Two years later.
Still same cottage. Same lumpy straw mattress. Same damn sunlight stabbing through the shutters like it had a grudge against him.
Roland groaned and pulled the blanket over his head.
"…Why does life still have fetch quests?"
He lay there, staring at nothing, muttering.
"Wake up. Haul water. Fix runes. Listen to Mira nag. Teach brats who don't listen anyway. Then drink. Then sleep. Rinse and repeat. And people say this is peaceful life. Hahhhhh."
He rolled out of bed, joints cracking louder than before. Forty-something ossan life didn't come with free patches. The devs of reincarnation screwed him.
Outside, the village was lively as always. Chickens ran around, kids yelled, hammers clanged.
Everyone waved at him like he was some reliable helper. Which was funny, because he wasn't reliable at all.
Or so he thought.
"Roland!"
Here it comes.
The Village Chief waddled up the road, cane in hand. His beard looked even longer, now like a mop glued to his chin.
Roland sighed.
"Morning, Chief. What's broken this time?"
The Chief scowled.
"Why do you always assume something's broken?"
"Because every time you call me, something's broken."
"…Fair point. Pantry's rune is stuck. It won't open. Villagers are hungry. Fix it."
Roland scratched his stubble.
"Um. Please."
"Yup. Side quest accepted."
"What?"
"Nothing. Lead the way."
The pantry was a small wooden hut near the square, with a glowing blue rune etched on its door. Right now the glow was harsh, pulsing like a stubborn heartbeat.
Roland crouched, staff balanced on his shoulder, and studied the lines.
"Yeah, locking function overloaded. Whoever designed this rune probably copy-pasted without debugging."
"Can you fix it?" a woman asked, clutching an empty basket.
Roland shrugged.
"Of course. Hotfix patch coming right up."
He pulled out a bit of chalk, scribbled two quick symbols around the glowing rune, muttering all the while.
"Disable loop, redirect flow, reduce condition check. There."
He tapped the rune with his staff. The glow softened. The pantry door clicked, swinging open.
The villagers cheered. "Ohhh!" "As expected from Ossan!" "You saved dinner again!"
Roland yawned.
"Yeah, yeah. Just don't overstuff the array again."
Blank stares.
"…Never mind. Don't cram too much grain in at once, or it'll break again."
"Ohhh!" the villagers nodded like he was a sage.
Roland muttered, "I swear, people treat me like a magic janitor."
He headed back toward the tavern, only to find Mira already waiting outside, hands on her hips.
"You again," she snapped. "Fixing runes for free?"
Roland blinked.
"What? It was just a pantry."
"You could've charged them a silver at least. Two, even!"
Well.
"Money doesn't buy naps."
Mira smacked his shoulder with a rag.
"You ossan fool, money buys ale, which you mooch from me!"
Roland winced, rubbing his shoulder.
"Alright, alright, I'll charge next time. Maybe. Probably. Don't raise your flag, Mira."
"Flag? What flag?"
"Never mind."
She muttered under her breath, but stomped back inside. Roland sighed in relief.
"Mentooor!"
Roland froze. He knew that voice. He considered bolting back into Mira's tavern, but it was too late.
Two figures ran up the road, taller now, not the little brats who used to barely reach his waist.
Tommy, fifteen now, his hair messy as ever, clutching a stick like it was a sword.
Lila, fourteen now, with sharper eyes than her brother, already carrying a notebook she probably stole from somewhere.
"Don't call me that," Roland grumbled.
"But you're our Mentor!" Tommy grinned, puffing his chest. "You're the one who taught us mana basics!"
"Accidentally," Roland muttered. "I was trying to nap that day."
"You drew a diagram in the dirt for us," Lila said, matter-of-fact. "You even explained mana flow like water in pipes."
"That was an accident too."
"You gave homework."
Roland groaned.
"Why do you kids remember everything I say?"
"Because you're our Mentor," Tommy said proudly.
"BIG no." Roland waved his hand like swatting a fly.
"Mentor is some grand old mage with a tower and beard down to the floor. I'm just… me. A tired ossan with back pain."
"Then you're our Ossan Mentor," Lila said with a smirk.
Roland squinted at her. "That's worse."
Somehow, he ended up at the tavern with them anyway. The place was quiet in the morning, just Mira cleaning mugs. Roland sat them down at a corner table, dragging three empty ale mugs in front of them.
"Alright, fine," he muttered. "Lesson time. Don't get used to it."
Tommy's eyes sparkled. Lila already had her notebook open.
