Chapter 1
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: In This Strange World, How Am I Supposed to Survive as an Orphan?
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Where magic exists and giant lizards the size of people soar through the skies like it's nothing.
A place where you get kidnapped every damn day on the streets where you should have the right to walk safely—hell, might as well give that right to the dogs.
And yet, hygiene levels are weirdly top-notch, no real discomfort compared to the modern world.
What if you got dropped into a world like that?
"Ugh, fuck."
It'd probably be better than this shit.
My body shivered from the cold air rising off the dirt ground.
Medieval-style buildings peeking between structures, carriages zipping down cobblestone streets.
And beastkin with animal ears—folks who'd raise red flags back home.
Nine out of ten people would call this a fantasy world.
"Fuck, send me back."
But this ain't fantasy.
I could say that with full confidence.
Why?
'Cause I'm in the back alleys.
Unlike the bright, bustling streets, dust and garbage stench choke your lungs here.
And my job? Orphan.
You know, the kids in novels who dig through trash in dingy alleys just to scrape by.
Opened my eyes, and boom—I'm one of 'em.
"Gimme a fantasy world."
It was right there, but might as well have been walled off.
Nah, there is a wall.
The merchants' trademark territorial bullshit, conscience long gone.
Did they spot my inner merchant potential at a glance? Tried heading out once, and bam—showered with hot welcomes from the street vendors' kicks.
I got it, though.
If I locked eyes with a rat crawling on the mart floor while shopping, I'd feel off too.
"But fuck, is kicking first thing on sight really how it works?"
Merchants spotted me like I'd unearthed treasure, eyes bulging.
Then, pro soccer style, they booted me back to the alley smooth as you please.
My back bent like a bow in the process.
"So this is what those quadruped bots felt like."
Not long ago, I was cracking up at videos of folks kicking perfectly good walking machines.
Never thought I'd live it.
Tried other streets on a whim, but...
"Filthy vagrant bastard! Stay the hell outta sight, hole up in there!"
"Gahk!"
Same result.
The fantasy folks' generous hospitality left me curling up, clueless.
"Urgh... fuck..."
Like a prison smack in the city, this massive back alley boxed in by streets on all sides—no escape.
At first, I pitied the other orphans sprawled everywhere.
"Now they just look the same."
Nah, maybe worse off.
Least they got moldy bread to eat right now. Me? Nada.
If I had something edible, it'd be a smidge better...
"Hold up."
Bread? Food?
My brain hit that point, and my body was already bolting.
"You fucker! Gimme that!"
Why dig trash when you can snag bread direct?
I charged an orphan munching away a bit off, solo dinner buddy.
"Daring to chow down in front of me?!"
He didn't expect company—froze when he saw me, eyes wide.
"Hahp! Hmmmph!"
Shoved the rest in his mouth frantic-like.
Then pointed at his puffed cheeks, all smug.
"Huuuh. Mmmphah."
I froze.
Stomach growling, no grub.
But wrenching spit-soaked bread from some dude's mouth? Got the guts?
"Fuck."
Nah, too far.
Back alley rules: salute the guy who fairly defended his meal, move on.
Not starving to death yet.
Clutched my rumbling gut, staggered to another alley.
"Gotta move to score food."
Trash bins first.
Bruised leg made it tough, hobbling.
"Hah, fuck. Dumbass move going out—body's wrecked now."
All I got left: aches and fresh human distrust trait.
"Merchants stole my hope. Might never smile or rage again."
Situation wasn't rosy.
27-year-old jobless NEET suddenly eating mold or dumpster diving?
Could I even?
More likely compromise till starvation claims me.
"Sigh."
But when in Rome, right?
Back alley survival meant sucking it up.
At the first bin, held my breath tight.
"Dive!"
Shoved left arm in, swirled fast.
A few months into possessing a roughly 13-year-old orphan in this fantasy world.
Humans adapt, huh?
I built a survival base quicker than expected.
"Whew, look at this rock-hard bread. Can't they use decent flour?"
Solid as those brick-smashing meme loaves online.
Not moldy, though.
Ate that crap a few days—stomach wrecked every third day, bedridden.
Switched tactics.
No more bin-diving for bread.
Street scraps from folks tossing it instead.
"Hm."
Glanced at the street from between ruined buildings.
Check it out.
People lining the road with bread displays like they got nothing better to do.
I whistled low.
Bread's for bellies, not shelves.
"Welcome!"
"One of these and one of those, please."
Some even pay for it.
Prob some shady underworld tax dodge I don't know about.
Infuriating—next bakery hit's gotta be that one.
"Ow, jaw hurts."
Soaked the stale loaf in rainwater from my last storm stash, gnawed it down.
Truth is, this bread, my whole setup...
All from others' pockets.
But hey, stealing's fair game to survive, right?
Morals? Conscience? Ethics?
Flew out with basic instincts.
Lucky me—not that hungry, so no pesky thoughts.
