to existential despair. +5 to improvisation. "You've been through weirder."

  Dylan snorted despite himself. "The system has jokes now. Fantastic."

  One final line appeared at the bottom of the status screen, barely visible, almost shy:

  [Notice: Physical form alignment at 23%. Mental acceptance required for completion.]

  Dylan stared at it.

  "Alignment?" he whispered. "Mental acceptance required?"

  A warmth flickered in his chest,not painful, not invasive, just... present. Like the system was gently tapping him on the shoulder, trying to tell him something important.

  For a moment,just a brief, terrifying moment,Dylan understood what it was saying.

  This body wasn't random. It wasn't a punishment or a cosmic accident. It was what he'd wanted. What some part of him, buried under years of resignation and avoidance, had been quietly yearning for.

  The power. The grace. The freedom of not being trapped in a form that felt like it was slowly suffocating him.

  The chance to be someone else.

  Or maybe... the chance to finally be himself.

  "No," Dylan said, louder than necessary. His ears flattened. "Absolutely not. We are not unpacking that. That is staying packed. Sealed. Locked in a vault and thrown into the ocean."

  He swiped the status screen closed with more force than required.

  It dissolved into motes of light that scattered on the breeze, leaving him alone with his thoughts and his traitorous, too-comfortable body.

  Dylan stood there for a moment, breathing carefully, trying to rebuild the mental walls that kept complicated feelings at a safe distance.

  "Okay," he said eventually. "Food. Shelter. Survival. Those are the priorities. Everything else is..." He waved vaguely. "Future problems. Distant future problems. Possibly never problems."

  His stomach chose that moment to growl,a surprisingly loud sound that made his ears swivel in alarm.

  "Right," Dylan said. "Food first. Then I'll worry about the slow-dawning realization that I might be having some kind of gender revelation in the middle of a fantasy world."

  He paused.

  "Actually, let's not worry about that at all. Let's just... find some vegetables and pretend that everything is normal and fine."

  His reflection caught his eye in the pond again,tall, beautiful, undeniably feminine, with drooping ears that suggested his poker face needed work.

  "Totally normal," he told the reflection. "Completely fine."

  The reflection looked deeply unconvinced.

  Dylan turned away from the pond and scanned the horizon. In the distance, maybe a mile or two away, he could see signs of civilization,smoke rising from chimneys, the suggestion of buildings clustered together, the kind of medieval-fantasy-town aesthetic that Eternal Realms Online had been lousy with.

  A town meant food. Possibly answers. Definitely a chance to test whether his absurd fortune actually worked as currency here.

  It also meant people.

  People who would look at him and see Lyriana,or Lyria, apparently. A tall, beautiful rabbitfolk woman with divine-tier equipment and an aura of power that was probably visible from space.

  Subtle, he was not.

  "Okay," Dylan said, pulling up his inventory again,carefully, gently, so it didn't try to become a building again. "Let's see what I can do about that."

  He scrolled through his armor collection until he found what he was looking for: the Traveler's Cloak of Mundanity.

  A rare-quality item, which in a collection of mostly legendaries made it almost quaint. He'd picked it up during some stealth quest and kept it because the description had made him laugh:

  Traveler's Cloak of Mundanity Makes the wearer appear "normal" by local standards. Hides magical aura. Conceals equipment. Perfect for when you're catastrophically overpowered but don't want the attention.

  Note: Does not hide rabbit ears effectively. We tried.

  Dylan equipped it with a thought.

  His simple white tunic and dark leggings disappeared beneath a hooded brown cloak that wrapped itself around him, a deeply uncomfortable process that felt like someone was carefully layering clothes onto him without actually touching him.

  The hood fell forward, shadowing his face and covering most of his too-distinctive hair. His ears poked out the top, but at least they were partially concealed.

  He checked his reflection in the pond.

  Much better. Less "divine warrior princess," more "shady traveler who might sell you questionable potions behind the tavern."

  "Perfect," Dylan said. "Now I just need to walk into town, buy some food without accidentally revealing that I'm a walking cheat code, and absolutely not think about gender or identity or any of the other emotional landmines I'm carefully stepping around."

  He started walking toward the distant town, his new legs carrying him with effortless grace.

  "This is fine," he muttered to himself. "Everything is completely fine. Just a normal day in a fantasy world, living in a body that isn't mine but somehow feels more right than the one I had, trying not to examine that too closely."

  His ears drooped.

  "I'm doomed," Dylan said. "I am absolutely, completely doomed."

  But he kept walking anyway.

  Because whatever else was true,whatever complicated feelings were waiting to ambush him later,he was alive. He was powerful. He had all the gold and an inventory full of legendary weapons.

  And he was hungry.

  Everything else could wait.

  Probably.

  He was definitely doomed.