"Then... Take care!"
A guy I didn't know bade farewell to me, swaying around like plants on the side of the road. Or maybe I'm just too drunk to recognize him.
"… Yeah."
Still, I managed to muster a rather lame response, almost a whisper. I don't really care if he heard me, it was just a response on instinct.
I wasn't much better by the sound of my voice, but at least there's still the faint trace of being sober left in me. Sober enough to head towards my residence's building, conveniently nearby and take the elevator to the eleventh floor.
I found a lift attendant welcoming my sight, with an impassive expression as she slowly covered her nose. Without speaking she pressed the numbers on the elevator.
Before I knew it, I was already in front of a door. But I knew better, that when drunk, time seems to pass faster than it should. Unfortunately all the doors here looked the same.
I was unsure whether I was in the right door but luckily my key fit right in and this time it wasn't the wrong room. I'd be troubled if it was wrong, since I've already gone through this a couple of times, with success and failure hand in hand.
"Finally…"
I headed straight to the bedroom after locking the door, and I collapsed on my bed like a rag still wearing my suit.
It was always the calm before the storm after a drinking party, it's probably gonna be a horrible morning tomorrow for my head. The good thing is that it's a Friday night, which means I get to suffer without missing a day of work tomorrow.
That also means I get to take a break from a bunch of dealing with shitheads.
Dizziness soon took over my head and I closed my eyes.
Unfortunately sleepiness never crept in because of the uncomfortable swell of my stomach even after some time, so like an instinct, I took out my phone and started browsing. Browsing for novels specifically.
I loved reading novels. It's easy to do and immerses me in my own imagination.
These novels kept me company during nights where I couldn't sleep.
There were a bunch that were already marked as completed in my library, so just like any reader, I looked for new ones on the recommendations, saving my favorites for when I'm sober enough to enjoy reading.
I scrolled for a long time, until one title in particular made me stop.
'The Failed Hero's Transmigration'
'Status: Ongoing'
'Chapters: 412'
A transmigrator. An overused plot where the protagonist starts a new life in another world. Either as a completely unknown extra, or one of the protagonists or villains with well known backstory and development. It was common to find title's like these nowadays. And also the genre of novels where I started.
'Tags: Fantasy, Tragedy, Adventure, Magic, Romance, Etc…'
There were many other variants like reincarnation, regression, and even reverse transmigration. Among those, regression was probably my favorite. There was just something satisfying about reliving life once again and doing better than before using knowledge of the future.
Perhaps it was so popular because people liked to imagine reliving their life all over again and changing all the decisions they regret.
And I had to admit that there was a time that I felt the same. But the days when I would read such a story for weeks were long gone. Except, during the nights I can't fall asleep. To this day, these stories were still cherished somewhere in my heart.
There wasn't any cover on the story. There's only the title plainly plastered in it.
'Failure, to him, is like a second nature. To a world where awakeners become a hero, Arlen was a bottom rung, F-Rank class awakener with a limited power barely enough to protect himself and make a living.
Failure and weakness clung to him like a curse as he died unable to protect his family, witnessing their death before his eyes. After all the darkness, he awakened in a new world, to a new body without the constraints of his previous life.
Embracing his second chance, he dedicates himself to growing stronger and protecting his newfound family, vowing to never be weak again. Haunted by his failures, he forges ahead with determination, obsessed on becoming even slightly stronger than he was ever able to.'
It was an interesting enough novel to catch my attention. Due to reading too much I could basically picture the whole plot and to some extent, already knew what to expect. But that never fails to excite me nonetheless.
I could always refer to the comments on how good the novel is rather than just the rating. Reading it will be my final way of judging whether I'll see the novel through, while the comments help me build anticipation. Thus my eyes scanned the comment section.
And there was one. At the top of them all. With the most dislikes.
'@Plotarmor: Another copy paste of a junk food story for young men who can't change their lives but keep reading shit like this.'
"Huh?"
The first few sentences caught me off guard. I mean, it is a story meant for rather young, but not that young audiences. Even I, an adult, can enjoy it, you know? Besides, I am basically here to read and be unproductive while enjoying my time.
'There's probably no stakes at all with shallow dense mc and only females who want to be with him lol.'
I mean… There's certainly a lot of those. It can't be that bad right? Also, it seems like he's just assuming what's gonna happen before even reading it.
'It's just another dog shit novel with a dog shit genre that basically brings nothing to the plot.'
Hold up. Now those just made me sober but dizzy at the same time. I felt a bit more awake because of that. The genre is phenomenal and it's not like that everytime. No matter what he says, there's a reason why this type of novel suddenly popped off like a contamination and swarmed the web with copy paste stories.
