Ep.2 - To the Kingdom of Albator (1)
Ep.2 - To the Kingdom of Albator (1)
*
Four wagons.
Dozens of knights marched in orderly formation between them.
One was a prisoner transport wagon, and the other three carried supplies for the knight order—
but one of those wagons held something unexpected, something that had never been part of the original plan.
"Hoooh..."
The cargo was a person.
Not someone in their early twenties... but a young man who looked to be in his mid-teens.
If things had gone as they should have, he would have had the heavy, bulky frame of a gym regular—a solid, well-built man—
but after crossing into this other world, his body had been sculpted into something closer to a meticulously maintained male idol trainee. His name was Delin.
Knight Commander Neva, after defeating Philmark and returning, gave an order to her knights:
[Distribute the food supplies from this wagon onto each of your horses, and clear out the space so this gentleman here can lie down and travel.]
"Hoooh..."
Thanks to that command, Delin now was resting comfortably, his body laid out in the wagon courtesy of the knights' consideration.
His body rested on soft cloth, racked with a tingling, aching pain. In his dazed mind, the bandits' hideout flickered like an afterimage.
Life there had been like a dream.
Not a good kind of dream, of course—it was closer to a long, unending nightmare.
The constant sexual exploitation that scrambled his brain, the terrifying oppression and control worse than anything found even in the military...
Well, he had never actually served, so he was a draft dodger—but anyway, he could confidently say it was worse than the military. For real.
The only difference was that instead of men, it was women doing the exploiting?
To say it was hell every single moment would be a lie, but spending most of his time as a sex slave, being the target of mockery and ridicule—that was definitely not a happy way to live.
Sure, there were probably some people out there who would enjoy being squeezed dry by women, but Delin did not have those tastes, so he had hit his mental limit many times over.
And what truly terrified him was the crazed look in Philmark's eyes—the one he had faced until the very end. And the bloodlust and love he had felt within that gaze.
Delin was far too confused to understand how bloodlust and love could be felt at the same time.
The love he had seen,
or dreamed of,
was nothing but the pure and noble kind—a man and a woman meeting naturally, nurturing affection for one another.
He had believed that kind of love—where two people cherish and care for each other—would find him someday.
So why had he fallen into this insane world and ended up suffering like this...?
"..."
He squeezed his eyes shut and clawed at his hair. Stress and anxiety seemed to be driving the action.
He had cleared one crisis, but not a single shred of psychological stability came with it. The future still looked bleak.
A heart that had crashed into a massive wall could not seem to regain its strength, and a pride that had been brutally shattered felt like it had been snapped clean in two.
And so he reminisced about the past.
Not the hideout—he thought about Earth, that warm and familiar hometown.
"...Hoooh..."
Back there, he had lived a fairly ordinary life.
He was an ordinary guy, studied like everyone else, hung out like everyone else, lived in an ordinary house with an ordinary family.
If there was anything slightly special about him, it was that, unlike other guys, he had fairly pale and delicate features. And that he had a somewhat androgynous personality to match.
Of course, that did not mean anyone bullied or made fun of him. He was just the occasional target of some light teasing.
But to him, that tiny trait loomed as an enormous complex, a glaring flaw.
Every glance and every look from the people around him always felt like they were glaring at him, cursing him in their heads. That was how it felt to him.
When the girls would chatter about him,
saying things like
'His skin's so nice for a guy,'
'He's like a little brother, so cute,'
'I just want to hug him,'
his insides would burn up every single time.
Why am I the only one who gets those comments?
The other guys don't.
Why?
Why...
The question of why always burrowed into him.
Ah. A complex, festering deep in the heart—in the end, it always eats away at a person.
There are no exceptions.
Everyone carries a weakness in their heart as they live.
You might feel stupid,
you might feel broke,
you might feel unattractive,
you might feel like you have no potential,
you might feel like your personality is shit,
you might feel like you're strange,
you might feel like you're just wasting time,
...
...
But not many people make peace with those weaknesses.
Most people avoid them, or refuse to accept that the weakness exists, turning their eyes away from reality.
But Delin had tried to overcome his weakness. That was the kind of man he was.
He figured if he honed his body and bulked up, no one would ever tease him for looking like a girl again. So he started hitting the gym in high school.
