When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was black rock—blurred, out of focus.
He tried to move, but his body answered with nothing but restraints and pain.
"What the hell…? Why does it hurt so much? Where am I? I literally just went to the bathroom—did someone knock me out?"
The throbbing in his head eased a little. The boy forced himself to shake off the haze, blinking hard until his vision cleared, then hurriedly checked his surroundings.
"What kind of dump is this… I'm never traveling abroad again…"
It was dark and damp. Calling it a "room" felt generous—more like a prison cell carved out of a mountain tunnel. The rocky ground was uneven, with only a few scattered clumps of dry straw. The only light came from beyond a stone wall protected by iron bars.
The glow flickered unsteadily.
A torch.
In the weak firelight, he lowered his gaze—and his heart sank.
He was dressed in a rag that barely covered him. His hands and feet were tied with thick hemp rope. He couldn't move.
All the signs, stacked together, formed a single possibility in his mind.
"No way… I got kidnapped? W-w-what do I do…?"
Panic surged up his spine. He twisted and struggled on instinct—only to learn how pointless it was.
The noise quickly drew attention from somewhere nearby, a corner of the cell he hadn't even noticed.
"Stop wasting your strength," an old voice said, weary and thin. "You're just a normal person without a Falna. There's no way you're getting out of that rope. Save your energy—figure out how to live a few more days and how to fill your stomach for the next meal."
The boy jolted, startled. He snapped his head toward the sound.
His eyesight was decent—good enough that, after a moment, he made out a figure almost fused into the shadows. If he hadn't stared carefully, he might've missed the man completely.
"A… living person?"
In a place like this, a living person should've been good news. The boy felt a brief rush of relief—until he realized something else.
That old man wasn't speaking any language he recognized.
And yet… he understood every word.
But compared to the situation he was in, that mystery barely mattered.
"Who are you?" he asked cautiously. "Where is this?"
He spoke in Chinese, fully prepared for the other man to look at him like he'd lost his mind. He was already scrambling in his head for English greetings, for any language at all—
—and then the old man answered as if he'd understood perfectly.
"Me? Just another unlucky bastard who got caught up in it. As for this place… kid, you've got rotten luck. Getting dragged here at your age? Your life's basically over. Those people—Evilus—every last one of them is cruel."
The old man sounded weak, like his lungs were running on fumes. He'd clearly been imprisoned for a long time; whatever strength he used to have was nearly gone.
But his words hit the boy like a hammer.
Evilus? What the hell is that—some terrorist organization?
Where did they drag him?
Is this still his country?
These days even tourist spots have terrorists lurking around? And even if they did—why kidnap him?
Questions flooded his mind, tangling into a choking knot. Fear washed over him so hard his hair stood on end.
Then, after a solid ten seconds of his brain completely short-circuiting, the silence of the cell forced his rationality back to the surface.
He sucked in a deep breath and compelled himself to calm down. He needed information—real information—anything that could anchor him and keep the terror from swallowing him whole.
"Sir… were you taken too?" he asked. "And what exactly is Evilus? An organization?"
The old man paused.
"You… seriously? You don't even know Evilus? Are you not from Orario?"
"…Orario?" the boy echoed, his face going blank. "Evilus… Orario… Why do those sound so familiar…"
His eyes widened.
"Wait—no. This place… is it the Dungeon?"
The boy was stunned.
"So you do know," the old man said, a faint trace of sarcasm slipping into his voice. "When they brought you here, did they smash your head in or something?"
The boy didn't even have the spare attention to respond to the jab.
His mind was still stuck in the same place, looping over one impossible conclusion.
"So I… transmigrated?"
He'd just graduated from college. He was supposed to go out into the world and do something with his life.
And now he'd died—or been yanked into another world—before he'd even taken a single proper step.
Was this some god's joke? Or some divine blessing, sending him to a fantasy world to make a name for himself?
…Why did the idea make him feel a tiny bit excited?
And then the excitement crashed headfirst into reality.
Oh.
This was worse.
"My chances of going home…" he muttered, voice hollow, "…are probably pretty slim."
He stared, dumbfounded.
The old man watched him from the shadows, seeing his expression flicker from elation to shock to despair. Any hint of interest the old man had sparked—snuffed out.
He'd thought he might at least have someone to talk to before he died.
Instead, he'd found an idiot.
What a world.
Xien—his name was Xien—forced himself to ignore the old man's mood and focused on sorting out his situation.
First: if what the old man said was true, this was the world of the Japanese light novel and anime Is It Wrong to Try to Pick Up Girls in a Dungeon? The story took place in a city called Orario, where gods lived alongside mortals, forming familias. A boy named Bell Cranel left his hometown, came to Orario, became an adventurer, grew stronger in the monster-filled Dungeon, and chased after "encounters."
All the extra details could wait.
The part that mattered—right now—was brutally simple.
In this world where gods granted Falna and adventurers climbed levels… he was currently locked up by some dark familia—maybe the Rudra Familia, maybe another black-aligned deity—imprisoned in a cell like an animal.
So forget "starting a new life."
He couldn't even guarantee he'd survive the next few days.
"This is… the definition of a hellish start," Xien muttered through clenched teeth. "Since when did transmigrating come with this much suffering?"
He felt numb.
Because everything in front of him directly erased the very first step of every fantasy he'd ever had: join a familia, receive a Falna, become a real adventurer with levels and power.
But to leave this place, he needed power.
And to get power, he needed a Falna.
And to get a Falna, he needed to find a god willing to accept him.
And to do that, he needed to get out of this place first.
He stared into the darkness, lips twitching.
"Great. Closed loop. Perfect logic."
What kind of sick joke was this?
Xien's eyes burned with frustration. A suffocating sense of grievance rose in his chest, and he started struggling again, forcing his bound limbs to move.
Beside him, the old man sighed helplessly.
Yeah.
Definitely an idiot.
-------
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