I remain still, motionless, my heart still shaken by what I've just witnessed. The raindrops fall incessantly on my hair and clothes, now soaked through.
It seems I've been mysteriously transported to another world; if I were to use a Japanese term, I'd say I've been thrust into an *Isekai*.
I sigh. "It can't get any worse than this." While I was lost in my thoughts, a young couple walks by under a single red umbrella, creating an almost romantic atmosphere in contrast to my solitude.
Their muffled laughter mixes with the sound of the rain beating incessantly on the pavement, while the fresh scent of the rain permeates the air, accentuating my sense of isolation.
"Hey, honey, look! There's a guy our age getting completely soaked in the rain," says the short-haired girl, her face lighting up with a mixture of curiosity and compassion as she points at me with a thin finger.
I realize that my figure, now drenched, stands out clearly against the grayness of the day, making me an easy target for their gaze.
"Ah, just ignore him. He's just a poor loser who forgot his umbrella," the boy responds with a mocking smile, raising an eyebrow with an air of arrogance and pride, as if he were above any human emotion.
The scornful tone of his voice bounces around in my head, leaving a void in my chest, a sense of humiliation that paralyzes me for a moment.
The girl nods, her eyes seeming for a moment to want to say something more, but then she lets herself be pulled away, and the two continue on their way, their shadows stretching as they walk off, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
The "poor loser," meaning me, feels as though I've been struck by an imaginary arrow in my chest. Even though it doesn't physically hurt, I feel a dull pain, an invisible wound that keeps throbbing with every drop of rain that slides down my body, as if nature itself were trying to wash away my dignity.
[The fame of the role: Loser has increased.]
[The role: Loser has reached the maximum level. You have earned 5 stat points.]
"What?!" I exclaim, startled by the message that appears before my eyes, floating in the air like a translucent hologram, the bright blue letters standing out against the gloomy sky.
I try to touch it, but my hand passes through, as if it were made of smoke or pure light, leaving me even more confused.
[Name: Orion Lennox (17)]
[Role: Loser lv. 10 (Max)]
[Vitality: 9]
[Strength: 7]
[Agility: 7]
[Intellect: 11]
[Fortune: 1]
[Perception: 10]
[Stat points: 50]
[Traits: None]
Immediately after, another screen, similar to a status interface found only in games, novels, manga, etc., appears in front of my eyes.
The detailed stats seem to illustrate my miserable existence, each blinking number reflecting the harsh reality of my life. My name, "Orion Lennox," is displayed at the top, a reminder of my identity now tied to this strange system.
"A status profile?" I rub my eyes, incredulous, trying to figure out if this is an illusion, a trick of my tired and stressed mind from the surreal situation. The writings remain there, floating like persistent ghosts.
"It's not an illusion," I murmur to myself, almost unable to believe what I'm seeing. A shiver runs down my spine as I realize that what's happening to me might be all too real.
[Congratulations! The role: Loser has reached the maximum level.]
The letters shine before me, accompanied by a sound that echoes in my mind, like a small bell marking a bitter victory. The title, "Loser," seems to mock me, reflecting my life so far, filled with defeats and humiliations.
[You can create a new role!]
[Each role can reach up to level 10, and for each level, you gain 5 stat points.]
[Each role gains experience through the growth of popularity.]
[Stat points can be distributed as you wish.]