"Phew."
Chomped an hour to finish one hunk.
Moderately full, bored—prime time for shelved big thinks.
"Carbs covered. Fruit for lunch vitamins?"
Orphan perk: meal freedom.
Normies' eats depend on lucky meat or cheap street grub.
Me? Nah.
No food? Steal.
Hungry? Eat.
That's the sole upside of forced orphan tech tree.
"Time to move."
Got up, dusted butt off crumbling building awning—my gaze flicked there.
Crack big enough for me, so I dragged a discarded tarp from the dump, makeshift home.
Shoveled dirt over it for camo.
"Good."
Blended decent—slowly backed off.
Target: busted crate alley a ways off.
Stomped loud on purpose approaching—familiar voice hit.
"...What? Mealtime already?"
"Yeah, Foreigner hungry. Foreigner work."
"Bullshit."
"Ah, hi..."
Brown-haired siblings from a dusty tarp setup.
Month ago, solo limits hit—my biz partners.
Bern and Riel, around my age.
No loyalty, though. Back alleys? Everyone for themselves.
"...What? Starving lately? You're skin and bones."
Approached Bern, frowned sudden.
Not worry—biz partner flops, I starve too.
Bern waved weakly, fine-like.
"Huh? Nah, growth spurt maybe? Riel's hogging, so my share... Hmph!"
"......"
Bern's words—Riel, hiding behind, punched his side.
Thought she was timid, but alley-bred hands sting.
Eye contact, ducked back quick.
Hm, puberty girls touchy on weight.
"Then one each per person today."
"You sure? Three's risky—get caught, beat to hell."
"Got a way."
"Dane..."
"It's Dane."
Ugh, that rolling accent.
All foreign names around, now I'm Dane.
Feels like some noble—cringe overload.
"C'mon, got a spot scoped."
Chatted nonsense with Bern, alley trek—target quick.
Hid alley end corner, pointed cross-shop careful.
"Today's mark: Rebanshel's fruit stand."
"Rebanshel, yeah—due awhile."
"See? Crappy apples piled up. We process 'em."
Alley life: spot tiny shifts.
Don't wanna hit fresh-picked shop, end up knifed by guards, tomato juicer.
"Go."
Circled alley to Rebanshel's fruit back.
Nod signal—Riel moves first.
Timed street empty, she hit Rebanshel mid-gaze.
"Um..."
"...Yeah?"
"R-Rotten fruit okay, just one please?"
"Hah."
Me? Instant Korean soul-kick.
Her cute look? Girl? Rebanshel just scratched head awkward.
"Damn, reverse gender world? That'd be me, not Riel...!"
"...Huh?"
Ignored Bern's psycho stare, signaled.
Rebanshel eyes on Riel—Bern crept from back alley, neared fruits.
Riel saw, gestured him.
"Ah, hey! Over there!"
"Yeah? ...Wha— you little shit!"
Rebanshel chased fleeing Bern.
Bern ducked swipe flat, bolted alley.
'Now!'
No time mourn Bern's flop—I dove shop.
Rebanshel gone seconds, I snagged three near-rotten apples mid-pile quick.
Key: mids, not tops.
Restack casual—perfect.
Mission success.
Shoved 'em safe, full sprint alley depths.
Plan: scatter, regroup preset spot.
"What, why ain't she running?"
Glanced back fleeing—Riel, first to bolt, stood shop side.
Head down, chatting Rebanshel.
Trouble?
"Shit."
Crept close, ready chuck apples n' bail if needed.
'H-Helped you, so apple... just one...'
'...What? Haha, you nuts? Believe you ain't with that runner thief?'
'But he got nothing thanks to me...'
"Ah."
Riel clocked Bern empty-handed, me unseen snagging—bold ask her share.
Sharp eye might spot pile shift, but nah.
'...Fuck off with this. Don't come back.'
'Th-Thank you!'
Rebanshel tossed rotten apple annoyed.
Riel snagged last one tidy, entered alley—spotted me, flashed hers grinning sly.
I stared blank, nodded small.
"Why didn't I think of that."
"...?"
"Yeah, world's do-anything-for-food."
Kids starve daily here.
That shy little one's hustling hard.
Ditched shame, pride—risked kicks for guts.
For one mushy apple meal.
Could I?
"...That day, should've yanked bread from his mouth..."
"...!!! Y-You ate it...?"
"Nah, lacked guts to ditch my old values."
Missed trash grub? Starved dead.
Missed that chance? Lifetime regret.
Lonely death.
"N-No need eat that. Here..."
My face sour? Riel offered hers careful.
Juice-dripping mush apple.
I quietly topped mine on, handed back.
"You eat plenty. I ain't hungry."
"......"
"Lucky—full bellies today."
"...Yeah."
Riel and I headed preset spot.
Shared munch apple too sweet for me.
"H-Hey, that bread kid a girl...?"
"Nah, boy."
"Okay. Good..."