Dances with Goblins (1)

It was bullshit. But I was Daeho.

The brilliant result of falling for a smishing text like an idiot was that I had been dumped into another world. The bewilderment of realizing I had landed somewhere that was not Earth was more despairing than the day I learned the one insanely hard essay question on the exam—the only one—was worth fifty points.

Still, thanks to a kind old man I met, I managed to set my heart on becoming an adventurer. Looking back, that part, at least, had been a blessing. This place, though, was far too cruel for a hothouse flower raised in the greenhouse called the Republic of Korea.

The brown-haired woman who looked like a guild receptionist seemed to know ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it, too.

"You?"

Was she saying I looked too scrawny to be an adventurer? Fair. I wasn't exactly built, and swearing I'd make a living with my body probably sounded a little delusional. Didn't matter. So long as I had the sacred art of running my mouth, anything was possible.

"Everyone's beginning is humble. But my ending will be magnificent."

It was a pretty respectable line, and she actually seemed impressed. Well, how often did anyone in Medieval Land get to hear something that classy?

"People who talk that shiny usually drop dead early, though."

"Ghk."

"Look at me, losing my mind. This isn't the time. Wait a moment."

She pulled a sheet of paper from a drawer and held it out. Apparently she didn't turn away anyone who walked in. Medieval Land, and they had paper. The world really did whatever it pleased.

"Can you write?"

"Probably?"

"You either can or you can't. What do you mean, probably?"

"Just give it here."

If I told her it was Schrödinger's language patch, would she even get it? Fortunately, the patch seemed to have installed cleanly on the way over. I could ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠talk without a hitch, and even though I'd never seen the letters before, I understood them just fine.

"I can write."

"Then write it and hand it over, quick. There are a lot of people waiting behind you."

A long line had formed at my back. The life of a beauty was a tiring one. Looking closer, her hair was a little frizzy, and the dark circles under her eyes were impressively deep—and that she could still be pretty was honestly astonishing. She was clearly being crushed under too much work. Men, I swear. Even at the DMV or the bank, they always insist on handing their business to the pretty one.

There wasn't much to fill in. Name, specialty, reason for applying, assigned position, that sort of thing. According to the old man, there were three positions in all: tanker, ranged damage dealer, and melee damage dealer. I wrote down melee damage dealer, just as I'd planned, and the receptionist immediately called foul.

"Are you good with weapons?"

"No?"

"Then write tanker."

"But I want to be a dealer."

"Sign up as a dealer without a single weapon you know how to use, and nobody's going to let you in a party."

What a shocking revelation! The old man had not mentioned this particular reality. Looking at it now, he'd been a salesman dispatched by the guild to recruit tankers.

"A tanker is a different story. We're chronically short on them, so if you apply, you pass on the spot."

Becoming a Meat Shield who gets beaten on by monsters wasn't exactly appealing. I didn't have another option. I needed a way to make money right now, and I had no interest in day labor or begging.

"Yes, well done!"

Last was the name. I could have just written Kim Daeho, but putting down my name from Korea as-is felt like a waste. Since I'd come all the way to Medieval Land, I wanted a new one—a fresh start. I worried over it for a moment, and then a single idea pierced my brilliant brain.

I am the man who will stand at the very top of this place.

And so my name was GOAT. Goat.

"Pfft! How is that a person's name... how is it goat..."

Fuck. Goat means goat here, too?

It wasn't even that funny, and I didn't particularly enjoy watching her crack up and wheeze.

"Not a goat. It means the greatest of all time. Because I'm a man who's going to be the greatest."

"Pfft—heh... hee... Yes, I'm sure you are. Understood, Mr. Goat. Best of luck out there. Come back tomorrow to pick up your Bronze Plate."

"Thank you. I have a feeling we'll be seeing a lot of each other, so how about we introduce ourselves?"

"My name is Sonya. There are people waiting, so get out, quickly!"

And that was how I became a Meat Shield in another world.

Back to the present.

"...You okay?"

"Yes."

I was not okay at all. Babar knew it, which was why he was treading so carefully. Even so, I was in better shape than Merhen.

"Aigoo, I'm dying. I'm dead."

His ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠arm had snapped clean through and was dangling. Gear was precious property, but a body mattered more. A battered shield, bluntly put, could be repaired or replaced. An arm couldn't be swapped out just because you'd hurt it. This wasn't a cyberpunk world. Even if equipment that had been clean yesterday was now broken and filthy, being alive was enough. You could still promise yourself a next time.

