The Isekai'd One Moves

Enoch considered his life quite decent. The moment he opened his eyes, he realized he had been isekai'd. No immediate threats to his life had appeared, nor had any cursed quests popped up. All he possessed was the hollow title of "isekai'd one." An otherworldly life free of duty or destiny. Wasn't that good enough?

But even that is coming to an end.

Enoch adjusted the monocle he wore. He had been reading a newspaper. It was the morning edition, freshly printed. The headline read:

Monsters. As someone living in this world, the word was hardly unfamiliar. Those creatures that appeared at the frontlines whenever they pleased. Humanity's ancient enemy. That was how people defined them.

Yet as an isekai'd player rather than a native, Enoch saw it differently. The word "monster" brought back memories of the game he had once played.

A monster invasion… So this really is the world of Age of Invasion.

Age of Invasion. Also known as the Era of Invasion. A defense game where players repelled waves of monsters at the frontlines using buildings, heroes, and units. The newspaper headline reminded Enoch of AoI. The empire's name, the flow of the frontlines, the invading monsters—everything matched the game's setting.

Sure enough, just as Enoch was weighing the situation, a rectangular blue window appeared before his eyes. It was unmistakably a status window. For months it had remained silent, yet now it manifested as if to declare that things were finally beginning.

Enoch sighed and folded the newspaper.

I suppose I have been living too comfortably for an isekai'd player.

He folded the paper twice more and set it on the corner of the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠desk.

Fortunately, I haven't been idle all this time.

His gaze drifted to the watch on his wrist. Five months had already passed since he first opened his eyes. He had made preparations in his own way.

Monsters or not, I won't let them ruin this comfortable life.

Enoch opened the door and stepped outside. The world needed him.

@

Enoch descended the stairs and opened the door to the first floor. The rich aroma of coffee. The scent of tobacco reminiscent of Cuban doubles. The sharp tang of alcohol rising from oak barrels. Beyond the door lay the classic scene of a pub.

"Up already?"

Enoch turned toward the voice. A middle-aged man with a smooth-shaven head stood alone. He was the owner of the inn-and-pub "The Crooked Fish," where Enoch was staying. Since the man had never given his name, Enoch simply called him Master.

"Good morning, Master."

"Morning, my foot. It's already afternoon."

"Is it? I lose track when day and night blur together. Breakfast, then."

"I said it's lunch."

"Then breakfast-slash-lunch will do."

Enoch sat at the counter bar. Master rolled up his sleeves and stood.

"A request from a customer with deep pockets. Of course I'll oblige. What'll it be?"

"One tuna sandwich and one lime casino. That'll do."

"Not much tuna left. The stock I prepared is almost gone."

"Doesn't matter. Scrape the bottom of the barrel if you have to."

Enoch rested his chin on his hand and passed the time watching the television. The broadcast moved from commercials to the news. Master set a plate in front of him.

"Grilled beef tuna sandwich. The lime casino will be a moment."

"I didn't order grilled beef."

Master focused on shaking a cocktail instead of answering. It seemed like a complimentary service. Enoch bit into the tuna sandwich.

"I've been thinking—why does this tuna sandwich sell so well?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what's so great about tuna soaked in oil?"

"You eat it often enough yourself. So does your family."

"Who says I don't? I tried it after hearing you talk about it, and now it's selling so well it's almost scary."

Master shrugged and set down a glass—the lime casino Enoch had ordered.

"If it's selling well, that's a good thing. Have you registered the patent?"

"Of course I did ages ago. Ah, speaking of which, take this."

Master placed a bundle of cash on the counter.

"What's this?"

"What else? Money from selling the tuna sandwiches. You gave me the idea—I'm not keeping all that profit for myself."

Enoch checked the bundle. One hundred 50,000-cro notes—five million cro total. Cro, the world's currency, was roughly one-to-one with Korean won. In other words, Master had just handed him about five million won. No small sum. Yet Enoch returned the bundle without hesitation.

"Keep it. Use it for the household."

"What? Did you even count this? It's five million cro. That's not pocket change."

"I don't need it. I already have enough to live on by myself."

Enoch spoke calmly. Master muttered, "Strange fellow…" and took the money back.

"You really are odd, you know. Last time you gave that newspaper kid a fortune and called it pocket money."

"The newsboy? He's a good kid. Running around alone every morning to help his parents."

The newsboy was the paper delivery boy. He earned eight thousand cro an hour selling newspapers. Enoch had felt sorry for him and bought a year's subscription plus extra spending money. As a result, the boy slipped the paper under Enoch's door every morning—a small act of kindness in return. Thanks to that, Enoch enjoyed the luxury of reading the news without braving the cold wind.

"That's true enough. But normal people don't just throw money around because they feel sorry for someone."

"Throw money? It was only a million cro."

"Hey, that tuna sandwich you ate costs three thousand cro each. If you've got cash to spare, at least leave a tip."

"Consider the bundle I just gave you the tip."

Enoch chuckled and set down his empty glass. Then he asked,

"By the way, Master—any word on the favor I asked?"

