After Human Extinction, I Am In Danger

As a sleep-deprived and struggling writer, I knew that writing could cause hair loss—but I never expected it could also lead to transmigration. Wearing my cotton slippers and a simple two-piece outfit, I opened my eyes to find myself standing in a vast, lush forest. In this prehistoric jungle, where even the mosquitoes were bigger than my face, I—utterly weak and defenseless—began my miserable journey of eating grass, eating grass, and eating more grass… Then, as the last remaining human on Earth, I was captured. Me: … The hell do you mean, the last human?! A critically endangered species?! So I’m basically a prehistoric relic now?! Meanwhile, my newly appointed, cold and absurdly powerful human caretaker (who also doubles as my personal poop scooper) squatted down with a dog food bowl in hand, expressionless like a complete idiot: “Come. Eat your food.” Me: … Who the hell do you think you’re looking down on?! I— I’ll flip your damn bowl!