I Am Not the Heroine

People would tell you that if you asked what a fantasy novel couldn't do without, the answer would be magic, or dragons — the exotic stuff.

I disagree.

That's only true if you're talking about the fantasy genre in isolation. Zoom out to novels as a whole, and the single most essential element of a fantasy novel is the heroine.

Right? How could you possibly leave the heroine out of a novel?

And a proper fantasy heroine is almost always a mage who wields extraordinary magic, or a saintess who channels sacred holy power. Sometimes they throw in an elf, or some other demi-human, as a side option...

Alright. Let's take the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Saintess as our example.

That kind of broadcast came crackling out of the radio in my pocket.

The Saintess, as always, healed the wounded with her sacred holy power, and whenever disaster struck she was always first on the scene, moving fast enough to keep the body count from climbing.

"That's our Saintess for you! She's already at the disaster site ahead of us, treating the injured!"

Which is why the Saintess was every nun's dream, more or less. The Holy Order's Saintess had a face that could rival any celebrity's, a personality like an angel's, and a faith deep enough to drown in.

Truly befitting the main heroine of this godforsaken novel world.

A few years from now she'd climb to the 100th Floor with the protagonist and set the people of the Tower free. That was this novel's fixed scenario. The promised ending.

"She's so incredible. I wish I could treat people at a disaster site like that too..."

Anyway, true to her role as the main heroine, the Saintess was soaking up every drop of respect from the fellow nun standing beside me.

She was blind, hard of hearing, and could barely speak — disabled in just about every way that counted — but her beauty and her staggering holy power transmuted even those physical defects into charm. That was why a broadcast crew followed her wherever she went.

And since the time was coming for the protagonist to meet his main heroine, the Saintess would, in a matter of days, set out with him to assault the highest floors. Preferably as fast as possible, so they could set me free.

Or they could hurry up and drop dead and take this whole world down with them.

That way I could finally stop doing this shit.

"...Ha. How revolting."

I spat the words out while the radio chattered on.

The Saintess herself hadn't done anything wrong, of course. Unfortunately, I was not a person overflowing with charity the way she was, so all I could do was curse her and seethe.

"Our Ruina's face always curdles the second the Saintess comes up. Keep the jealousy in check, would you? You're seriously weird, you know that?"

I'm the weird one?

I think you're the weird ones for not being jealous.

"The Saintess treats people with a heart like an angel's. What could you possibly hate about someone like that?"

Fair enough. The Saintess was a living ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠saint with a genuinely kind heart. She treated people for free even when they couldn't pay, and on her days off she spent her personal time at the hospital looking after the elderly. That was who she was.

I'd seen it in person, too, so yes — she really was that kind. And yet...

Unlike us nuns, the Saintess only ever treated the wounded from the safety of the rear.

Fine. She was blind, could barely hear, and couldn't even speak properly. I understood that much. I did. I understood it up to that point.

"I'm just jealous. So what?"

"Oh my? Envy is one thing — but why does it have to be jealousy?"

...But people only ever looked at her.

We nuns always went to the front ourselves, fighting monsters alongside the Hunters, clothes torn and blood splattered across our faces, staking our lives on every brawl. And still, everyone reserved their reverence for the Saintess alone.

Thanks to that, she was wealthy, held a position in the Order high enough to rival the Pope, and lived very, very comfortably. Meanwhile nuns like me drifted off to sleep in a communal dorm, listening to the other girls snore.

We did our own laundry. We choked down meals that tasted like leftover slop. We were ordinary nuns — and at the drop of a hat we got shipped out to disaster sites, or had to grind through those goddamn prayer drills and Purification training.

You know the kind. Banishing monsters with sacred power.

The Saintess sat in the back and healed the wounded at her leisure. Those of us with weaker holy power handled the small fry. We had to do it whether we wanted to or not, on nothing but spite and grit.

That was the life of a nun raised in the Holy Order.

I wanted to sleep in a hotel room, ignore everyone, and do absolutely nothing for twenty-four hours straight... That was one of my wishes for this life.

"Keep a heart that ugly and you'll never get married, you know? Don't you realize nuns like us barely get any men interested anyway?"

I didn't need marriage either. I just wanted to live in peace without doing this fucking work. Alone. Comfortably. Without a single worry.

I wasn't even asking to be rich. I just wanted an ordinary life — earning ordinary money, resting at home like an ordinary person.

But this was not an ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ordinary life.

"Ah, right. Come to think of it, Ruina doesn't even have to worry about that, does she? Someone came looking for you just a few days ago, after all."

"...You mention that bastard one more time and we're going to have a problem."

And besides...

One goddamn millstone around my neck was trying to take a life that was already far from ordinary and make it even less so.

I was not a beauty. I didn't have the Saintess's pale skin, or her full chest, or her generous hips — the kind of figure men worshipped like an idol. If anything, the way I'd grown up had packed muscle onto my frame whether I wanted it or not. I was covered in scars from the monsters I'd fought, and one of my arms was a prosthetic.

What man would fall for a woman like that? A crippled piece of shit covered in scars, with her right arm chopped off — you think anyone would want that?

