Leaving the house was my first mistake.
I knew it the moment the door clicked shut behind me with that damning little sound, as if it said, "you're going to regret this, idiot."
And it was right.
I hadn't gone out in three days. I'd survived on cold rice, black garlic potatoes, and blind faith that I wouldn't have to move more than a meter from the bed. But this time… the Ramune was gone. And the last melon popsicle had died the night before, in a ritual of sugar and depression.
"Five minutes," I told myself, sliding on my sandals like someone putting on shackles. "I'll just cross the street, buy what I need, and get back before the sun tries to cook me alive."
Spoiler: the sun did try to cook me alive.
I don't know if it was the asphalt, the hot air like soup, or my own bad karma, but by the third step I was sweating in places I'd rather not mention. I crossed the park, dodged a lady with a psychopathic dog, and finally—there it was: the convenience store, blessed with air conditioning and snack promos at the entrance.
I almost made it.
I was waiting at the corner, right by the crosswalk, when a little girl tripped in front of me. Small, with a pink bow and a backpack bigger than she was. Her mother was a little ahead, distracted by her phone.
I saw the exact moment the girl lost her balance, her feet skidding right at the edge of the street.
And without thinking—seriously, not even for a microsecond—I lunged for her.
I gave her a gentle push toward the sidewalk. The mother screamed. The girl shrieked. All good so far.
Except I heard something.
A roar.
An engine.
I turned.
And there it was.
A bright red delivery truck taking the corner like the driver had mistaken the city for a Gran Turismo track.
It didn't slow down.
It didn't brake.
It didn't even seem to see me.
"You've got to be kidding—!"
I had time to think three things:
Is this an isekai cliché?
Am I really going to die because of a drink with a glass marble?
Damn it!
And then the world went white.
Total silence.
As if someone had switched the universe off.
First there was the silence.
Then a faint hum. Like the noise old lights make in hospital waiting rooms.
I opened my eyes.
White. Everything was white. Not an elegant or heavenly white. Functional white, administrative white. Public office white. Postmortem bureaucratic-white.
"Am I dead?" I asked the air.
"Technically yes, but come on, no need to sound so dramatic," a female voice answered, just as interested as a postal clerk at six p.m.
I turned. There was nothing. Just… white space. But then she appeared: a young woman floating effortlessly, with the aura of someone who hasn't slept enough and is underpaid. Her bun was half-done, her uniform wrinkled. In one hand a transparent tablet floated; in the other she held a steaming travel mug.
"Who…?"
"Liria Orthea. Celestial Administrator, Rank 3. Temporary Reincarnations. Day Shift. And I've got a break in eight minutes," she said in one breath, like she was reading from an invisible business card.
I looked her up and down. Goddess, sure. But with a customer service face.
"That's what a deity looks like?"
"That's what a soul fit for reincarnation looks like?" she snapped back.
Point for her.
"Is this heaven?"
"No. It's an interdimensional processing space. We decide what to do with you here. You're dead, yes. Truck. Head-on. Poor kid. Nice gesture. You've got positive karma credit. You qualify for reincarnation with optional benefits."
"I got hit by a truck?"
"Red. Shady brand. Drunk driver. He'll die in five minutes too. Sounds fair, right?"
I scratched my head. I still had my neko T-shirt and pajama pants. Floating in existential limbo in house clothes.
"So now what?"
Liria tapped her tablet and a floating interface appeared in front of me, designed like a cheap video game.
"Here are your options. Class, skill, bonus… the basics."
"This feels like a badly made character select screen."
"It was designed by an angel who used to work on mobile games. Your turn to choose."
\[Select your CLASS]:
Warrior – Mage – Archer – Cleric – Random
My finger slid to "Cleric" without much thought.
"I like not having to fight on the front lines."
"Or because your physical stats are pathetic," she commented, sipping her mug.
A new screen appeared:
\[Select a skill]:
Slow Heal – Sacred Protection – Weak Luck – Spiritual Sight – None
"What happens if I pick 'None'?"
"You receive a random item. Level undetermined. It could be useful. Or not."
"I'll go with that."
Liria raised an eyebrow.
"Sure about that?"
"The worst that can happen is I get a stick with nails."
"Famous last words."
She pressed the button. The interface flickered. A message appeared:
Congratulations, Mizuki Aihara! You have received the legendary item:
"Zerat'Xiel, the Excommunicated Celestial Staff (SSS-Class – Forbidden – Cursed – Quadruple Seal – Non-Refundable)"
"…What the hell?"
"I don't have time for this," Liria said, stowing her tablet into nothingness. "Good luck. Really. Not everyone survives the first 48 hours. But if you do… maybe you'll get a decent outfit."
"What is that staff?! Why excommunicated?"
"Oh right, almost forgot. Don't try to kiss it. It electrocutes you."
And with that, she shoved me with an invisible finger.
I fell.
Literally. As if the white space had decided it'd had enough.
And as I fell, as the white became more and more… less white, I could only think:
"I hate this crappy isekai."
Falling wasn't like in dreams. It wasn't soft. It wasn't cinematic. It was a hard jolt, like being tossed off a building onto a mattress of compacted dirt.
