It was a world drowned in white. Ice. Snow. Silence—broken only by the shrieking wind that clawed at collapsing buildings and tore warmth from the air like a predator devouring its prey.
The world was ending.
Ending… because I ran.
My legs had carried me away like a coward's would. I feared death—feared it so deeply, even though she had once reached out and saved me. I couldn't become like that man… the one who trembled, yet still stepped forward. Again. And again. And again.
I didn't have that strength. That resolve. That madness.
I was worthless. Trash.
People would die. No—everyone would die. This city would be erased, all because I chose escape over courage. It wasn't only that cruel woman I feared… it was the future beyond her. Even if I won… what then? Could I protect anyone? Could I survive what came next?
What could I possibly do?
The cold sank into my bones. My body refused to move. This was the price of running. The price of being weak.
If only… it had been Natsuki Subaru.
A hero. Someone broken, pathetic, terrified—yet still able to stand. Someone who could scream, cry, fail… and still save everyone.
But no matter how desperately I wished, that hero wasn't here.
Only me.
The one who ran.
I'm not him.
I'm not the man who can die and smile.
But if I run again…
I won't even be myself.
Regret gnawed at my heart. Regret for letting her die. Regret for turning away. Fear and pain crushed me from within—
—and then, beneath it all, something burned.
A fragile flame. Weak. Shaking. Yet unextinguished.
My throat tore open as the words forced themselves out:
"I swear… I will save you."
Even if I break.
Even if I suffer.
Even if it kills me again and again—
"I swear it on my soul!"
CRACK
Like fragile glass, the boy's body splintered.
Light vanished.
Sound disappeared.
And everything… fell into darkness.
(Perspective change )
It was a normal day—
No… a normal night.
I was just an ordinary 20-year-old guy working the graveyard shift, 7 p.m. to 3 a.m. Nothing special. Nothing heroic. I went home like always, made something quick to eat, and collapsed into bed around 4:30 a.m., exhausted and half-awake.
And then—
I woke up somewhere else.
Not my room. Not my world.
Noise struck me first. Loud. Alive. Overwhelming.
A city.
Carriages rattled across stone roads, pulled by giant reptiles. People moved in every direction—lizard-men, humans, demi-humans with animal ears, armored figures, cloaked strangers. The air smelled unfamiliar, thick with heat, dust, and life. I stood frozen before a stone fountain, water trickling behind me as if mocking my confusion.
My heart pounded.
Slowly, carefully, I pinched myself.
Pain.
Real pain.
"It's… not a dream…"
My voice sounded small. Weak. Like it didn't belong here.
The buildings around me rose in archaic, medieval shapes—curved stone, carved arches, banners I couldn't read. Everything felt wrong. Not fantasy-novel wrong. Real wrong.
"So… Isekai is real…?"
I whispered it like a joke, but nothing about this felt funny.
People were staring.
I looked down at myself—and froze again.
A plastic bag hung loosely from my arm, filled with random items I didn't recognize. My clothes… weren't mine. Not what I wore to bed. Not even close.
My chest tightened.
"So this… isn't my body either…"
The words left my mouth before I could stop them.
Think.
I needed information. If I understood where I was, maybe I could understand why. Nobody around me seemed shocked by my presence, which meant the body I was in had likely been here already.
But then why the modern clothes?
Was this body… like me? Another outsider?
Too many questions. My head hurt.
Survival first.
Food. Water. Shelter. If this was real—and it was—then I could die here.
"People make isekai look easy…" I muttered under my breath, forcing myself to walk. "But without a guide… this is hell mode."
Voices surrounded me. A language I didn't expect.
Japanese.
And somehow… I understood it.
"…Of course," I said weakly. "Basic isekai starter pack…"
Convenient. Suspicious. Terrifying.
Communication wasn't the problem.
Reading was.
Ahead, a wooden sign hung outside a tavern, covered in symbols I couldn't recognize. I stepped closer, squinting, trying to make sense of it—
A shadow fell over me.