"...Everyone, good work."

Somehow or other, we passed through the gates of Baikal. The Adventurer Guild felt farther away than usual. Fucking place. All that was left was to report in, and the brutal quest would finally be over.

Screee—

The moment the guild door opened, every eye locked onto us. Of course they did. A party that had been gleaming this morning had come back in rags, and the second a party walked in looking perfect for the biting, the tearing, the tasting, and the enjoying, the hyenas wearing coworkers' faces started ripping into us.

"Whoa, look at the archer's arm. Hanging by a thread."

"See? That's why I said you don't party with that weirdo tanker."

Murmur, murmur. I didn't even have the strength to argue with that bullshit. I'd gone hoarse earlier, cracking on a note while I was singing.

"EVERYBODY SHUT YOUR MOUTHS!!!"

The racket died only after Sonya's lion's roar came down on it.

"Mr. GOAT, come here."

"Thank you, Sonya."

Sonya, the brown-haired beauty, spoke.

"Don't mention it. So, what happened?"

One warm sentence from her and I nearly started leaking snot. Snot would have been unsightly, so I answered while streaming tears instead.

"Hic—fuck. They said three goblins. So why did five of these shitty bastards show up?!"

"You're saying the guild's information was wrong?"

Her tone suggested that couldn't possibly be the case.

"YES!!!! Look at the state of the shield I bought here yesterday. And look at Merhen's arm. What am I supposed to do about this?!"

The more I talked, the more it stopped being tears and started being rage. If they'd given us accurate information in the first place, nobody would have gotten hurt and the gear wouldn't have been wrecked. Once I thought that, I couldn't hold it in.

"GRAAAAAAAAH!!!! I'm not leaving until you compensate me!!!!! I'M NOT LEAVING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"Mr. GOAT, shut up!!! You're too loud!!!!"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Calm down, and tell me slowly."

Composure recovered, I laid out the sequence of events, neat and clear.

"...Hm. There's Merhen's injury. And the state of you, Mr. GOAT. The others don't look particularly intact, either. And there are five pairs of goblin ears."

"This is very likely the truth."

Sonya added that last part herself.

"I'll speak with the branch manager and make sure we put together a compensation plan."

"Yeah, well. I'm sorry for yelling, too. I was just so angry."

In truth, Sonya was basically the receptionist at the front desk, and none of this was her fault. She'd only passed along the information she'd been given. Seeing her admit the guild's mistake anyway, I couldn't bring myself to say anything more.

"This is serious."

Sonya let out a heavy sigh.

"Lately, monsters have been appearing more and more often. And every so often, the information we've collected turns out to be wrong."

This was a grave matter. Guild information was never supposed to be wrong, not at any time. Put bluntly, if you trusted only what the guild gave you and there turned out to be more monsters than reported, all that waited was a pointless death. In my case, I'd been unlucky—and lucky. The luckiest of the luckless bastards. That was me.

Anyway, who wanted to die for nothing? If people knew they were going to die like idiots, nobody would become an adventurer. That was exactly why the guild poured itself into collecting accurate information. And yet bad information was still being handed out!

"I might honestly be looking at the moment to quit the adventurer life."

"No!!!! We're already short on tankers, and if you quit too, Mr. GOAT, it'll be a real disaster!!"

"—is what I almost said~"

"You still insist on talking like a complete asshole, I see!"

"But what if you just saw it wrong?"

Raccoon butted in.

"With eyes smaller than mine, it'd be weirder if you hadn't seen it wrong."

"What is this fucking racist—this bastard I ought to chew to death—even saying?"

Conversations with this raccoon-like bastard, who went around telling people we were fellow recruits, always went like this. Do not be fooled by the decent face. This man is a racist! Adventurers didn't even split into classes to begin with, and yet here was a guy wandering around calling me his classmate just because we'd registered on the same day. He was definitely not normal.

"Whoa, whoa. Charge a joke like you're ready to die, and women won't like you."

"Dumbass. That's not something a guy with a perfectly fine face who gets rejected by women every single day gets to say."

"You son of a bitch??"

"My head hurts, so go fight outside!!!"

We were just about to relocate under Sonya's order of expulsion when the cheap bell hung on the guild door rang. A faint breeze came with it, and someone stepped inside.

"A woman."

"A beauty."