(Ryuta POV)
It's been a few days since I returned to Sharia with Sara. She's adjusting to her new job at the daycare surprisingly well. According to the woman running the place, she's already become a favorite among the children. Honestly, I'm not surprised—not after hearing her full story. It helped me understand why she connects with them so naturally... and it explained her attempt to end her life.
I, of course, reported everything to Orsted. Sara's undead body coming back to life, the strange surge of emotions I had before that, the mercenaries and assassins sent after her—and, finally, my encounter with the masked man. I told him everything I could remember, word for word.
When I mentioned the Asura Kingdom and the supposed war on the horizon, I caught something in Orsted's eyes. Recognition. Like he already knew. Or at least he had a suspicion, but he didn't share it with me.
Now, I'm back at the school in Sharia. Back to the same old routine: crafting Magic Tools, avoiding Frederic like the plague. That guy's been getting too comfortable pushing his weight around with the whole Student Council President title.
I was working on my target-practice disks again when I hit another block. My fingers slipped, the device fell from my hands, and I slumped back in my chair, pressing a hand to my forehead.
The problem? It was Sara.
Her pain... her grief… her loss. I didn't just witness it—I became a part of it. And it keeps gnawing at me. I failed to protect the people who meant so much to her. Orsted didn't tell me, but her party was like family to her after the loss of her parents, and I wasn't fast enough to stop the tragedy from recurring once more.
And the truth is, I can't even fully empathize with her grief. I never went to my own parents' funeral, let alone think about their deaths until recently. The two people who tried—really tried—to pull me out of my shell… and I couldn't even be bothered to say goodbye and instead stayed in my room like I always did.
Ever since what happened the other day, I've been forced to look at myself—and I don't like what I see.
My thoughts drifted to my siblings next. I imagined how they'd react if they heard I died. Would they even care? Would they even know? I had nothing on me when I left—no ID, no name anyone would recognize—just a fat ghost walking on two feet. Still, I believe they wouldn't even bother to give me a burial, considering the last straw that led them to kick me out in the first place.
"Geez," I muttered, half-laughing at myself. "What a total mess of a pile of trash I am."
But I knew better than to let the self-loathing spiral. I could beat myself up all day long, but it wouldn't fix anything. Wouldn't change what happened.
And it sure as hell wouldn't help Sara.
I was still rubbing the ache out of my temples when I heard the soft thump-thump of padded feet down the hallway. The door creaked open without so much as a knock—because of course it didn't.
"Boooss~," Linia sang in a sing-song, popping her head in with her ears perked and tail flicking lazily. "You alive in here, or did you pass out on your boring disks again—mew?"
Pursena followed behind, scrunching her nose. "Ugh. Smells like metal and a sprinkle of sad. You stewin' in here all day again, Boss?"
I sighed, not bothering to hide the slump in my shoulders. "Shouldn't you two be in class?"
Linia's whiskers twitched as she smirked. "Class ended over an hour ago, mew~. You're seriously that out of it?"
I blinked at the dim orange glow outside the window. I'd lost track of time again—too caught up in my own world. Typical me, I guess.
Linia stretched, letting out a low yawn, tail swaying lazily behind her. "Geez, look at you. All tense and gloomy. And this room smells like you're pent up for too long, Boss. You need to blow off some steam—with a woman, mew~."
Her teasing made me arch a brow, a faint smirk tugging at my lips, though I couldn't tell if it was amusement or nervousness. "…Is that an offer?"
Linia's ears shot straight up, tail puffing instantly. "Wh-what?! N-no way! I'm not ready to take on someone like you, Boss—mew!"
She backed off so fast it felt more like instinct than a joke. I chuckled, the sound low, and maybe a little embarrassed. It wasn't like I ever talked about this stuff—it was private. But apparently, in this school, or maybe schools in general, secrets weren't safe for long.
"Seriously, it stinks in here," Pursena said as she pinched her nose.
"It's only a matter of time before he forces himself onto us. He's a human, after all," Linia shakingly said, still taken aback at my obviously joke of a counter.
She was probably realizing at the moment that all the ogling I did at their bodies might be a sign of whom I would target first... and she wouldn't be that far off to be honest.
The girls in the brothel I used to visit are all human. I never did it with another race, so I'm actually curious.
But this is not the time, nor am I in the mood to even think about testing that.
I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling the heat creep up. "Not the kind of tension I want to deal with tonight."
Linia gave a soft snort, her eyes narrowing just a fraction, relief washing over her. "Suit yourself, Boss. But don't let yourself get swallowed up by those brooding thoughts. I heard that human males are prone to violence if they are not satisfied."
"I can't deny that's not true, but never mind that," I muttered, pushing away from the desk. My joints cracked as I stretched. "I'm calling it a day."