I looked up.
A towering lizard-man stood there, eyes cold, voice low and dangerous.
"This place is for demi-humans only, kid. Get lost."
My body reacted before my mind did.
I backed away quickly, heart racing, instincts screaming don't provoke him. I didn't need violence. Not here. Not now.
I retreated into the crowd, lowering my head, pretending not to notice the stares burning into me.
"I can understand the language… but I still can't read…" I muttered bitterly. "Great."
Lost. Hungry. Alone. No power. No guide. No system. No idea what kind of world this really was.
Fear crept in, slow and heavy.
Still… standing still wouldn't save me.
I forced myself to look up and scan the street.
Then I saw him.
He didn't move.
Amid the noise and chaos of the street, he sat like a silent pillar, untouched by the rushing world around him. Broad shoulders. Still posture. Unshaken. Sunlight traced the hard lines of his muscular frame, gliding across tan skin and catching the faint tension beneath it. Short green hair, bound beneath a patterned headscarf, framed sharp, watchful eyes—eyes that carried caution… and experience.
A toothpick rested lazily at the corner of his mouth, giving him the appearance of someone relaxed—yet never unaware.
His rough hands, hardened by years of labor, held a single red apple with surprising care. Not loosely. Not casually. Carefully… as if weighing more than just its ripeness.
His sleeveless, worn traveler's clothes exposed strength born from survival rather than battle. And though his presence felt intimidating, there was something steady about him. Grounded. Like a man who had faced hardship, endured it, and refused to break.
Someone real.
Someone who belonged in this world.
Unlike me.
My chest tightened, but I forced myself forward.
Step by step.
If I backed down now, I'd stay lost forever.
Mustering what little courage I had, I approached him.
"Excuse me… do you take this currency?"
My voice sounded smaller than I wanted.
From the worn wallet I had found on this body, I pulled out a few coins, holding them out carefully—almost desperately—hoping they meant something here. Hoping I wasn't completely helpless.
The man finally looked at me.
His eyes dropped to the coins.
Silence.
Then—
"Huh?"
His voice was low, flat, uninterested.
"What kinda currency is that? If you don't got money, just scram, kid."
He waved his hand dismissively, already losing interest, like I was nothing more than background noise.
The words hit harder than they should have.
Of course.
Why would anything be easy?
Realizing I had no leverage—no value here—I lowered my hand. Without business, without worth, I was just another useless stranger. And the last thing I needed was to draw attention.
So I stepped back.
One step.
Then another.
Dejected… again.
The noise of the marketplace swallowed me whole as I walked away, coins still cold in my palm, reality pressing heavier with every breath.
No money.
No place.
No guide.
No idea what comes next.
I wandered the city without a guide.
No destination. No direction. Just movement.
I tried speaking with other vendors—again and again—with mixed results. Some ignored me. Some brushed me off. A few gave short, reluctant answers. From broken conversations and scattered words, I managed to learn one thing:
This place was called the Royal Capital of Lugunica.
A grand name.
One that meant nothing to someone like me.
Work? Shelter? Help?
Nothing.
No one wanted to deal with a stranger whose origin, purpose, and value were unknown. In this world, trust clearly wasn't given—it was earned. And right now… I had nothing to offer.
Eventually, without realizing it, my feet carried me into a narrow alleyway.
Quiet.
Empty.
I slid down against the cold wall and sat, staring at the ground, forcing my mind to work.
Think. Think. Think.
What do I do now…?
Then—
"Hey, hey… what do we have here?"
My heart skipped.
I looked up.
Three men stood at the alley entrance, blocking the light. Their clothes were dirty, ragged, worn down. Their faces twisted with malice and disdain. Eyes sharp. Predatory.
My body stiffened.
This… was bad.
No—this was really bad.
They stepped closer.
Slow. Confident. Like they already knew the outcome.
"Now why don't you make this easy," one of them sneered, "and hand over everything you got."