I opened my eyes. Blinked. Again.
Blue sky.
Slow clouds.
A solitary tree in the distance. A couple of gentle mountains. Grass so bright it looked like someone had run a magic vacuum over the whole field.
"Great," I muttered. "I'm in a nineteenth-century pastoral painting."
I sat up slowly.
And then I noticed.
"Why am I naked?"
Yes. Naked. Not "in underwear," no. Naked. The goddess had dropped me into a new world in my birthday suit. Not even a fig leaf. Nothing.
Covering myself with my arms as best I could, I staggered to my feet and looked around for anything, anything at all: a rock, a forgotten garment, a prudish bush. And then an electronic sound pinged in my head. Like a microwave ding.
A floating screen appeared in front of me.
\[Status of Aihara Mizuki – Reincarnated]
Level: 1
Class: Cleric
HP: 5 / 5
MP: 4 / 4
Strength: 1
Dexterity: 1
Intelligence: 1
Spirit: 1
Luck: 1
Charisma: 1
I ran my eyes down each line slowly.
"…One? Everything is one?"
I stared at the screen again, in case there was a refresh button. Nothing.
"What am I, a magic earthworm?"
I slid my finger down. Another ping.
Active skills: None
Passive skills: "Uselessly Persistent" (Rank E-)
Equipment: None
Inventory: Empty
Reputation: 0
System comments: "Good luck (you'll need it)"
"I want to speak to Human Resources."
And right then, something fell from the sky.
Well, not fell. It slammed down. With a WHUMP, a column of light descended from the sky like the universe itself was in a hurry. An object stuck into the ground about five meters away, shaking the earth.
It was a staff. Tall. Black. Gold inlays giving off a faint blue glow. At the top, a sort of crystal hovered suspended inside a metal frame shaped like broken wings. It was clearly cursed. Clearly important. Clearly dangerous.
I approached cautiously.
"Are you… that legendary item?"
I set my hand on the staff.
A surge of magic shot up my arm. A strange pressure lodged itself behind my eyes.
And a voice, inside my head, deep, arrogant, dripping with disdain, said:
"…You? You're my new bearer?"
"Oh no. It talks."
"What kind of… what kind of joke is this? Where are my summoners? Where is the ritual sacrifice? The epic music? Why am I… with you?"
"Believe me, the disappointment is mutual."
The staff made a sound like a sigh.
"My name is Zerat'Xiel, the Excommunicated Celestial Staff, Worldbreaker, Scourge of the Heavens. And you… you are a naked girl with the spirit of a cockroach."
"Technically I'm nineteen," I corrected.
"Technically you're pathetic."
"Is there a user manual? An off switch?"
"My power is sealed. And the contract is incomplete. I cannot execute even 1% of my power without a worthy bearer."
"And what am I supposed to do?"
"Prove you are capable."
We fell silent.
The wind blew. A little bird chirped in the distance.
I was still naked, holding an egotistical staff that sounded like a philosophy professor with a god complex.
"At least tell me how to use you," I asked.
"Have you considered praying?"
"Have you considered shutting up?"
Zerat'Xiel glowed faintly.
"Compatibility trial begins. First objective: survive twenty-four hours. Reward: clothing."
"Is this a joke from the system?"
A new screen popped up in front of me.
Quest started!
Objective: Survive 24 hours without dying.
Reward: Basic clothing (probably an ugly linen robe).
"This world hates me," I whispered.
"And so do I," said the staff.
The first ten minutes of my new life were… uncomfortable.
First, because I was naked. Second, because tall grass isn't as soft as it looks in movies. Third, because I discovered I'm allergic to certain magic flowers that cause rashes in places no one wants to discuss.
And fourth—this is important—because apparently slimes are far more aggressive than popular iconography suggests.
"What is that?" I asked, pointing at a green gelatinous mass bouncing toward me from afar.
"A Rapid-Digestion Gel. Level three. Low class. Zero intelligence. High aggressiveness. Its slime dissolves clothing," Zerat'Xiel replied in a bored tone.
"I don't have clothes!"
"Then it will dissolve you directly."
I backed up.
The slime looked cheerful. It bounced enthusiastically. Maybe it just wanted a hug.
"Can I kill it with a rock?"
"No."
"Can I run?"
"With your Agility stat at one? I wouldn't. Your speed is equivalent to that of an old cat with arthritis."
"Then do something!"
"I'm sealed. I told you. Without a contract, I can't release my abilities."
"What if I throw you like a stick?"
"TRY THAT AND SEE IF I DON'T ELECTROCUTE YOU, YOU APE WITH OPPOSABLE THUMBS!"
The slime came closer. I could smell it now. Literally. It smelled like fermented custard with vinegar.
I took a step back and tripped over a root. I fell on my butt. The staff landed on my stomach. Then, by accident, I grabbed it with both hands right in the middle.
A sharp crack sounded in the air.
"Oh no… no, no, DON'T TOUCH THAT SEAL—!"
Too late.
A beam of light shot from the crystal at the tip of the staff. It whistled like a heavenly lightning bolt… and then it exploded.