So then why the hell does a guy like that exist?

Amazingly enough, one did.

"Ugh, if a man that handsome showed up, you should've grabbed him! Do you have any idea how frustrating this is to watch? Why would the Hunter fall for a girl like that instead of the Saintess?"

"Shut up."

"Wow, that's actually weird. Of all the Hunters, why does Ruina hate Hunter Kang Jiwoo?"

"I said shut up."

Just one. But he existed. The problem was who that one person happened to be...

"He's not just any Hunter — he has the title of Hero, you know? He's rich, and he's incredibly strong."

...He was the one and only protagonist of this world.

How had things gotten this twisted? The savior of this hopeless world — the Hero who was supposed to climb the Tower with the Saintess and redeem everyone in it — had taken an interest in me.

"If a nun like us married Hunter Jiwoo, that would be a complete reversal of fortune. You could have that comfortable, wealthy life you keep talking about."

"Would you please shut that mouth of yours. And we're about to start, so if you don't want to die, get your shit together."

More than anything, there was a bigger problem.

I had originally been a man.

I wore a slender woman's body now, with purple hair I'd never had any connection to — but until I fell into this damned novel, I had been an ordinary guy.

"...I'd rather bite my tongue and kill myself than get fucked by some guy."

"I cannot believe the kind of crazy bitch I'm looking at. If a man and a woman like each other, that's just how it goes — why do you hate it so much?"

The point was, no matter how handsome he was, did she really think my heart would stir just because some guy had a thing for me?

Fuck. It went past disgusting and straight into nauseating. Especially that time he showed up carrying a bouquet... ugh.

"Sisters of the Holy Order? This way, please!"

"Understood. We'll be right there."

"Well, good luck. We'll handle transporting the wounded."

That fucking bitch was dipping out on her own?

Should I just grab her by the hair right now?

No. No. I had to drop thoughts like that. If I let my mind wander here, it might not end with losing an arm the way it had ten years ago.

So. Get your head on straight.

"Where did the monsters appear?"

"Over there. A pack of orcs came out of the sewers!"

"Ha. Orcs. In the sewer."

"Yes... Is there a problem?"

Orcs in a sewer, of all things?

Could this get any more wretched. Not some other monster — we had to Purify filthy orcs in a filthy sewer. I genuinely couldn't tell anymore whether we were nuns or soldiers.

Ah. Right. In this world, nuns were just the female version of soldiers, so we were soldiers. I'd become a woman and I still couldn't get out of the army.

For fuck's sake.

"Hah. It's nothing. My Sisters and I will commence Purification immediately."

"Yes, please. Several civilians have already been taken. If you could rescue them..."

"Don't worry. The Lord does not abandon us."

Even so, I lived as a nun in a world like this. It was a cookie-cutter Hunter tower-climbing novel, and I'd woken up in it as a woman — but I was still alive.

"Everyone, check your Purification gear."

"Yes, Sister Ruina."

And even in a world like this, I had one joy left in life.

It was the reason I'd read this godforsaken novel in the first place, and now it doubled as an outstanding stress reliever: Purification, the work that fell primarily to nuns. This was something even the Saintess couldn't do. Only nuns could.

"We move."

I headed for the city sewers with my junior Sisters. I'd already been stacking stress thanks to that goddamn protagonist; putting down some orc bastards ought to take the edge off.

"Grrrrrr..."

As we drew close to the sewer, the orcs' cries carried out to meet us. Disgusting, greedy-looking things that opened Gates from dungeons day in and day out to plunder people. Except for goblins, these were the worst of the lot. Their hides were so thick that one or two bullets wouldn't even kill them, which made them a pain. If you had to find a silver lining, they were big, so they were easy to hit. And their meat got used as livestock feed, apparently.

"Five orcs in sight. Prepare."

"Yes."

Time to begin the Purification.

Purification was inflicted in the name of God, and it was custom to kiss the crucifix pendant before it began. That was all the preparation we needed.

I pulled the submachine gun off my back, sighted in on the orcs in the sewer, and called out.

"Yes!"

Then I pulled the trigger.

"Grrk?"

The submachine gun roared — a hammering burst that didn't let up.

"Kieeek?!"

I kept firing until every orc in front of me was wiped out, until those thick layers of fat were shredded to ribbons. They screamed as the rounds turned them into honeycombs.

Watching that was my only joy in life, my only hobby: pumping every last bullet into a monster's torso until the thing was a lattice of holes... This, too, was what I lived for.

"Lord, grant salvation unto those wicked creatures!"

This had been the part of the novel that interested me most when I was reading it — nuns putting down monsters with guns. How was anyone supposed to resist that?

"...That's enough! Target suppressed."

Honestly, if I had my way, I'd unload these rounds into the protagonist instead of those orcs. And then I'd tell him, plain as day.

Ah. Forgot to turn the radio off.

Static hissed, and the broadcast cut.

So do me a favor and lose interest in me already. Go follow that Saintess around instead.

That went for the Hero bastard who was probably watching me from a distance even now.

"Haa. What a fucking life..."

I stuck a cigarette between my lips and headed into the sewer.