My mind raced.
Three against one.
Terrible odds.
I didn't know this body's strength, speed, or limits. If it was anything like my old one, I didn't stand a chance. Maybe—maybe—if it were two, I could struggle. But against all three? Especially the biggest one? No.
Still…
The other two didn't look very strong.
If I ran? They'd catch me.
If I fought? I'd probably lose.
If I talked? Their faces already told me the answer—they weren't here to negotiate.
Then there was the last option.
Give up everything.
My hand tightened slightly.
Everything I had… was all I had left. My only chance to survive. My only chance to earn money. Without it, I'd have nothing. No food. No future. Nothing.
Just before they appeared… I had made a decision.
The old-fashioned phone I found on this body—
I was going to sell it.
My final lifeline.
And these three stood ready to take it from me.
In a normal fight, I never would have stood a chance. That much was certain.
But this… this wasn't normal.
They looked down on me with complete disdain, certain I wouldn't resist.
Good.
I'd use that.
"Alright… I'll give you everything I've got."
I stepped forward slowly, as if surrendering—head lowered, body relaxed, defeated.
Then—
My fist clenched.
And I struck.
My knuckles smashed into the nose of the largest thug—the one I judged the most dangerous. Pain exploded through my hand, but his body flew backward, crashing violently into the alley wall.
For a moment… silence.
This body—
It was stronger than my former one.
Stronger—but untrained.
No time to think.
Before the other two recovered from shock, I spun on my heel and drove a kick into the smaller thug's neck. My foot connected solidly, sending him tumbling across the ground like a rag doll.
Two down.
One left.
I turned—
"Damn you, bastard!" the last thug screamed. "You did that to Gaston and Camberley—I'll kill you!"
A knife flashed in his hand.
My breath caught.
This was bad.
I raised both arms defensively, stepping back slowly, searching desperately for an opening. He advanced without fear, blade glinting, eyes burning with rage.
Don't panic. Don't panic. Don't—
Suddenly—
A hand grabbed the back of my head.
"Take this, asshole! This is for breaking my nose!"
My world flipped.
My face slammed into the ground. A sickening buzz filled my skull as warmth spread down my face—blood. My vision blurred, spinning. Above me stood the large thug—the one I thought I had taken out.
The taste of iron filled my mouth.
"Tch. You should've just given up," he sneered. "We would've let you go."
The other two staggered over, the dwarf I kicked breathing hard—then began kicking.
Blow after blow.
I curled into myself, arms over my head, teeth clenched, enduring.
Pain.
Relentless.
Each kick slammed into my ribs, my stomach, my back—blurring the line between body and agony. My arms barely held over my head, trembling, useless. My breath came in broken gasps, the world dimming at the edges.
Laughter echoed above me.
"Still conscious?" one of them mocked. "Tougher than he looks."
Another kick drove into my side.
My body twitched.
My vision blurred further.
Then—
Footsteps.
Light.
Fast.
Rushing past the mouth of the alley.
One of the thugs paused slightly.
"Huh?"
Through swollen, half-closed eyes, I saw her.
A small figure darted past the alley entrance.
Blonde hair—wild, unkempt.
Red eyes—sharp, alert, alive.
"…Tch—" the girl muttered, breath uneven from running. "This looks bad…"
She slowed for only half a heartbeat.
Her crimson eyes flicked toward me—toward the broken body curled in the dirt.
Not pity.
Not cruelty.
Just reality.
"…I'm in a hurry," she said under her breath, tightening her grip around the bundle in her arms. "So don't go dying on me, alright?"
A brief pause.
Then—
"…Live strong."
She planted her foot against the alley wall—
And leapt.
Light. Fast. Effortless.
Boots struck stone—once, twice—kicking off the wall as she vaulted upward toward the rooftops.
A scrape of tile.
Then nothing.
She was gone.
"…H-help…"
The word barely escaped my lips.
Too weak.
Too late.
I was alone.
And the silence of abandonment pressed down on me.
