An Otherworldly Life That Began with Narration
The streets of this other world were fascinating. A world of swords and magic, of adventure and romance. Everything looked just as I had imagined it would — just as I had hoped.
With a single exception.
Overwhelmed by his first glimpse of another world's streets, Yunoa had no idea what he even looked like. Elated by the mere fact that he had arrived in another world, the fool possessed not a shred of crisis awareness.
Yeah. This voice.
What the hell was this creepy narration that described me as if some observer were watching from a third-person perspective? It sounded like one of those electronic older-sister voices I'd heard somewhere before. There wasn't a trace of emotion in it, and yet it kept hitting me with brutal, unfiltered facts.
I'd only just arrived in this other world. Give me a little time to adjust, and this Hero's glorious isekai life would be off and running...
He had no grasp of reality whatsoever, blindly convinced that everything would work out simply because he had come to another world. That way of thinking would only hasten a future in which he died a lonely death in a strange land, rotting away without so much as a grave.
Wow. That was genuinely infuriating.
"Don't say creepy shit like that when I haven't even started yet!"
I dumped my anger straight at the narration.
"What? That guy... he's yelling and shouting all by himself."
"Shh, shh, don't look. I think he's crazy."
"Looks like a beggar, and his mind's gone too, poor thing..."
Passersby on the street were whispering as they stared at me.
Damn it. This was driving me insane.
Before anyone could report me as a lunatic, I ducked into the first deserted alley I could find.
A puddle of rainwater had collected deeper in. Just how bad did I look for people to react like that? I leaned over the puddle and studied my reflection.
Eyes, nose, mouth — all present and accounted for. It was the same familiar face I'd always known. If anything, coming to another world might have made me a little more handsome.
He studied his reflection in the puddle and, without a shred of evidence, labored under the delusion that he had gotten better-looking. In reality, his appearance had not changed in the slightest from what it had always been.
Oh, just shut up already.
This damn narration didn't react to a word I said. It stayed quiet when it felt like it and spoke when it wanted to. Since the voice came from inside my head, covering my ears did nothing.
Was this some kind of ability granted to reincarnators? If so, why did it have to be something this annoying and unpleasant?
That aside, I really did look like a beggar. When you start a game, they give you starter equipment, don't they? A wooden sword and some cloth armor, at the very least — that's just common sense.
But the starter equipment I'd been given consisted of exactly one thing.
Rags.
I was wearing what looked like a scrap of cloth that had spent a good decade rolling around in a dump. Underwear? Shoes? I had neither. Just bare feet, and a top that was luckily long enough to cover my lower half. Even that had a tear over one side of my chest, leaving my left nipple out in the open air.
If they were going to do this, they could've at least sent me over in the clothes I'd been wearing back in the modern world.
According to the narration, I'd been transferred here by "a goddess's mistake." Fine — mistakes happen. But dropping me in the middle of the street wearing nothing but a rag with a hole over one nipple? Was that really the play?
Now that I was starting to grasp the situation, the danger of it finally sank in. Whether the voice in my head belonged to a god or not, it hadn't been wrong. In this state, I could barely even walk the streets. I had no money, nothing to eat, nowhere to sleep.
Was this... actually dangerous?
Having grasped the situation far too late, there was nothing he could do. To make matters worse, a pair of thugs known as homeless hunters were approaching from the far end of the alley.
Homeless hunters?
What the hell was that supposed to—
And then, sure enough, two men who looked every bit the villains they were came walking this way from the far end of the alley. One carried a wooden club studded with iron nails, the other a serrated dagger. Both of them licked their lips and scanned the alley as if searching for something.
"Eek..."
If those guys really were the "homeless hunters" the narration had mentioned, then the prey was obviously me. Cold sweat poured down my back. All I could think was that I needed to hide, and fast.
Fortunately, they hadn't spotted me yet. And right beside me sat a large trash bin overflowing with food waste — fruit peels and the like.
"Shit..."
I had no choice. I climbed into the trash bin and hid. The stench was so vile it made me gag, but I held it in with everything I had until they passed.
The two of them had lost big at the gambling den the night before, and they were prowling the alleys looking for a homeless man to beat to death as an outlet for their frustration. Yunoa threw himself into a heap of filthy, disgusting garbage to avoid them. It was a sight that more than earned him the title of human trash.
Wasn't that a little harsh...?
I had to survive first, didn't I?
At any rate, hiding in that damp pile of food waste paid off — the thugs hunting for prey eventually moved on. After confirming the coast was clear, I carefully climbed back out.
"Ugh... the smell..."
Rotten apple peels and some unidentifiable, sludgy food-waste residue clung to my body. I'd already looked like a beggar. Now I was going to smell like one, too.
The excitement of arriving in another world had vanished without a trace. Now I just wanted to cry.
No money. Nothing to eat. Nowhere to sleep. No one I knew, and no real grasp of how this world worked.
So where was I supposed to go?
A place that would extend a helping hand to the wretched, asking nothing in return. Only one such place came to mind.
A church.
