Knock, knock—
"Come in!"
"Excuse me, master of the house!"
Click.
I—a brown-haired boy with a rather small frame—stepped into the dilapidated house.
"Cough, cough~"
The place was thick with dust and filth. Furniture was thrown about carelessly, cluttered and chaotic.
"It's you again, Ron! Tch!"
Old man Haller, who still had hair back then, was holding a teacup as if to receive a guest—then realized it was me.
"How unlucky! Why does it have to be this troublemaking brat!?"
"How unlucky! Is that how you talk the moment you see a guest!?"
I sat down on the sofa, only to realize it was covered in dust. Just as I was about to complain, something tiny drifted onto me.
"What's this?"
"Salt for cleaning the house. Don't you know salt is great for killing bacteria?"
"…If you're trying to chase someone away, at least offer them a cup of coffee first. That's basic courtesy."
"No guest just walks into someone's house and asks for coffee like you do."
Even so, the grumpy old man still brought out a cup of hot water and some coffee powder.
"How do you want it?"
"Cappuccino. Please, sir."
"You make a cripple like me work this hard just to entertain you—does your conscience get chewed on by dogs or what?"
Old man Haller angrily hurled the cup of hot water—still unmixed with coffee—straight at my face.
Clang—
The cup struck me. I felt only a faint sting, even as white steam billowed off my body.
"…Ron… you didn't dodge?"
"Huh? Oh. I didn't notice it coming. What's wrong? It's not like it was boiling water."
"Ron! Why did you come here!? What happened to you!?"
Haller shouted and rolled his wheelchair toward me.
"You old man, it's nothing—"
My words were cut off as a wave of nausea surged up. I collapsed to the floor, vomiting a mass of black, blood-like sludge.
"KH—KH!"
Thin threads sprouted from my tongue, wriggling before falling to the ground like worms and maggots.
"Guh—"
"What's going on!? Joe?!"
"I—I—ugh… this isn't in the novel!?"
"Novel? What novel?"
Old man Haller's face twisted—shrinking inward, collapsing into a single point before melting into the darkness of the room.
That was all I remembered.
Because the last thing that followed was the darkness of unconsciousness.
…
When I opened my eyes, a gun was pointed straight at me.
Ah—right. I was holding it backwards, aimed at my own head.
"Hm…"
I looked around. What time period was this?
"Oh—right. The king of Jinglus is about to show up to settle a deal. I'm here to ambush him, aren't I?"
Looks like I had dozed off.
Damn it. I'm really sloppy at my job.
A splitting headache pounded in my skull, but I forced myself to stay calm—the job wasn't done yet.
Seriously… when will things ever be peaceful?
"Want some cappuccino?"
"Thanks. That'll help."
Lunas walked over, holding a cup of cappuccino. He glanced at what I was holding and asked curiously.
"What's that?"
"This? It's called a gun. You just press here, and something as powerful as an arrow shoots out."
I rambled on about firearms, nearly forgetting what I was here to do.
"…Oh, that's fascinating. How did you make something like this?"
"I honestly don't know. Just a little trick from my previous life."
"Previous life? What did you do in your previous life?"
"That was—"
I hesitated, took a sip of cappuccino, and felt my head clear slightly.
"I worked part-time while attending university in my previous life. It was exhausting, and nothing to be proud of,"I answered vaguely, not thinking much of it.
"I see… that's wonderful,"he murmured, lowering his head and rubbing his chin as if lost in thought.
"Then… do you really remember your previous life?"He tilted his head up—but his eyes were hollow, as though they were trying to draw someone's soul inside.
"Wha—!"
I flinched at that moment—my vision suddenly obscured by something.
Dozens of hands burst out from the cappuccino, grabbing my neck, face, hair, arms, legs—trying to imprison me.
The cup fell and shattered on the ground, breaking apart like my sanity. My eyes darted wildly, but another hand covered them.
It was like a cage for criminals—a shackle dragging everything into absolute darkness.
"How interesting. Tell me more,"a warm, gentle voice whispered into my ear.
Then even my ears were covered.
I couldn't move.Couldn't walk.Couldn't speak.Couldn't breathe.Couldn't circulate mana.
I was helpless—sinking deeper.
A trap? An illusion? A dream? Psychological magic???
…
Birdsong echoed through the village. People bustled about while a lone figure stood apart from the crowd.
"Hey, Ron, come eat with me!"
A young man's voice rang out.
I opened my eyes and saw a familiar silhouette—Lunas, holding freshly bought bread.
"Lunas?"I stared in disbelief.
What am I doing here?
I looked around blankly.A familiar road.A familiar voice.Familiar eyes.A familiar scent.
Nothing felt strange.
That's right.Lunas and I had just escaped the orphanage and were traveling together.
Of course.
"Why are you spacing out like that?"Lunas walked over and tossed me a warm piece of bread, lightly spread with jam.
"Eat up. It's really good."
He bit into his happily.
I stared at the bread for a long moment—
then ate it as if it were the most normal thing in the world.