I grabbed my coat off the hook. "Out. Both of you."
Pursena chuckled as she headed toward the door. "What, you don't trust us in your lair anymore?"
I shot her a look. "Not after Cliff broke in. I upgraded the Secret Safeguard. You trip it, you're walking around bald. Tail and ears included."
They both flinched like I'd just threatened them with another round of ice baths.
"Eep—mew! We're out! Don't zap my tail off, Boss!"
They left, footsteps fading, but I caught the quick glance Pursena threw over her shoulder—just a flicker of something that wasn't teasing. Something like worry. Well, she doesn't have the more sensitive nose out of the two, so she could probably smell that there is something other than lust coming from me.
"I really hope it's that and nothing else."
***
Even though I told myself I'd call it a day, just lying around and brooding felt no different from being stuck in my lab. If my mind was too burned out to focus, then maybe it was time to put my body to work instead. A little training, some movement—anything to shake off the mental fog.
I needed to stay sharp. Orsted could call on me at any time, and mental instability wasn't an excuse he'd accept. Not in our line of work.
But... it was easier said than done.
I kept screwing up the rhythm of my movements—small mistakes that shattered the flow of every drill. Punches were off-balance. Footwork lagged. None of it felt natural. In fact, it was so off that I was just wasting time and energy.
Then, just to drive the point home, I lost my footing and crashed hard onto the floor. The Gravity Shackles I'd strapped on made the impact worse—dead weight dragging me down like a joke.
Yeah. Not exactly my proudest moment.
"What the hell is wrong with me...?" I muttered, throwing a forearm over my eyes as I lay flat on the floor, catching my breath.
Everything felt… heavy. Not just the shackles—me.
I wasn't even the one who'd been hurt the most. That was Sara. She had every right to fall apart, and she actually did. Survivor's guilt almost drove her to take her own life. And now… she's recovering. Slowly, maybe. But moving forward.
Me? I'm stuck. Spiraling over something I couldn't stop, and feeling like my guilt is just an overreaction. But ignoring it completely would make me feel even worse. Either way, I lose.
Eventually, I sat up and unlatched the shackles, letting them fall with a heavy clank beside me. I didn't bother getting off the floor.
Some training method to fix my head would be nice right about now. But all the stuff I've ever read came from fiction—and fiction loves to exaggerate the hell out of everything.
My eyes drifted to the desk across the room.
There it was. That red notebook.
The one the masked man gave me.
The reason it wasn't in Orsted's hands? Simple—but still deeply unsettling.
Every word in it is written in Japanese. A language only Nanahoshi and I should be able to read. Or… so I thought.
Whoever that masked freak is, he's connected to me. To my reincarnation. Maybe even to Nanahoshi's summoning. There's no way it's a coincidence.
And the proof? My name. My real name—my Japanese name—was written on the first page.
Reading it unlocked memories I'd nearly lost. That was the moment it hit me: this guy didn't just tamper with my body. He has access to my mind, too.
I haven't gone past that first page since. Haven't dared. But deep down, I know... if I want answers, they're in there.
Still... do I really want them?
What if it's a trap? What if remembering more just drags up everything I wanted to forget from my past life? That time is already a hazy blur, like a dream you only half-remember. Maybe it's better left that way.
"Argh, screw this," I growled, pushing myself to my feet.
I didn't bother washing up. Didn't even throw on a shirt. I marched straight to the desk.
The notebook sat there like it had been waiting.
I flipped it open.
The second page began with:
---
Hi there, Ryuta. Or whatever you want to call yourself now that your Japanese name is starting to come back to you.
You're probably drowning in questions. Unfortunately for you, I'm only answering the ones I feel like answering.
Yes, I know why you and Nanahoshi ended up in this fantasy world.
No, I won't tell you who or what did it.
And yes, I'm the one who gave you that bottomless stamina, which I regretted once I realized what that meant for any poor lady you would use that against. Tone down on the brothel visits, dude. The world may be on the verge of collapse, but consider the health of those who rely on it.
By now, you've probably figured it out: I've been watching you this entire time.
Not through some crystal ball. Not with a spy. Through your own eyes. Every step you've taken, every choice, every emotion—you were never alone in there.
Creepy? Yeah, probably.
Anyway, before you flip to the real meat of this notebook—the stuff that'll help with your development—you need to know something important. Something about Nanahoshi.
You might've noticed that her body isn't aging. That's not some random side effect of being summoned here. Her arrival wasn't an accident, unlike you, who's soul slipped throught the gate between the world after his fatass died. She was meant to be brought into this world for the purpose of saving someone.
But that purpose came with a cost.
Her body can't process mana. Not from spells. Not from potions. Not even from food. It builds up inside her... slowly, invisibly.