Then—
The world returned to the alley.
To pain.
To laughter.
"Well? Thought someone came to save you?" one thug sneered, kicking me again. "Not your lucky day, huh?"
My body curled tighter, shaking.
Hope—gone.
Reality—unchanged.
I was alone.
Pain.
More pain.
Endless pain.
Eventually… it stopped.
Their breathing was heavy. Tired.
Then—
A kick slammed into my stomach, forcing the air from my lungs.
"Alright," the lanky one said. "We've had our fun. Time to take his stuff."
My vision swam. My head rang. The world felt distant.
The lanky thug leaned down.
Was I really… going to let him take it?
My last chance?
Everything I had left?
No.
No.
No.
Anger burned through the pain.
/Spit/
I spat in his face.
He froze.
Slowly, he touched his cheek—then his expression twisted into fury.
"You bastard! Still haven't learned your lesson?!"
My arm trembled, barely lifting.
But I raised my middle finger.
"F… fuck you…" I wheezed. "Asshole…"
He didn't understand the gesture—but he understood the insult.
His rage deepened. The knife lifted.
"Fine. Have it your way. I'll kill you for real this time!"
"W-wait, Rachins!" the smaller thug stammered. "What if the guards—"
"Who cares?!" Rachins snapped. "He can't even scream!"
The knife plunged downward—
Then—
A voice rang out.
Clear. Bright. Like a bell cutting through darkness.
"That's enough, villains!"
Everything stopped.
Through my blurred vision, I saw her.
Silver hair flowing like moonlight.
Violet eyes shining with power and resolve.
Beautiful—
No.
Not just beautiful.
Otherworldly.
She stood there, graceful and radiant. Her long silver hair fell past her waist, shimmering softly. Her pale skin glowed under the faint light, and her violet eyes—clear, sharp, unwavering—looked down upon the thugs with authority.
She wore white and lavender, an elegant dress layered like petals, long detached sleeves drifting with her movement. Thigh-high stockings and delicate heels completed her refined, almost unreal presence.
Serene.
Noble.
Powerful.
In that moment—
She looked like salvation.
The knife plunging toward my chest—stopped.
Everyone in the alley froze, turning toward the intruder.
Where have I seen her before…?
"Huh? And who the hell are you supposed to be?" Rachins scoffed.
She stepped forward with calm, confident steps, her gaze briefly lingering on my broken body before extending her hand.
"Give back what you stole and leave that boy alone."
The thugs, sensing danger, spread out slightly, maintaining distance while facing her.
"I won't allow you to run amok like this. Stop at once."
Her voice, clear like a silver bell, was gentle to the ear—yet carried a weight that pressed against the heart. I was overwhelmed, almost forgetting my own pain.
The thugs felt it too.
Their earlier confidence faded.
Rachins paled and took a step back.
"W-waitwaitwait! We don't really get it, but we'll let him go, so please forgive us…" he stammered.
"It's good to see you're reasonable," she replied calmly. "It's not too late. Return what you stole."
"It was our bad… Eh? What we stole?"
"Please. It's very important. I could let anything else go—but not that. If you return it now, I'll spare your lives."
Her words were polite… but the last carried unmistakable anger. Her gaze sharpened. The hand she held out remained empty—yet something invisible gathered in her palm. Everyone in the alley could feel it.
Pressure.
Danger.
"W-wait! Perhaps this is a misunderstanding?" one thug said nervously.
"…What?"
"Aren't you here to save this guy?" they pointed at me.
As the conversation continued, something stirred in my mind.
The woman before me… felt familiar.
Like I had seen her somewhere before.
But I couldn't place it.
"What strange clothes he's wearing," she said, slightly irritated. "I don't approve of you ganging up on him… but if you're asking whether I know him, then no. I do not."
Her tone suggested annoyance—as if they were delaying her true purpose.
"W-wait—then we have nothing to do with each other! If you're looking for something stolen, it was probably the girl who ran past here earlier!"