A church that spread the word of a god might help me, even a little. O God, please take pity on this wretched soul and grant him his daily bread and a place to rest. I'd never been religious, but if it would get me out of this beggar's state, I'd do anything.
Driven to the brink, he was praying to a god he didn't even believe in, shamelessly hoping for help. But there was no foolish god anywhere who would fall for his false faith.
Painfully sharp, as always. I was too tired to get annoyed at every little thing now.
Anyway, I wandered the streets in search of a church — my only hope. I paid no mind to the people glancing at me, or to the furry beastkin who pinched their noses as they passed. A man with nothing left to lose has neither fear nor shame. I simply walked on, searching for a church, my left nipple displayed with perfect dignity through the tear in my rags.
I don't know how long I wandered. Then, in the distance, I spotted a massive building that practically radiated holiness.
Wandering the streets in a filthy, foul-smelling state, he arrived at a church dedicated to the goddess Freya.
Did it really have to tack on "filthy and foul-smelling" every single time?
Still, at least now I knew for certain this was a church. Please, someone, help me.
I started toward the entrance, only for a gatekeeper to block my path.
"Halt. Who the hell are you?"
For a church, they were pretty strict. Or were churches in this world off-limits to ordinary people?
"I've come because I'd like to offer a prayer to the goddess. Are ordinary people not permitted inside?"
"It's not that, but... at least clean yourself up before you come."
I couldn't back down now. I had to get inside and grab a priest or a bishop — anyone — and plead for help. Putting on the most pitiful expression I could manage, I even faked a limp on a perfectly healthy leg.
"But I haven't been able to eat anything for days, and I'm so ill. I have nowhere to wash myself. The goddess is all I have left to turn to. Please, just this once — would you allow me to offer a prayer to Her? I beg of you..."
Even I had to admit it was an all-out performance. Miserable and humiliating as it was, I had no choice. I had nothing left to lose!
"The Saintess is offering prayers inside at this very moment. I cannot permit entry to someone in such a filthy state."
The gatekeeper's brow furrowed violently as the stench coming off me hit his nose. Like I wanted to be like this. Telling me to clean up was useless when I had nowhere to wash. I'd hoped that if I just made it to a church and asked, I might get some kind of help. Getting turned away at the door without even setting foot inside — I couldn't imagine anything more despairing.
Yunoa begged the gatekeeper to let him inside, playing the part of a pitiful beggar, but it was no use. He hadn't needed to act in the first place — he already was a pitiful beggar. Meanwhile, having just finished her prayers, Saintess Sistina began walking toward the exit, utterly unaware of what was happening outside.
Nothing but gut-churning commentary, as usual. But listening closely — wasn't it actually giving me some pretty useful information?
Come to think of it, it had done the same thing back in the alley. If the voice hadn't warned me that the "homeless hunters" were coming, I might already be dead.
A Saintess.
If what the voice said was true, the Saintess had just finished her prayers and was heading toward the entrance where I was standing. Which meant if I just held on a little longer, I'd meet her. And she was a Saintess — surely she wouldn't ignore someone reaching out for help?
I'd wait.
"You! You stink! Get the hell out of here already!"
The gatekeeper glared and shouted as I continued to loiter at the entrance. And then the church doors opened, and the Saintess appeared.
The gatekeeper's eyes and mine turned toward her at the same time. According to the narration, the Saintess's name was Sistina. She wore priestly robes, her long cherry-blossom-pink hair cascading down her back. She was a beauty whose sacred presence more than lived up to the title of Saintess.
"Wow... she's gorgeous..."
I couldn't help but murmur in awe. The gatekeeper snapped at me.
"You! How dare you look upon the Saintess with such irreverent eyes! Get out of here!"
"Please wait. It's all right."
The Saintess stopped the gatekeeper — who had been about to level a spear at me — with a single quiet word. Then she approached me with slow, elegant steps.
"The goddess has always taught us to show compassion to the poor and the sick. If a church that serves Her will were to scorn and turn away such people because of me, She would surely grieve."
"S-Saintess, but..."
"It's all right. Look into this man's eyes. Filthy and foul-smelling beggar though he may be, he still hungers for life. That he has come all this way to meet me — is that not surely the goddess's will?"
I was genuinely grateful, but hearing even the Saintess call me a filthy, foul-smelling beggar stung a little...
I couldn't let this chance slip away. I dropped to my knees before her, clasping my hands together.
"Saintess, please, help me just this once. At this rate I'll die in the streets. At the very least, some clothes and something to eat..."
Before I could even finish, the gatekeeper barked sharply.
"You bastard! How dare you—!"
"I believe I said it was all right."
"Ah! Y-yes. Forgive me."
Saintess Sistina quieted the gatekeeper, then turned back to me with a warm smile. So this was the dignity of a Saintess. She was so radiant I could have mistaken her for the goddess herself.
And then the voice spoke in my head.
Yunoa found himself utterly captivated by the Saintess's sacred and beautiful presence. But he had no idea that, in truth, she wasn't wearing any underwear.
Wow.