And that brings us to the real problem.
There used to be a condition called Dryne Syndrome—a disease where the body accumulates more mana than it can release. Over time, that excess turns toxic, eventually causing a full internal collapse.
Sound familiar?
Yeah. Nanahoshi is on track to suffer the same fate. No known magic—healing, detox, nothing can cure it.
But… there is a workaround.
The answer lies in a plant called Sokas Grass—a rare herb that only grows in total darkness. I'm talking deep underground, places where the sun never touches. Poor phrasing on my part earlier, but you get the idea.
Originally, it grew in the lowest layers of the Red Dragon's Tail, a remote region of the Red Dragon Mountain Range—before that place was torn apart during the final battle between the Dragon God and Fighting God in the Second Great Human-Demon War.
Lucky for you, Kishirika Kishirisu once had a thing for Sokas Grass. She ordered all Demon Kings to cultivate it beneath their castles. Most of them slacked off, obviously, but a few still keep it growing.
And here's the kicker: One of those places still exists in the Gaslow Region.
Problem is, the Demon King who rules that area isn't exactly a fan of words—especially the ones that challenge her intelligence. So, if you plan to go herb-picking, consider bringing more than just your charming personality.
You don't need to rush just yet, but I'd get to it sooner rather than later—before little Miss Seven Stars starts coughing up her soul.
Now then, the following pages will cover a place with a rather fascinating—
---
I shut the notebook with a snap and dropped it onto the desk.
Okay, this was a lot of info, and I needed to process it first.
First off, does he truly see through my eyes? My mismatched, silver slit eyes? I'm not sure if I can do it with anyone anytime soon, knowing that someone else is watching me.
Next up is the part about... the summoning thing. It kind of stings to be told that I was accidentally summoned here because I slipped through while the main target was dragged away from the scene.
At the very least, it explains why I'm here in a new body instead of my old one... wait a minute. Something doesn't add up here. If I wasn't intended to be summoned to this world, then how did I get this immaculate body?
The masked man did write that he knew about the cause of Nanahoshi's summon, but unless I get to meet him personally... or whatever kind of trick he uses to contact me, my questions stay unanswered.
"Maybe I should take this to Nanahoshi and hear what she has to say about this?" I muttered to myself.
She might not know everything, but at the very least, she could help me think it through. Maybe even confirm some things from her own perspective. Especially the part about her body building up more mana than she could physically handle... it lines up too well to ignore. If this Sokas Grass is real, then the clock's ticking whether she knows it or not.
I stood up, half-reaching for the notebook again, just in case she wanted to read it herself, when—
*Tap* *Tap* *Tap*
My head snapped toward the door.
It wasn't loud. Just soft, quick taps.
But what made it unnerving was that I hadn't sensed a damn thing approaching—no mana signature. No footsteps. Not even a change in air pressure. My detection picked up nothing.
I cautiously stepped toward the door and opened it fast, expecting someone—something.
But the hallway outside was empty.
My eyes scanned every corner, every flicker of light, then drifted downward.
On the floor was a faint trail of smoke, wispy and fading quickly. In the middle of it lay a small letter, folded neatly. No seal. No name. Just sitting there like it had been placed by invisible fingers.
Wariness spiked through my spine.
I reached for it carefully, expecting it to explode in my face or curse me on contact. But nothing happened.
I unfolded the letter.
It was short.
Scrawled in bold red ink, only one sentence stared back at me:
'READ THE DAMN BOOK ALREADY OR ELSE I'M GIVING YOU IMPOTENCE LIKE I FROZE YOU FROM OUR FIRST MEETING.'
…
I blinked at the letter.
Then blinked again.
"…The hell?"
My hand instinctively dropped to guard the family jewels—reflexive, irrational… but entirely justified. If that first encounter proved anything, it's that he can mess with my body. So yeah—very justified.
I've done a lot under Orsted's command. Bought and sold a slave. Sabotaged a caravan shipment. Played Cupid for one couple. Crushed the romance of another.
But being threatened into reading a book? That officially tops the "Can It Get Any Weirder?" list, especially since the timing of this note seemed too good.
"Well," I muttered, casually snapping my fingers to incinerate the letter into ash, "guess it's time for a book-reading marathon."
No way in hell I was risking that. In my last life, I never even came close to having this kind of confidence—this kind of control over myself. The fact that I managed to crawl out of that pathetic shell and become someone who could stand tall, in more ways than one... I'm not about to let some cryptic lunatic take that away. Not now, not ever.
Grimacing at the thought, I snatched the red notebook, threw myself onto the bed, and cracked it open once more.
"Alright, masked freak," I muttered under my breath. "Let's see what else you've got for me."
And with that, I began to read.
///