And thanks to his relentless effort, he not only reached a point where he could lift weights that drew people's stares, but he also gained a sturdy, imposing frame that let him flaunt his masculinity. (Of course, the people around him did not really think he looked manly.)
To him, muscle had been a weapon—the ultimate escape hatch that filled the void of his own frailty.
"Fuck..."
But here, all those solid muscles of his had turned into lean, pretty muscle that only looked beautiful.
There was absolutely nowhere left for him to lean on.
The moment he had been captured by the bandits, unable to move a finger, and eaten alive—he had already been broken.
The [Cultivate a Manly Spirit] routine he had thrown himself into every single day after building a healthy body had been shattered to pieces by merciless reverse-rape.
And phrases like [True Manly Sex] that he had fervently wished for, driven by his unconscious desire to fill his complex—they had not left a single trace behind.
Even when he would jerk off on purpose, he had only watched one-on-one vanilla JAV or stuff with Rape and Forced tags...!
Even if it made him frown, he had browsed every trashy smut fantasy and smut thriller on Novelpia, hypnotizing himself, giving himself autosuggestions...!
"...Save."
[Save point set!]
No.
Get rid of these weak thoughts.
I can't just stay collapsed like this, crying and wailing like some little girl.
Crying doesn't solve anything.
In the end, all it does is make your heart heavy and make you hate yourself...!
I'm different from before...!
I'm a grown-ass adult, a sturdy man!
Alright.
I'll do it.
I'll escape this stupid-ass world just to spite them, and when I get back to my original world, I'm gonna slap that author bastard across the face, nice and clean.
Just as Delin was steeling his resolve once more, the wagon came to a stop, and someone knocked on it.
Knock, knock—
"Delin-ssi?"
"Ah, yes...!"
Delin hurriedly turned his head toward the sound.
"Ah, oh dear! Pl-please... don't mind me. I was just... wondering if you had any discomfort, so I came by for a moment... ahem. Hmm!"
The visitor was Neva.
The same woman who, just moments ago, had been bleeding profusely while protecting him—now her face was flushed bright red, her eyes darting nervously around.
"I'm not uncomfortable anywhere. Thank you for saving me. I almost died back there."
"D-don't mention it. I merely did what was proper as a knight. Um..."
'What's with her?'
Watching her act so bashful, Delin pondered what could be wrong for a moment—then he noticed that it was not just Neva. The knights around them were also staring at him with dazed expressions.
Their gazes drifted toward his defenselessly exposed collarbone and the nape of his neck, and a few of them were even stealing glances further down.
"H-here, at least put this on. You lot! What are you looking at!"
Neva hastily covered the wagon entrance with her body and handed Delin what looked like a large piece of cloth.
When he unfolded it, he saw crude holes for the neck and arms—probably holes Neva had made herself.
"Thank you..."
Delin hurriedly pulled the scrap of cloth on like clothes and covered himself. For the first time since arriving in this other world, he was not naked.
Only after Delin had covered his body did Neva let out a sigh of relief and step aside from the entrance.
"N-no, it's nothing. I simply don't carry spare men's clothing with me, so I can only apologize for offering you something so crude."
"No, I'm satisfied with this. Thank you for your consideration."
"..."
"..."
At those words, their conversation faltered, a brief, awkward silence settling between them.
The one who broke that silence was Neva.
"Um, well...! You don't need to worry anymore. My subordinates and I will take responsibility and cut off Philmark's head, so you'll never have to face her again."
"Ah, yes..."
At the mention of beheading, Delin hesitated for a moment.
Sure, this was the woman who had tried to kill him. But still—a woman whose skin had been pressed against his own just a few hours ago... was going to die.
"...Thank you."
Still, he did not try to stop it. He was not in a position to be losing sleep over someone dying. Just moments ago, he had been the one in mortal danger, so...
"Please, come with us to Albator. We will escort you there safely."
Neva clasped her hands together and brought them to her chest, gazing steadily at Delin with an expression that said, 'Just leave it to me.'
Her entire body was wrapped tightly in bandages, but her eyes held not a single tremor...
"...Would that really be okay?"
"Of course. Helping others is a knight's greatest honor—nothing surpasses it. So please, do not refuse, and come with us."
"...I'll be in your care."
"Ah, understood! From now on, just... no, just trust us."
Neva smiled brightly beyond her slightly flushed face.
It was a truly pure and clear smile.