What Will You Do?
I opened my eyes and found I had become a devastatingly handsome man. Up to that point, I was perfectly satisfied. The problem was that this place happened to be the inside of a romance fantasy novel I was sick to death of.
It took me about two months to accept this absurd reality and realize I was living inside a story.
What did I do for those two months?
I had to eat, so I walked into the first café I found and got myself hired. Landing the job was shockingly easy. There was an ugly rumor that this town did not take kindly to orphans or outsiders, but the owner looked me up and down and said exactly one word.
"You're hired."
Last life or this one, looksism seemed to be an unchanging law of the universe.
Did I hate that?
Not in the slightest. Honestly, I loved it.
All I had to do was stand there and take orders, and the women customers flushed and stole shy glances at me. Being slipped a silver coin and told it was a tip was perfectly ordinary, and now and then someone even gifted me bread or flowers. Toss out the most worthless joke imaginable, and laughter cascaded around me like a waterfall.
So this was the life of an S-tier celebrity.
Even so, this ridiculously sweet existence had one fatal flaw.
"Won't you have dinner with me?"
How wonderful it would have been if the person saying that were a pretty young lady of twenty. The problem was that the woman sending me that sticky gaze was a baroness in her fifties, her face creased with wrinkles no amount of powder could hide.
"......"
Damn it.
This sort of thing happened often enough—people who could not act their age throwing me looks and making demands. For a moment, the unfiltered truth that had skipped my brain entirely surged all the way up my throat.
Maybe pay a little more attention to your husband, Grandma!
I swallowed the words just in time. This was not Korea. If a commoner spoke carelessly to a noble, he could be charged with insulting the aristocracy and end up with his head on a pike.
I put on the most exhausted, worn-out expression I could manage and bowed my head.
"Your kindness does me true honor, my lady... but tonight is simply impossible."
"What?"
"As you can see, I am of humble birth, and after standing all day my legs are shaking. I could not possibly disgrace a noble table looking like this. I beg your generous forgiveness."
As servile as possible. As polite as possible. Using my station to slip away was the best move I had.
The corner of the baroness's mouth twitched. She had no grounds to lose her temper outright, though, so she forced a smile.
"If you're tired, it can't be helped. Take good care of yourself. We'll be seeing a great deal more of each other."
That last line sent a chill down my spine.
A great deal more of each other. That was as good as a declaration of war.
I bowed her out, then packed my bags that very day. What if that old hag got angry and sent soldiers to kidnap me? Just because I had only ever seen that sort of thing in a novel did not mean it could not become real.
Of course, it was not a purely impulsive decision. I had meant to head for the capital as soon as I had saved enough money anyway. It was only a little regrettable that the timetable had moved up by two weeks.
Clatter, clatter. The battered carriage tore along the dirt road without a shred of mercy. My backside felt ready to split and my lower back ached, but my heart was light enough to fly.
I stuck my head out the window and looked up. A blue so clear it almost rang, with cotton-candy clouds drifting overhead.
The capital must be crawling with heroines. Are they really goddess-tier, the way the novel described them?
A laugh slipped out of me.
Yes. The world I had fallen into was an academy romance fantasy I had once loved to read—the sort where the protagonist, Leon, overcomes every hardship and trial, then triumphs over evil alongside a cast of distinctive heroines.
And me?
An extra like me was better off watching the show and helping himself to the sweets. Whether the protagonist rolled through the mud or not, whether the world fell into danger or not, I intended to use this cheat of a face and suck up every last drop of honey there was.
First goal: thirty romances. After that, I would meet a woman as cute and kind as a rabbit, settle somewhere quiet in the countryside, and live in peace. Was there a more perfect life than that?
"Lad."
I had been mapping out my future inside the rattling carriage when a low, weighty voice came from the driver's seat ahead.
"What do you plan to do in the capital?"
Like the rough hands guiding the horses, his manner of speaking was blunt.
"Hard to say. I was thinking of finding café work again."
"With a face like that, living an ordinary life might be too much to ask."
The coachman said it in an indifferent tone.
"Might be wiser to catch some young lady's eye and change your fortunes."
"Are you telling me to become a kept man?"
"No need to be picky about the means when you're changing your fate."
"The gap in status is heaven and earth. There's no way that would work."