But not a normal explosion. No. This was the mother of all magical explosions.
The ground trembled. The grass charred. The slime vanished in a flash of pure divine energy. A tree spontaneously burst into flames. The sky turned purple for two seconds. A distant owl screeched "WHAT?!" in owl language and fainted.
I lay on my back, hair smoking, the taste of lightning on my tongue.
"What… was… that?"
Zerat'Xiel sounded somewhere between amused and offended.
"YOU JUST TRIGGERED A NUCLEAR-CATEGORY SPELL IN BEGINNER MODE! DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS?!"
"That… I won?"
"THAT THE SYSTEM HAS DETECTED ME! NOW THEY'LL HAVE TO RECLASSIFY YOU AS A POTENTIALLY DANGEROUS ENTITY! GREAT JOB, LITTLE NAKED HELLSPAWN!"
A new notification blinked in front of me.
You have defeated: Rapid-Digestion Gel!
+8 EXP
You leveled up to 2!
You received: Basic clothing (by divine pity)!
A simple linen robe fell from the sky—the kind background NPCs wear in villages.
"Finally," I whispered, pulling it on with trembling hands. "I was one step away from using grass as a bra."
Zerat'Xiel snorted.
"One of these days you'll destroy a city just by sneezing."
"Would that be bad?"
"That would be standard, apparently."
And so, fifteen minutes after reincarnating, I had already caused a magic crater, leveled up, and earned a robe that barely covered my knees.
"This is officially more ridiculous than my last life."
"And it's only beginning," said the staff.
I walked for hours.
And by "walked" I mean dragged myself along a dirt path while I complained out loud, scratched my arms because of the bites, and tried not to let the wind lift the only thing I could call clothing: a cheap linen robe that smelled like incense and failure.
The staff, of course, wouldn't shut up.
"The way you walk is offensive to the divine balance."
"I'm tired."
"And yet you do not die. Fascinating."
"Can you stop talking for five minutes?"
"No. Silence with you would be a crime against cosmic entertainment."
After cresting a hill, I finally saw it.
A city.
At the bottom of the valley, surrounded by a low stone wall, sprawled Grindale: wooden rooftops, smoking chimneys, a church tower, and what I guessed was a large central square. Fields with crops, mills, and carts going in and out through the gates. Music drifted from somewhere. People talked. It was… quaint.
It was also completely alien to me.
"Should I pretend to be an adventurer?" I asked Zerat'Xiel.
"You should pretend to be something more than a lump in a robe."
I sighed.
As I got closer to the gates, things got more awkward. Everyone who passed eyed me with suspicion. Some gave me a wide berth, frowning. A kid threw a rock at me and yelled, "pantsless witch!"
I don't blame him.
At the entrance, two guards in leather armor stopped me.
"Purpose of your visit to Grindale?" one asked, not looking me in the eye.
"Uh… to live. Eat. Not die."
"Do you have identification?"
"I was hit by a truck and reincarnated two hours ago."
"…What?"
"Forget it. I want to register as an adventurer."
The guards glanced at each other, muttered something about "new arrivals," and one pointed me toward a building by the square with a sign showing a crossed sword and shield: the Grindale Adventurers' Guild.
Perfect.
Inside, the vibe changed completely. Shouting, laughter, the smell of beer and sweat. People in armor, giant swords, and impossible hairstyles fought over quests on boards covered in papers.
I went up to the counter.
The receptionist, a tall woman in leather armor with a strict bun, scanned me up and down.
"You are…?"
"New. I want to register as an adventurer."
"Class."
"Cleric. Level 2. I think. Can I see a quest?"
She opened a floating screen with professional efficiency. Her expression changed as soon as she read my status.
"…All your stats are ones?"
"Yes. Is that common?"
"No. It's pathetic."
"Thanks for the emotional support."
She sighed, closed the screen, and pulled out a pen.
"I'll register you. But you can't accept combat quests. Or gathering. Or escort. Or exploration. Basically, you can clean stables, sweep the plaza, or act as baggage on group quests… if they'll take you."
"And will I get paid?"
"Two coppers a day. If you survive."
"Wonderful."
"Your rank number is F-. Your alias will be… 'The Miraculous,'" she read off the screen with a grimace.
"Why that name?"
"Because the system flagged you as the bearer of a holy item."
"WHAT?! Why does it say that?!"
"Don't you have an SSS-class staff?"
"That was random! I didn't even ask for it!"
The receptionist scooted slightly away.
"…Don't touch anything."
"Can I rent a room?"
"With what money?"
"I don't have any."
"South Alley Inn. Smells like old feet. But they'll let you sleep in the storeroom if you don't complain about the mold."
Five minutes later, I was on a straw mattress in a windowless room next to some suspiciously damp barrels.
Zerat'Xiel leaned against the wall.
"Any plan?"
"Yes. Cry."
"And after that?"
"Sleep. If the ceiling fungus doesn't eat me first."
And that's how my first day in this wonderful world of adventures, magic, and broken systems ended.
I pulled the robe over myself, closed my eyes, and murmured:
"Reincarnating was a mistake."