'@TransmigratedCapybara: I understand that a novel can be bad, but the genre itself is good and hooked up a lot of fans over time with its success.'
'@Plotarmor: Fans? You mean brain dead kids who want to be edge lords. Irl, a modern day transmigrator would be dead ass wishing he died bc of the shitty backwards life. These kinds of stories pander to pple that want better lives but doesn't put out the work for it.'
'@Plotarmor: And the characters are just there to glorify the mc! The love interests are a ton of helpless cat girls who rely on mc, without the so-called special plot armor nothing will basically progress!'
This guy is a hater. Yep. Definitely sure of it. But this guy probably read a lot of the same type of novel he hated to be this riled up. I know that feeling, when the disappointment piles up and expectations are not met, you start hating what you used to love.
'@TransmigratedCapybara: It's a story, not meant to be real life. Of course it'd go well, or sometimes not, it's fully dependent on the author.
Also, how'd you know life in another world would be shitty? To me you look like a fan who used to like what he now hates the most, namely, these very types of stories. And, there's already a lot of good stories with the same genre out there with all the good versions of side characters and love interests you hate so much.
Besides, how bad can life be in another world? People fantasize about it, and read it precisely because it is something unreachable from our reality.'
'@TransmigratedCapybara: Even if you don't like it, doesn't mean it's bad, that's just you tired from reading too much of the same genre and plot. So don't read it and move on, there's no need to diss a story you didn't read and even include the genre. It's still a good one, just not something that you like anymore.'
There wasn't any comment for a while. I guess that's that. I'll be the judge whether it's good, bad, or just doesn't fit my taste.
Just before I started I saw a red notification on the corner of my screen. It was a personal dm.
'@Plotarmor: Then prove it to me. Prove that the trope and genre you love so much is still good. I am honestly tired of it all, so show me something good.'
All that came to me was confusion.
How am I going to prove it to him and why should I? I'd rather look for something to read than waste my time.
'@Plotarmor: I'll take the lack of response as a yes then. Do you still want to back out?'
Isn't it supposed to be the other way around? Anyways I should just block the guy. I'd rather start reading the novel.
I hit the block button and there was no more. Nothing. Or anything at all.
***
There is an unfamiliar scene before me.
Rough walls made of wood and stone, old furniture and wooden cabinets, and a huge worn out bed with a woman lying on it, her arms lying down listlessly. The room was dimly lit by something like a lamp. The bed where a motionless woman laid down, is surrounded by a man and a middle aged woman.
An alarming amount of blood stained the fabric the woman is lying on.
I didn't wake up in my room but instead… Here, whatever this place is. This could be a dream, one where I felt too aware of my surroundings.
I stared blankly waiting for the dream to end. Not bothering too much about its meaning or what's happening. However I slowly became aware of my surroundings far too vivid to be a dream. My heart pounded as the unfamiliar sensation of nervousness crept on me.
'Where… am I?'
That thought immediately reminded me of one thing, as if it were a keyword. It was a very familiar phrase I've read countless times in every book I read. My dizziness and drowsiness were long gone, the expected hangover and headache didn't come and the alarm that pissed me off didn't wake me up.
I looked at my hands. All the calluses and rough skin were gone, replaced by small fingers with delicate and soft skin.
I touched my face and the rough sensation of stubbles growing off my face became smooth and plump skin. Based on the feeling of my feet, I was standing but still significantly have a rather low view than what I'm used to.
'I'm… a kid?'
While my thoughts drifted away at the absurdity of the situation, a man had come to kneel in front of me. Seeing his face, memories flashed in my head along with a slight pain… and I recognized him as my father.
No, this kid's father.
He patted my shoulder and looked at my eyes. It was a complicated gaze, wondering what to say to his child. But in the end only a few words came out.
"Lotte."
When he called by that name, it seemed to resonate with me.
"Mother will be leaving us for a while. She has to go somewhere far away, but someday, we will surely meet her again."
He embraced me with his arms, which would usually appall me. Receiving a hug form a burly man was the least of what I preferred to experience upon waking up.
But there was something lingering deep in my chest that made me still. A familiar feeling I used to have.
Grief.
"Until then, be a good brother to your sisters, my son."
He looked towards a basket with white clothes. There are three bundles of white cloth wound around something small.
"Edna, Alea and Guin. Remember their names well. From now on, they're also a part of our family. Love them as your mother loved you."
He smiled slightly and stood up. After that all sorts of memories flooded my brain once again. There was a sharp pain that coursed through my head as it all came to me.
Memories that Lotte has lived, his thoughts when his father first yelled at him due to hurting a playmate and how his mother cared for him when he was sick.
However it was all insignificant to me in this situation. The pain that came along with the memories reminded me that I am awake right now and that everything before me was reality.