"Word? …Ah, that one? Finding some woman."

"Yes. Enough time has passed; I thought there might be some leads by now."

"You said it. I was about to forget, but now that you mention it…"

Master pulled a sheet of paper from a shelf and handed it over.

"Here. I got this a week ago. Meant to give it to you, but you never came down from the second floor."

"Sorry. I've been working on something. Did you look it over? Anything strange?"

"Hmm? Nothing particularly strange… Ah, there is one thing. The woman you're looking for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠isn't an adult. She's a kid."

"A kid?"

Enoch examined the document. A photograph of a silver-haired girl with blue eyes was clipped to the profile.

"Well? Is she the one?"

"…Yes. She is. The age is a little off, but…"

Enoch stared at the photograph. He was certain. She was one of the main characters featured on the game's cover—the swordsman who mastered both blade and magic. The Absolute-Zero Swordmage, Lakrina.

Monsters returning after months, the status window activating, and even the person I've been searching for turning up… The timing is too convenient.

It felt as though time that had been frozen was finally moving again. Enoch studied the profile. Moonwell Orphanage. It wasn't far from here—maybe thirty minutes by carriage.

No point putting it off.

Enoch made his decision and stood.

"Thanks for the meal, Master."

"So you're heading to the orphanage now?"

"She's someone I've been looking for."

Enoch took out a thick wad of cash and placed it on the counter. Master's eyes widened.

"Why are you giving me this all of a sudden?"

"Information fee. A token of appreciation. Just take it."

Enoch gave a short reply, opened the door, and left. Silence lingered in his wake. Master stared at the bundle Enoch had left behind. Thirty million cro.

"Crazy… Just how much money does that guy have?"

Master gazed blankly at the spot where Enoch had disappeared. Maybe it was his imagination, but the scent of money seemed to hang in the air.

@

Enoch's reasoning was simple. A playable character had appeared, so he would bring her along by any ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠means necessary. That was all.

Sooner or later, Lakrina will enter the academy anyway. Leaving the orphanage is inevitable. All I have to do is step in and offer to sponsor her.

There were many ways to earn someone's favor. Devoting time and sincerity. Building trust. But in the end, only one thing truly mattered: winning their heart. And so Enoch simply bought it with money. As long as he won her heart, what did it matter?

"I heard there's a child named Lakrina here."

"Pardon? Ah, yes…"

The orphanage was run by a nun. Facing the elderly woman who had lived a modest life, Enoch pulled a bundle of cash from his coat.

"I'll get straight to the point. I want to take the girl with me. In exchange, I'll donate fifty million cro to the orphanage."

Enoch produced ten bundles of cash, stacked them into a tower, and pushed them toward the nun.

"Cash, not goods. What do you say? Is this enough?"

His tone was perfectly calm, his expression serene. The nun across from him felt as though she had suddenly become a slave trader. Where had this much money even come from?

"W-wait a moment! There's no need to pull out money right away—"

"Not enough? Shall I add another ten million?"

"…What?"

Enoch produced another bundle and stacked it atop the tower. Sixty million cro now.

"How about this?"

"Hold on! Please, just listen—"

"Another ten million?"

"No, that's not—"

"Twenty million?"

"Sir, if you would just—"

"Fine. Let's make it a clean hundred million."

Enoch produced yet more bundles, stacking them like Jenga and sliding the tower toward the nun.

"One hundred million cro in total."

"……"

"Still not enough? Shall I add another hundred million?"

"Stop! Stop!"

The elderly nun shouted. Only then did Enoch finally cease building his cash tower.

"…There's no need for a donation. We respect the children's wishes. If the child agrees, you may take her."

"Understood."

Enoch nodded belatedly. At least he seemed willing to stop the money games. The nun finally felt she could relax. For someone who had lived modestly her whole life, watching a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠tower of cash rise in real time was far from pleasant.

"Sister, could you speak well of me to Lakrina?"

"Pardon? Well… I suppose I could…"

"Thank you. In return for your kindness, I'll leave this hundred million cro here."

"…Couldn't you just take it back?"

Greed like this had no place on the path of good deeds. It felt no different from a slave trader's behavior. The nun's eyes welled with that sentiment. Enoch shook his head firmly.

"I'm sorry, but repacking twenty bundles is more trouble than it's worth."

"……Yes."

"Just keep it. As I said, use it for the orphanage's operating expenses. Treat yourself to something nice while you're at it."

"Yes…"

The nun nodded wearily. Regardless of the reason, having extra operating funds was a good thing—even if the amount was excessive. In the end, good was good, wasn't it?

@

The conversation paused. The nun went to find Lakrina and relayed Enoch's offer.

"Lakrina, someone wishes to take you in."

"…Me? Who is it?"

"Well…"

The nun recalled what she knew of Enoch. Only bundles of cash came to mind.

"He's… a very wealthy man."

"Pardon? Ah… I see."

"Truly, truly wealthy."

"Pardon? Well… that's fortunate, I suppose?"

"Isn't it?"

The elderly nun smiled brightly at Lakrina. Lakrina couldn't help but wonder if she was being sold off.