Life is All About Timing
Life is all about timing. You know that common saying, don't you? Life is all about timing.
It's true when buying and selling stocks, it's true in the push-and-pull of romance, it's true when a pitcher throws a meatball with bases loaded and two outs in the bottom of the ninth, and it's true during a five-on-five team fight in the mid lane. In the end, a single moment dictates the course of your life.
No matter how welcome an event might be, if it doesn't happen at the right time, it only makes you curse up a storm internally.
So, why the long-winded speech? Because the situation I'm in right now is exactly like that.
"Are you out of your mind?!"
On a warm, peaceful spring afternoon with the sunlight streaming in, I blinked my eyes open, startled awake by someone's scream-like shout.
Huh? Did I fall asleep at my desk?
But this desk looked far too luxurious to be mine.
The craftsmanship was exquisite, and the surface was so polished it looked as though someone had spent hours waxing and buffing it.
"Ah, so now you don't even plan on explaining yourself?"
Dazedly, I ran my hand over the desk.
It was so slick that if a fly landed on it, it would probably slip and pull off a triple axel.
Slam!
"You—!"
The sound of someone slamming their hands down on the desk. I snapped my head up and looked at the owner of the voice.
A woman. Was she in her early or mid-twenties? I wondered if I had ever seen anyone so beautiful in my entire life.
She was a blue-eyed woman with rich, gorgeous golden hair that flowed down to her waist.
Her sapphire-like blue eyes were beautiful, but they burned with a terrifying rage.
"Fine. If you're just going to sit there like an idiot without offering a single explanation, then I'm leaving this damn party too. It would be much better for me to go look for Aryen than to stay with you."
This damn party? Aryen?
Right then, completely independent of my will, my mouth opened.
"Who said you could leave this party?"
What the fuck is up with this greasy voice?
Even though it came out of my own mouth, it was a low, incredibly greasy, self-absorbed voice that made me want to clamp my hand over my lips immediately.
I hadn't meant to say it, but upon hearing my words, the woman snorted in disbelief.
"Ha! Who said? I did. You can't bind me. You should know that well enough."
"Wait—"
The moment I finally regained control of my own mouth, I spoke in a hurry.
But the woman shook her head, as if I wasn't even worth listening to.
Her golden hair swayed and shimmered with the movement.
"Enough. I don't want to hear another word. Unless you want to cause friction with the Holy Kingdom, don't try to stop me, and don't follow me."
Whoosh. She turned on her heel and walked away.
The door to what appeared to be an office opened, then shut.
The golden-haired woman didn't look back even once until the door clicked shut.
The clicking of her heels gradually faded down the hallway.
"...What a complete mess."
Another bitter voice. It was a man's.
Turning my head toward the sound, I saw a rugged giant of a man occupying a corner of the room, staring at me.
"Banishing Aryen was one thing, but now even Isis has left. That's two people gone."
Aryen, Isis. The protagonist, the Saintess. And a giant man who seemed strangely familiar.
My frozen brain began to spin rapidly.
Uh, wait. Is this that 'transmigration' thing I've only ever read about...? Hold on. Who did I banish, and who left?
And why is he saying all this while looking directly at me?
To my frozen brain, the giant delivered the final, crushing blow.
"So, what are you going to do now, Hero?"
Oh, fuck. I'm doomed.