There was only one thing in my mind right now.
It happened to me.
That so called Transmigration.
***
Lotte sat by the window in a thatched house as he stared into the distance, it was a rather old fashioned house similar to western rural houses he'd seen. It was quite a sight compared to the plain and simple buildings he was used to.
He had waited for a while if he's ever going to wake up from this overly realistic dream, but unfortunately he was met with disappointment as his mothers funeral just concluded days ago.
The woman had turned out to be his mother who died after giving birth to triplets. It was ironic, since Lotte being in this body means the original son has somehow disappeared and similarly died. His 'father' just lost both his wife and son.
The burial method has a certain uniqueness to it, and an old man who's the so-called village chief presided over the funeral as he recited a rite of passage. He understood the language used by the village chief and everyone else without problem. But he neither knew how to read nor write.
His mothers coffin was filled with various flower bouquets and wreaths brought by the villagers that represent hope, goodwill and rebirth in the flower language. Flowers were thrown in the casket, before burning and setting it adrift in a river in the middle of the village.
After that each family offered some fruits and vegetables along with flowers to us which is one of their customs, to appease the loss of the aggrieved family. There's honestly quite a lot, since there were several families and almost a hundred people.
I later discovered that those who attended were everyone in the village. It is almost only at the scale of a small community compared to modern day standards.
My 'father' had left me alone most of the time and busily tended to the three newly born infants. I often catch him looking at me with a complicated expression. Like he was thinking what to do with me.
Perhaps he doesn't know what to say to his son, who lost his mother and started behaving strangely.
For the past few days, I had rarely talked or went out. I was busy sorting out my thoughts. Figuring things out is my top priority. There is no doubt that I'm definitely in a fantasy themed world.
That guy had said it himself. That bastard who dissed the novel I was trying to read.
Just after a day since I went to this world, everything came to a stop when I was alone and I heard a voice in my head.
***
'How is it? Did you have a good sleep?'
I jumped back in fright and looked back. But there was no one else around me. I heard the voice clear like it was right next to me or even inside my head.
"What the hell? Who's there?"
'Unfortunately, I am not 'there'. But I am watching you, after all we have a deal.'
A response came immediately talking about things I don't understand. A deal? What kind of deal and when did I agree? Also, he's watching me but he's not there? A camera? Is this a magical prank?
'That would be interesting, but it's not a prank. It's as real as it can be.'
'You can read my thoughts? This is supernatural alright.'
If he can really read my thoughts then I can fully believe that he really does talk from my head, I just hope it's not because I'm mentally ill and this is all hallucination. I've already been in this place for a day, remotely strange events would already be acceptable to me by now.
'I can't. Only the thoughts you don't really have any care about can be clearly seen or understood by me. I can't pry anything more than that without breaking your mind. Being a mentally ill patient is interesting too though.'
Hearing those words, it finally clicked to me. It was one of those types.
The one I'm talking to, is some sort of an entity. The type of entity responsible for sending people into the otherworld.
'Bullseye! You got that right. I am that guy who's tired of all the transmigration, regression, or another world reincarnation, you name it. I am tired of all the mass produced works! I want to see something more than the ones I've read.'
'But why am I here? Why me? Where am I?'
I turned around in fright as I felt something whisper behind me. But as expected there was nothing at all.
'Did you forget? I said we had a deal.'
'You might have not read it but.. I took your silence as a yes, since you didn't speak against it. I even told you a few tips and then here we are.'
'But… I never agreed! I ignored you!'
'It's the same thing. Ignorance can't stop me from sending you to another world. Also, it's not like you were entirely against it. I asked if I can take your silence as an agreement, remember? I even gave you a chance to back out. But nope. You didn't, and oh I'm so glad we're here together.'
"What kind of bullshit is that? I never agreed! That's just an unfair assumption! What kind of god or entity are you to do whatever you want?"
'The kind that you can't do anything about.'
It was all bullshit. Just like that, I'll be here in this unknown world and live as Lotte? His family ain't even my real family! Nothing in this world that I enjoy is present! It's uncomfortable and life is backwards and… Wait. Isn't this exactly what…
A faint snicker could be heard around me as I stopped on my thoughts.
'I'm glad we have the same opinion. But hold your thoughts. You're supposed to be on the other side of the spectrum.'
'Anyways, for a little consolation, I assigned you a rather convoluted character. You can either die a dog's death or die a great person. Or somehow live.'
'I wanted to put you on a completely normal body but I'm merciful so here you are. In a body that can either be normal or special depending on your own capability and opportunity. Well then, there's still a long time till the story goes. Suit yourself and do whatever you want.'
If I'm in a novel… Then which one is it?
'It's that novel. The one where we 'met' and argued. I hadn't read it too, but soon I will, from a first class and live action view too. With some variable added, which is you.'