"Not impossible. Rare as they are, there have been cases."
My ears perked up at that, and at the same time a chill went through me. Nothing in this world came free.
"And what were that commoner's specs, exactly?"
"...Specs?"
Damn. Modern slang had slipped out again.
"I mean, what did the man do? His station, or the like."
"I heard he was a knight commander."
"See? Exactly."
At my reply, the coachman fell silent for a moment.
"I'm a mere café server, and he was a knight commander protecting the country. Comparing us is absurd to begin with. Get caught just dating, and my head would roll."
In that instant, a horrible image flashed through my mind. I am secretly enjoying a romance with a noble young lady when, one day, her fiancé bursts in wearing gleaming armor. Then, without so much as a hello, he demands a duel and—chop—off comes my head.
Just thinking about it was awful.
"If human nobles are too difficult, what about another race? They aren't bound by the human order of rank."
"There are other races?"
A faint puzzlement crept into the coachman's voice.
"...Lad. You know far too little of the world. Humans are not the only ones living on this continent."
Ah. Right.
This was a fantasy world of swords, magic, and rampaging monsters. My basic common sense was still stuck in the modern age, so now and then I made mistakes like this.
"Mister."
"What."
"If I married another race—elves, say—wouldn't I have to live somewhere like a forest?"
"A fair price for a beautiful wife."
"But if I went to the forest, wouldn't there be plenty of other elves too?"
"They mostly live in communities, so yes."
That was it. The heart of my problem.
"Then what if all those elves fall for me?"
"......"
"I hear elves may be beautiful, but their possessiveness and obsession are something else."
Instead of answering, the coachman turned his head and glanced at me. His expressionless face seemed to say everything.
"...A reasonable worry. With that face, it's entirely possible."
He admitted it in a solemn voice.
"I hear some elves allow more than one partner. You don't want that either?"
"I don't!"
I shouted it from the heart.
"I want exactly one wife, cute and gentle as a rabbit, and a cozy, peaceful life with her. I never want to see women grabbing each other by the hair and fighting over me."
I heaved a sigh and went on.
"Just imagine it. One day I open my eyes and I'm shut in someplace like a dark, damp cave, hands and feet bound. Outside, elves are fighting with swords over who gets to have me. And I spend the rest of my life being kept like livestock."
"......"
At my sincere appeal, the coachman said nothing.
"Isn't that horrifying?"
"...Quite the imagination."
"Well, I am handsome."
"Hah..."
The coachman—no, the mister—shook his head as if he truly could not understand.
"Don't go saying things like that just anywhere. Depending on who's listening, it can sound like mockery."
"I know. I'm only talking this freely because it's just the two of us."
As I answered, I casually looked him over from head to toe.
And then—
...Huh?
Something was off. Until now I had taken him for an ordinary coachman and paid him no mind, but looking closely, the clothes he wore were not a commoner's. They were faded by the sun and filmed with dust, yet the cloth itself looked quite fine. The embroidery on the lining, glimpsed whenever he moved, was no ordinary needlework.
And that was not all. His hands were clean in a way that did not suit rough coachman's work, and the back that drove the horses was not hunched but straight. His looks, and the air he carried, were far too neat and far too dignified for a commoner worn down by labor.
"Mister."
"What."
"You're not an ordinary coachman, are you?"
Talking around things is not my style. I asked him outright.
A faint smile caught at the corner of his mouth.
"Only just noticed, have you? All this time, you really thought I was nothing but a coachman?"
"I paid you, and you said you'd give me a ride. Isn't it only natural to think you're a coachman?"
"Now that is what you call a preconception, lad."
"Then who are you?"
He seemed to choose his words for a moment, then answered indifferently.
"A count."
I blinked.
What had he just said? A count?
This mister... is a high noble?
Was this words, or was it nonsense? Why was a count personally driving a miserable wreck of a carriage like this?
"Why is a noble traveling alone, without a single guard?"
"Because I don't need one."
"Why not?"
"I may not look it, but I used to command the Imperial Knights. What reason would I have for an escort?"
A count, and a former commander of the Imperial Knights. Puzzle pieces seemed to click together in my head, and my heart started to pound.
No way. No—no way.
"May I ask your name?"
"Garen Valmore."
