It was evening.
Alex was at the tavern.
Drinking.
Again.
His face was buried in a mug like it had personally wronged him. Beer dripped down his chin, his golden hair sticking to his forehead like he'd just come out of a shampoo commercial filmed in hell.
This was the same tavern old Alexander used to visit. Same wooden chairs, same cheap beer smell, same barmaid with big tits pretending not to notice him staring.
Except now, there was one big difference.
Old Alexander was dead.
New Alex was here.
And New Alex had no damn system.
"Damn it!"
He slammed the mug down so hard the table almost cried.
"What the hell, man! I wake up in a perfect harem starter pack, hot body, genius alchemist, rich dad, hot stepmom, bratty step-sisters, and even a shop under my feet, and no goddamn system?"
He grabbed the mug again, chugged half of it like he was trying to drown his disappointment.
"Come on! Where's the ding sound? Where's the blue screen? Where's the hot goddess telling me I'm the chosen one?"
The other customers turned their heads. Alex ignored them.
"I'm tanned, tall, hot, blonde, got the BBC, got the brain, got the drip, and I still don't get a damn status screen?!"
He slapped his chest dramatically.
"Look at me! I'm literally walking protagonist material! If this was a doujin, I'd be plowing the landlady by now! If this was a pornwha, I'd be stealing everyone's girlfriend by chapter three! If this was hanime…"
He paused, smirked.
"Actually, this already is hanime. I just need to start filming."
A drunk adventurer two tables away spat out his beer laughing.
Alex glared at him. "What are you laughing at? You think I'm not the chosen one? I am the chosen one, damn it!"
He grabbed the mug again, tilted it back, draining it to the last drop.
All the earlier antics of him not wanting a system was gone as quickly as it came. System was needed for growth as a protagonist.
"You seem down, Alex. What happened? And where are your buddies?"
The bartender leaned on the counter. Alex and his party had been regulars here, so seeing him alone, drinking cheap ale instead of fruit beer, was weird enough to ask.
Alex looked up at him with glassy eyes. Two pints in and he already looked like life had beaten him with a shovel.
"Let me ask you something, Mr. Bartender..."
Alex slurred, pointing a finger dramatically.
"If you woke up in a brand-new world, full of endless possibilities and sexy women, but had no clue why you were there, what would you do? Live like a god? Or sit there like an idiot trying to figure out the plot?"
The bartender blinked.
Yep. Kid was drunk.
"Haa! Drunk people are fun to hear!"
The bartender chuckled. He was the classic archetype — big beard, bigger belly, but strong enough to throw any drunk through a wall. Basically, a background character straight out of an RPG.
'So this is a novel?' Alex thought, then shook his head.
"For your question, Alex," the man said, stroking his mustache, "I believe you should try to understand why you were brought to this new world. For one, there must be a reason you were transported—"
"Transmigrated!" Alex corrected with a drunken hiccup.
"Yes, transmigrated, whatever that means. For the second, you can't be sure what this world is about. If you act carelessly, you'll be in trouble."
The bartender nodded, satisfied with his wisdom. It was the kind of answer that deserved a slow clap.
"Hmm… that's a good observation," Alex said, nodding sagely back. He looked like a drunk philosopher, beer froth still on his lips.
The truth? He didn't know jack about this world. Only that magic existed. He hadn't seen it yet because this street banned spellcasting—too crowded, too many idiots who might blow up a shop while sneezing.
This wasn't an adventurer street anyway. It was more of a rest stop, the highway inn of the kingdom. Full of merchants, travelers, and workers. Not heroes.
"What bullshit are you spewing, husband?"
The voice was soft, sweet, and full of trouble.
Alex turned his head.
It was Samantha — the bartender's wife — gliding in from the back with four goblets balanced like a pro.
Samantha was… well, Samantha. Wild, pretty, and very aware of it. Her brown eyes were sharp like a huntress, her light-brown hair tied loosely, and that blouse-apron combo looked one tug away from a scandal.
The apron was tight enough to draw attention — and oh boy, there was a lot of attention to draw — but since John the Bartender stood behind the counter like a bear with a club, nobody dared flirt with her.
Not that Alex didn't look.
He looked plenty.
"What? What did I say wrong?" John frowned.
Samantha leaned on the counter, her apron pulling just enough to make Alex's brain short-circuit.
"I think, if you wake up in a new world and there's no purpose… you should just do whatever the fuck you want."
Alex grinned, drunk and inspired.
"Thank you, Samantha. Your advice is as beautiful as you are."
"Awww."
She giggled, winked, and gave John's chest a playful smack as she passed him. The big man just grunted, used to her antics.
"My husband is stupid. Don't ask advice from him. If you need anything, come to noona. She'll answer all your questions."
Samantha winked and walked away.
Alex's eyes automatically followed her hips as they swayed. Not too much, not too little. Just enough to make his little brother salute under the table.
John crossed his arms, glaring at her retreating back. "Hey! I'm not stupid, stupid woman! Hmph!"
He huffed, ran a hand through his beard, then looked back at Alex with a sigh.
"A wild, rowdy woman, huh?"
Alex smirked. "I bet it's fun with her."
John grinned, showing all his teeth. "Ha! Kid, you have no idea."
Alex had no idea.
But he intended to find out.
'Question is,' he thought, leaning on the counter with a grin, 'what advice should I ask noona first? Life advice? Love advice? Or straight-up seduction tips for stealing her from you?'
His grin widened.
'Yeah… that one sounds fun.'