Roland pointed at the mugs. "Rule one. Survive alone in the forest. If you can't light a fire, you're screwed. If you can't boil water, you're dead. If you can't keep a barrier up, you'll get eaten. Got it?"
"Got it!"
"Now, these mugs? Pretend they're your mana containers." Roland tapped the first mug. "Full mug. Easy. Cast a fireball, splash!" He tilted it, miming spilling beer. "Empty mug. You faint. Don't do that."
The kids laughed.
He tapped the second mug. "This one has a crack. That's you when you don't control flow. Mana leaks everywhere, boom, migraine. Don't do that either."
Finally, the third mug.
"This one's stable, steady pour. That's what you want. Doesn't matter if it's small. Consistency beats fancy tricks. Survive first, impress later."
Tommy tilted his head.
"So… survive first, impress later?"
"Exactly." Roland leaned back, crossing his arms. "Remember that. I don't care if you grow up to be great heroes or boring farmers. If you die because you didn't manage your mana, I'll haunt you. And I'm petty enough to actually do it."
The kids snorted.
"Mentor Ossan, you sound like an old man," Lila teased.
"I am an old man." Roland sighed, rubbing his neck. "Stop acting like I'm some anime sensei. I'm allergic to responsibility."
"Anime?" Tommy blinked.
"Never mind. Forget I said that."
Before Roland could shoo them out, more villagers peeked into the tavern. One man carrying a broom. A woman holding a cracked lantern. Another complaining their stove runes flickered.
Roland buried his face in his hands.
Huhhhhhhhhh.
"Bug reports. It never ends."
Mira crossed her arms, smirking.
"Welcome to your job, Mentor."
Roland groaned so loud the rafters shook.
He ended up outside, surrounded like a cornered animal.
"Roland, my lantern keeps sparking…"
"The pantry rune locked itself again…"
"My broom floats whenever I touch it…."
"Okay, okay, one at a time!" he barked, hands up like a frazzled teacher on the first day of school.
The broom guy shoved it forward first. The handle jittered in Roland's grip like a nervous rabbit. He squinted at the runes carved into the wood.
"Who the hell added an attraction glyph here?" Roland muttered. "This is literally copy-pasted code with no comments."
"Uh… so, can you fix it?"
Roland sighed, pulled a bit of chalk from his pocket, and scrawled over the messy rune. "Hotfix. Done. Don't sweep too hard or it'll relapse."
The broom immediately calmed down, perfectly still.
"Ooohh!" the crowd murmured.
Next came the pantry. He trudged over to the small wooden shed, tapping at the glowing lock rune. Sure enough, it was looping the same command over and over.
"Infinite loop. Great." He scratched a diagonal line through it, breaking the circuit. The rune blinked, then clicked open.
"Hotfix patch number two," Roland muttered.
By the time he was halfway through the lantern, Mira leaned against the fence, smirking. "Still not charging people enough."
"I told you," Roland muttered, hands busy. "Money doesn't buy naps."
"It buys ale."
Roland paused. "…Point taken."
As the day dragged on, he patched up a dozen tiny problems. To him, it was just debugging. Scribble a rune here, erase a line there. Comment out some bad flow. He could almost hear old coworkers in his head:
"Roland, you push that hotfix yet?"
"Deadline's in three hours!"
"Forums are on fire, dude!"
He shook his head, forcing the memories away. That was another life.
Here, bug reports came with chickens clucking around his legs, not angry managers breathing down his neck. Here, nobody would fire him if he decided to take a nap halfway.
Still, the weight of it pressed on him. He wanted naps and fishing, not villagers queued up like customers waiting for tech support.
Later that evening, after the crowd finally thinned, Roland trudged back toward the tavern. The sun painted the roofs orange, kids laughed in the distance, Mira wiped down tables inside.
Peaceful. Too peaceful. (Well, he raising the flag, isn't he?)
And that was when he overheard it.
Two farmers by the well, whispering.
"They say a carriage is coming down from the city."
"Really? Out here?"
"Yeah. Couple days, maybe less. Some noble's entourage, probably."
Roland froze mid-step. Carriage. City people. Nobles. Quests.
He pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Don't tell me… flags again." (Yeah, dumbass)
Mira poked her head out.
"What's that face for?"
"Nothing. Just… life still has fetch quests. That's all."
But later, sitting by the lake with his fishing rod in hand, he muttered under his breath.
"Please don't drag me into quests."
The water rippled quietly. The rod stayed still. And for once, he hoped the world listened.