The Failed Hero's Transmigration? Shit, it was a fantasy-tragedy genre too! Had I read that then I might've had some advantage… These types of stories can go hardcore when it comes to the protagonist's struggle.
'I'll see you again if you make it! Or maybe not if I lost interest. Oh, one last thing. You're not the protagonist of this story. I put you in an extra that was never supposed to appear. One of the victims, never supposed to be seen again. So, good luck.'
Instinctively I felt the world around me flow once again. While I was left with a lot of unanswered questions and something floating in my face.
Time until Chapter 1: 7 years, 24 days and 3 hours.
***
'Yeah, that damned novel.'
The novel I briefly saw before falling asleep. For the first time in my life I regretted not reading a novel, and for an absurd reason. Had I read that I would at least have a great advantage here in this world. Furthermore…
"Tragedy huh…"
It was right next to 'Fantasy' which bodes ill for me. What kind of tragedy does this story have? I can only hope that the author didn't write any drastic stuff in there.
If I had enough preparation, then I might be able to deal with tragedies that might come my way. Is it seven years for that time frame of preparation? But that's way too much. Something's up.
He said that there's still a long time before the story goes. Did the story start already somewhere? Why is the time gap so goddamn big? Other transmigrators would be powerhouses by that time.
Usually a story is depicted in scenes for convenience's sake, it's the case for almost any story. Who would read a story about a protagonist's daily life each day? There's bound to be an uninteresting day or two in our daily lives that we can't avoid, but in a story that is unnecessary and skipped to keep the flow of the plot smoothly.
Unless it was purposely written that way by an absurdly capable author that can keep pumping out interesting chapters about a character's detailed life every single day without skipping.
Well those gaps, where no story or scenes occur, will be my chance to prepare against any threat towards my life. After reading countless novels I had a realization that an author's favorite is making the characters swept away in a situation unavoidably no matter what they do in the end.
It was something to take note of, since I've seen many stories that have those same developments, and some are really well done and foreshadowed.
In this world, in my perspective and everyone else's, we are living our lives, and not reading our story. If fate exists in this world, that would be the story written by the author. And I, as a character, is just a puppet dancing in the palm of his hands, living based on his whims without being aware of it.
'Except, I'm aware of it. Though there's hardly anything I can do, since I'm just a kid now.'
I'm still agonizing over the fact that it was me who was brought into this world. But what's done is already done. Who knows, I might really wake up and everything turns out to be one piece of shit realistic dream.
For now, I need to live on. And prepare for the worst things to come.
It's a problem that I have to do all that in a kid's physique though.
With that being said, my determination will be the biggest factor in yielding results that can help me in the future.
First, since I'm in a fantasy oriented novel with a tragedy tag, a strong, flexible but tough physique is indispensable to my battle prowess. I plan to exercise and train right away, my frail and childish body be damned.
There's bound to be absurd creatures and monsters in a fantasy-tragedy novel. If there were none, then it might be the people I might have to deal with, or both at the same time. I just hope that the tragedy is not some force of nature that can't be avoided.
Second, I need information. I need to know where this place is, the kingdoms and empires, the powerhouses and even legends, and what it takes to have influence whether it's through status, skill or actual fantasy like reason such as being a magician or a great knight.
Aside from that, there's a need to watch out for any plots and developments to either steer away from it, or get involved to prevent affecting me negatively in advance.
I can do that if I have an information guild but I neither know how to make or manage one. I'm gonna have to find someone to do it for me, that's how protagonists made an information network. It's gonna need a lot of money, which I don't know if I can even gather enough of.
Power, Knowledge and Wealth. It's not much different from what any ambitious man would desire in any world.
Come to think of it, a triplet in a rural village like this is a sore thumb sticking out. They obviously have a role to play in the future.
But, there's one more thing.
How should I treat my family, specifically my father? He was Lotte's only family. There won't be any problems with my three sisters since they will grow up knowing the 'me' version of Lotte, but his father might find me strange, or perhaps he already does.
I looked around and saw my father clumsily trying to change the napkins of my sisters, and beside him was one of our neighbors who helped feed them. He had no choice but to ask for help since mother, who was supposed to take on that role, had died.
He seems like a good father if anything else, being flustered and dedicated to his daughters like that even after losing his wife. He didn't even make any time to get depressed and focused on his responsibilities right away.
Since I've changed he's bound to notice it sooner or later, and acting like a kid isn't really something I'm willing to do.
Well, luckily I'm still young. That means I can slowly change myself into my liking and just behave the way I am naturally. It can be passed off as growing up and anyone who questions me can take it or leave it.
Now then.
My life inside a story with an unknown fate awaits.