"Y-yeah! She climbed the wall and ran onto the roof!"
"She's probably three streets away by now!"
They spoke quickly, desperate.
The girl turned toward me, silently asking.
Was it true?
My head moved on its own.
I nodded.
"You don't seem to be lying… She went that way, then. I must hurry."
She turned, preparing to leave.
The three men visibly relaxed.
Meanwhile—
I cursed myself.
If only I had lied…
Maybe she would have stayed.
Maybe I wouldn't be alone again.
But—
"Even so… I cannot overlook what you've done here."
She turned back.
Her palm faced them.
Ice formed.
In an instant, shards of frozen light shot forward, striking the thugs and blasting them back across the alley.
The ice shattered—vanishing like it had never existed.
"…Magic."
A fantasy staple.
Something I never thought I would see in real life.
The three men staggered to their feet, injured—but furious.
"You damn witch—!" one snarled. "You think you can beat all three of us?!"
A small voice chimed beside her—light, amused.
"…Honestly, picking fights with Lia is a terrible life decision."
A small gray cat floated beside her shoulder, tail swaying.
The men froze.
"A spirit user?!" one whispered.
"That's right," the cat yawned. "And she's being merciful. You should leave before she changes her mind."
The thugs exchanged looks.
Fear won.
"…Tch."
They retreated, passing me on their way out.
"You better watch your back, kid," one muttered bitterly.
Then they were gone.
I ignored them.
My eyes remained fixed on her.
She stepped closer.
And then—
It clicked.
I knew her.
Silver hair. Violet eyes. A spirit user.
Emilia.
The heroine of Re:Zero.
My heart dropped.
Dread spread through me like creeping frost, cold and suffocating.
There had been signs.
Clues, scattered everywhere.
I had seen them.
I had understood them.
And still…
I chose to ignore them.
Re:Zero.
Not a fantasy.
A nightmare.
A world of suffering.
Of death.
Of repetition.
Of madness.
If this was truly that world…
Then I already knew what awaited me.
Blood in the slums.
A smiling killer.
An endless loop of despair.
My heart pounded violently, each beat louder than the last, drowning out every rational thought.
I don't want to die.
I don't want to die.
I don't want to—
"…Can you hear me?" her voice reached me—gentle, steady, close.
She stepped nearer, violet eyes studying me carefully, calm yet watchful.
I tried to respond, but my body felt heavy, distant… slipping away.
She hesitated, as if weighing something within herself.
"…I am searching for something that was stolen from me," she said, her tone measured—almost deliberately composed. "A silver insignia. Have you seen anyone suspicious?"
My lips trembled.
Words refused to form.
"…I… don't…" My voice cracked weakly. "…I don't know…"
Her gaze did not waver.
I swallowed, pain scraping through my throat.
"…A blonde girl…" I forced out. "…She ran… through here… earlier…"
Her composure faltered—just slightly.
"…Which way?"
My vision blurred.
"…Roof… She jumped… to the roof…"
My strength gave out.
Darkness crept inward, swallowing the edges of the world.
For a moment… I felt something watching me.
But before it took me—
I heard her voice, quieter now.
"…I see."
My body collapsed.
The world faded.
And I fell—
Into black.
(Perspective change 3rd person)
"…He's lost consciousness," Emilia murmured softly.
"You said you wouldn't get involved," came a small voice.
A gray cat floated beside her shoulder.
Emilia crossed her arms, trying to steady herself, trying—unsuccessfully—to appear distant.
"…I am not," she replied. "He is simply… in the way."
Puck blinked slowly.
"…Lia."
Silence.
Her gaze fell to the boy lying motionless at her feet.
Her fingers tightened, betraying her calm.
"…I cannot leave someone to die," she admitted quietly.
Puck smiled, amused but gentle.
"You always say you won't help… and then you do anyway."
Emilia sighed faintly.
"…Just this once."
Her hand hovered… trembled… then reached anyway.