I Hate Cults. And Now I'm Back on Earth.
I hate cults.
My parents poured every last penny they had into one. That was back when I was five years old.
By the time I grew up and started elementary school, I still couldn't fit in with anyone. The other kids knew the situation at my house in terrifying detail. Thanks to that, I became the class outcast—bullied for having parents in a cult, for not having a real home.
Then one day, those so-called parents tried to sell me off because they had no more money left to offer. I overheard them in secret and ran away from home immediately. That's how I ended up completely alone.
The cold streets were brutally harsh on a little kid, but if I kept my wits about me, I could somehow survive. That was the story of my life before entering high school.
Time passed like that. I eventually became an adult, scraping together money with desperate determination. One day, while I was resting at home and drinking a cola, I collapsed and died. Probably from overwork. It was my twenty-ninth birthday.
...Or so went the story of my previous life.
The world I was reborn into had two major differences from the one I knew. The first was that this world was a fantasy realm completely unlike Earth. The second was that I was now a girl.
“Q-quiet down…!”
Clang!
And now, in this world, I had become an Inquisitor.
“...Huh?”
On the day I turned fifteen, I returned to Earth.