A Doomed Side Character? Really?

“Are you hungry, my lord?” A crisp and cultured voice cuts through the dark haze of sleep. Groggily, I open my sleep crusted eyes, blinking rapidly 2as my bleary vision is assailed by a bright light. I open my mouth to say something I don’t know what, but all that comes out is a dry rasp from a throat that feels like sandpaper. Immediately a soft hand lifts my head up from my pillow as another brings a wooden jug to my lips. 

“Here, drink this.” the voice says again, this time with an undercurrent of concern. I allow my lips to fall open. The cool water that falls into my mouth feels like heaven to my throat. As the pitcher is pulled away, I inhale deeply. My head gently set down, I sluggishly brought a hand up to rub my eyes. After a moment, I once more opened my eyes. This time, the brightly lit room did not assault my eyes to the point I was blind. The feeling of a gloved hand running through my hair caused me to turn to the side. To the side of the bed, a elderly gentleman stood over me. Although his face was lined with age and stress, his drooping mustache could not conceal the small smile on his lips. His bright blue eyes stood out stark against his neatly combed gray hair. As I looked him over, I couldn’t help but notice what he was wearing. From the waist up, he wore what I could only describe as a cream colored military uniform right out of the 19th century. Staring at him through half lidded eyes, I struggled to name him. 

“Whaaa…????” I muttered. His smile fell. 

“Of course, you must still be suffering from the effects of your injury my lord. My apologies.” He sighed, his arm falling from my head to his side. “I am afraid I must go, I shall inform the kitchens to bring up some soup for you.” He turned around  and made for an oaken door at the other side of the room. Opening it, he stepped out, but before he closed the door he turned his head to stare at me. “Your father will want to see you later today.” With that, the door shut with a small thumper and a click. His partying words nagged at me. 

Dad had died months ago when the stupid ass decided to take a ladder and prune the two trees in the backyard. Of course, being old enough to have been drafting age in Vietnam with a ton of motor issues, you can probably imagine what happened. Three weeks later, my stepmother tearfully screamed at me for not being there to help him and that I was a terrible son despite the fact  I explicitly cut off contact when I moved out at eighteen. Then  again, I did give my late father a rendition of “The Reason You Suck” Speech I told him when I moved out as his own funeral in front of dozens of witnesses, so I guess I did deserve the bitching and the accompanying slap, however all that pales to the simple fact that dad’s death was confirmed by dozens of people, one of them the evil stepmother of mine. So how could he be seeing me later today? The man is as dead as the dodo. Hold on…..

Immediately my eyes finally snapped all the way open as I jerked up into a sitting position. My head swiveled to and fro, scanning my surroundings. From my experience from watching all manner of period shows, movies, and sundry over the years, I have it on good authority that this was NOT the room I fell asleep in last night, let alone the same bed. 

Exhibit A: this bed was a king sized bed complete with silken sheets and a bearskin blanket. 

Buddy. I sleep on a bean bag and a pile of old clothes. Strike one. 

Exhibit B: I was currently located in a large room that would not be out of place in a 18th century period drama about European royalty. The sunlight shone through a paned glass window illuminated the rainbow carpeted floor, the exquisitely carved furniture, and the ridiculous amount of jewelry stashed around the room. 

I share a one room apartment with two other people, I work three jobs, and the only furniture me and my mates can afford is a tv, a minifridge, a microwave, and a coffee table with some folding chairs. As for jewelry, I own a Mjolnir pendant I got at a witch store when I was young, a hematite ring, and my  glasses. Strike two. 

Fighting a bout of vertigo, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. My breath caught in my throat as my body seemed to revolt against me, swaying dangerously for a moment. With a heave and a grunt I steadied myself through sheer force of will, taking first one step, then another towards a vanity nearby.  Sliding onto a nearby stool, I take a deep breath. For a second, a cold hand clutches my heart, but I grit my teeth and fight it back. As I exhale, I look up into the mirror before me. The person I see is not me. Strike. Three. 

“I’ve been isekai’d,” I distantly heard myself say. A sudden surge of panic races through my being. “WHY THE FUCK HAVE I BEEN ISEKAI’D AND WHY’D IT HAVE TO BE  A DOOMED SIDE CHARCTER!?!?” Pro tip: if you wake up in a place you did not previously go to sleep in, you talk to someone who thinks they know you but you don’t know them, always try to look at your appearance in a reflection because if you look into a mirror and see someone other than yourself, congratulations! You have been isekai’d! While it might have damned me, I am nevertheless thankful I read so much self insert and isekai fanfiction, especially now that I have somehow been transported into the body of a one dimensional side character from a famous novel/anime series. 

Oh well, nothing to do about it but say “screw fate!” 

And live, of course, and damn the plot!