Insane. Actually insane.
My mouth fell open.
Garen Valmore! The very man in this novel who becomes the steadfast ally of the protagonist, Leon!
He must have seen my face, because Garen let out a short laugh.
"That look tells me you know my name."
"Of course I do! It would be strange if I didn't! The knight commander who led the Imperial Knights! In his youth he set countless young ladies whispering with scandal, and though he was a hell-raiser once, after he met his wife he became a romantic and a devoted husband like no other! And on top of that—!"
"Enough! I know, so that's enough."
Garen cut me off with a sigh, as if he had heard more than enough.
"Hah. I didn't take you for it, but you've quite the talkative streak. Women who like a man like that are rare."
At that, I brought two fingers up beneath my chin, as if sketching a V.
"Even looking at this face, you think they'd dislike me?"
"...I can't argue with that."
Garen let out a hollow laugh, genuinely at a loss.
"I hate to admit it, but you've a finer face than any man I've seen in my life."
"Well, of course. A goddess must have shaped me, stitch by careful stitch."
"Hah. Keep boasting like that and you'll catch a knife in the street before long."
He said it like sincere advice. I shrugged.
"Come on, I don't talk like this to anyone but people I'm comfortable with. And my luck's pretty good."
"Luck?"
"Yes. If I'm about to get pickpocketed in the street, people catch the thief for me. Walk into a restaurant and the chef says he's developing a new dish and brings the food out free. Sometimes an innkeeper says I'm like a son and lets me stay without paying..."
"Enough, enough."
Garen waved a hand and stopped me.
"That isn't luck. People look at your face and start harboring designs."
"Heh heh."
I laughed, wicked and pleased. Honestly, I knew it all—just how kind and generous this world was to me.
This is an alpha male's life. Existence on easy mode.
No need to think it through. No need to struggle and scrape. Just stand still, and the world flowed in my favor all on its own.
Then the humor left Garen's face. The grave expression of a former knight commander showed through.
"Prices in the capital are steep. Have you set aside enough money?"
"I'll get a job when I get there. Honestly, with this face, you think I won't make money?"
"Ugh... do stop. Any more of this and my ears will start to bleed."
Garen pressed a hand to his brow for a moment, then came to the point.
"Let me offer you a bit of high-paying work."
"High-paying work? What would I have to do? How much are you offering?"
My eyes lit up.
"I'll tell you the duties in time. For now, the terms are full room and board, and ten gold a week. What do you say?"
Ten gold a week. Forty gold a month. If I loosely converted one gold of this world into the money I used to know, it came to about a hundred dollars, which made it four thousand a month. Prices here were cheap besides, so the real value would be even higher. An ordinary knight grinding away on a provincial estate earned a little over twenty gold a month, so this was double that—an exceptional offer.
But.
"Hmm... I'm not particularly tempted."
"Why not? Terms like these would be hard to find anywhere."
"When I worked at a café out in the provinces, I made over fifty gold a month, tips included. The capital will obviously pay even more, so I don't especially feel like working for less."
A lie, of course. Even with every tip counted, I had barely cleared thirty gold. But wasn't bluffing the first rule of negotiation?
"...You really do live an easy life."
"You flatter me."
"Then how much would it take to satisfy you?"
There it was.
"For a start, I don't think we can even talk unless it's a hundred gold a month."
"...Not even the elite of the Imperial Knights make that much."
Disbelief filled Garen's voice. I went on, perfectly calm.
"And I have a condition."
"A condition, on top of that?"
"Yes. A very important one. Absolutely necessary."
"...Let's hear it, then."
I smiled brightly.
"Let me quit whenever I want. Honestly, being tied to a contract for years is the one thing I can't stand."
The mere thought of burying my bones in one place for two years, the way military service worked—or ten years, or twenty, if my luck was bad—was horrifying. It would throw a serious wrench into my grand plan of enjoying romance with countless beauties.
The moment he heard me, Garen's expression hardened, just a fraction. The leisurely manner in which he had been answering was gone without a trace.
Don't tell me this mister had actually meant to work me for years.
Figures. No way a high noble offers a favor like this with nothing expected in return.
I hid what I was thinking and smiled wide.
"What will you do, Count?"
Garen's mouth slowly opened.