I Transmigrated into Doraemon and Became a Collectible

When I woke up, I found myself lying in a shipping container in a future black market.

The label read, “22nd-century limited collectible, human boy edition.”

While the guard dozed, I snatched a banana peel gadget and slipped out of the container.

I tumbled down a slope and, by pure chance, fell into the closet at Nobita’s house.

After Doraemon scanned me, he exclaimed, “There’s a black-market slave chip in the back of your neck!”

The surgery was only halfway done when a mechanical voice sounded outside the window: “Escaped collectible. Reclaim immediately.”

Nobita grabbed the air cannon while Doraemon rummaged for a gadget. “Where’s the spare pocket?”

I picked up the banana peel that had fallen to the floor and smirked. “Don’t rush. Let them slip on it first.”