🟠 Chapter 2:
"Really? Thank you, that's kind of you!"
The man smiled with an exaggerated politeness and extended his hand, saying:
"My name is Boral. I work as an independent guide... I help newcomers settle in Valoris in exchange for some simple services. Let's start by finding you a job, what do you say?"
I started to feel something suspicious in his tone, although it was masked by excessive politeness. But since I had no other choice...
"All right, Mr. Boral, I appreciate any help."
"No need for formalities, just call me Boral... Come with me, I know someone in the market who runs a small business and needs an extra hand."
We walked through the streets of Valoris. Though the place seemed calm, I noticed some people giving me strange looks. Was it my clothes? Or perhaps my Japanese face that didn't fit in this world?
Boral led me to a small stall selling drinks and simple food. He gave me three bronze coins and said:
"Take these and buy something to eat. You'll feel better when we reach the master."
"No thanks, I'm fine. Just take me to the person who needs help."
"Don't be shy, have something to eat. After all, you came from far away."
"Well, since you insist."
I went to the stall, bought some bread and a drink, and handed one of the coins to the vendor... He looked at it for a second then started giving me strange looks, and then looked at another customer. It felt suspicious. I left the stall heading back to Boral but he was nowhere to be found. I searched among the stalls but to no avail. Then I saw the vendor and the customer inside the stall—and with them were police officers heading towards me?
Two guards came rushing and grabbed me firmly.
"You! Stay where you are! You're accused of using counterfeit currency!"
"What? Wait! I don't understand!"
"We have witnesses who saw the coin. This is a crime punishable by prison."
Had this so-called Boral tricked me? Is that why he disappeared?
"But the man who gave me the coin…"
"Everyone says that."
And so, on my very first day in this world, I ended up in a filthy prison over a coin I never even asked for…
If I ever meet Boral again, I'll make him pay twice over.
The guards took me to what looked like a fortress made of black stone, its very walls spoke cruelty. Above the gate was a sign that read: "Valoris Correctional Prison"—but there was nothing corrective about it. It was more like a factory that manufactures villains.
The escorting guard's voice thundered:
"Move your feet, counterfeiter! Be grateful we didn't cut off your hand!"
"Counterfeiter?! I told you a hundred times, I didn't know the coin was fake! A man named Boral gave it to me!"
The guard struck my back to shut me up.
"Everyone has a story. Keep it to yourself."
We arrived at the prison's reception office—a bald man whose face was as cold and expressionless as the prison walls was writing in a massive ledger.
He looked up with little interest and asked:
"Name?"
"Takashi Takero."
"Your name's as weird as you are, counterfeiter."
He kept jotting down information and then looked to the guard:
"Cell 57…"
The guard led me through a long hallway where screams, laughter, and fighting could be heard coming from the cells. The place felt like a madhouse.
Suddenly, we stopped. A rusty iron door creaked open, and I was pushed inside.
The cell was empty… except for a stone-like bed, a bucket in the corner, and a small window barely letting air through.
The guard smiled oddly and said:
"Stay alive… you might leave here with a mission bigger than you think."
Then he shut the door behind me and walked away.
That was my first night here. I didn't realize I wasn't just imprisoned…
I was cast into a play—and I was the only actor without a script.
I woke up this morning hoping everything that happened was just a nightmare…
But reality was harder than the cell wall.
Yeah, my first morning in this new world… spent in prison. Truly a legendary start.
Who wrote this story? Were they writing it from inside a cell? Because that's exactly how it feels.
My bones have been playing a symphony of pain since I laid on this bed.
And then there's Nuul…
"I'll be watching you, Takashi Takero."
Really? And where are you now, Mr. Observer?
Is this your idea of watching? Can't you see I'm turning into a despair-filled pancake here?
I looked at my hand. Nothing.
My skill? Useless.
No XP, no resources, just a screen that says "Welcome, User."
Then it disappears, like it's mocking me.
I screamed inside:
"I was transported to this world against my will,
then thrown into jail over a scam I had nothing to do with,
and now I'm expected to quietly accept my fate?!"
Then I sighed.
"All right, Takero… enough whining.
Novels are one thing, life here is another.
No one's getting you out of here but yourself."
I stood up. My joints cracked like an old rusty robot.
I looked through the tiny window at the gray sky.
I overestimated the people here—
There seem to be folks in this world worse than the worst people in the real world.
A guard approached the cell with mechanical steps.
He opened the iron door carelessly, like opening a storage closet.
In a gruff voice, he said:
"Breakfast time, kid."
Breakfast?
My first meal in this new world will be… in prison.
What a thrilling start.
No need for high hopes.
My gut tells me I'm about to eat a plate full of depression.
The guard led me through cold hallways toward what they called the canteen.
To kill boredom, I tried some small talk:
"You know, I thought guards were the ones bringing us food."
He glanced at me and said dryly:
"Yeah, we do… in the special cells.
Want to transfer there?"
Uh… no thanks, I think I prefer fresh air.
We finally arrived at the cafeteria.
Not sure if that's the right word—the place looked more like a complete health code violation.
Rotting wooden tables, an indescribable weird smell, and an atmosphere soaked in despair.
I looked at the guard sarcastically:
"So, what's on the menu today?"
"Porridge."
"Ah. And lunch?"
"Porridge."
"…And dinner?"
"Porridge."
I nodded silently and said:
"Got it. This place doesn't just feed you, it teaches you the philosophy of repetition."
I sat down at one of the abandoned tables—the best-case scenario for me.
The last thing I want is to get bullied by inmates like every American prison movie ever.
But… of course, peace never lasts.
"Can I sit next to you?"
I looked up, a little tense…
But he looked normal. No criminal vibes.
Messy mid-length black hair, and wait…
His features Asian? Japanese?
"Uh, yeah, sure. Go ahead."
I fought my curiosity.
Could he be Japanese like me?
Should I ask? Does he feel it too?
I hoped he'd say something in Japanese like "Aniki" or "Konnichiwa"…
But instead, he looked at my plate and said:
"You've been staring at my porridge for a while…
Want it?"
Well… I got carried away with expectations.
I smiled awkwardly:
"No, no thanks.
My porridge is enough…
It even haunts me in my dreams."
Before I could say anything else, he suddenly said:
"Hey… you."
"Yes?"
"Are you Japanese?"