I like stories that are hymns to humanity.
More than like them—I’ve consumed nearly every decent one out there. To an almost fanatical degree.
If someone asked me why I liked them, I think I’d probably give an answer anyone could sympathize with.
A spirit that shines like gold, refusing to crumble even before bitter adversity and trials.
The nobility of not abandoning one’s humanity until the very end, even when driven to the limit in wealth, strength, and every other respect.
Even when it isn’t a fight or some important scene, the elements that quietly reveal themselves in the everyday conversations between characters are the real delicacy.
Things that don’t easily happen in reality.
How many truly human people are there in the world? I’m not even that kind of remarkable person myself.
If I had seen such things in real life, I might have died soaked through with emotion and joy.
“What the hell is this sorry state?”
Like an alchemist who willingly sacrificed himself for his brother’s arm, or the mustached gentleman of a proud family who handed over all his power and died a heroic death.
If there was one thing that made me different from them, it was that I didn’t have the courage to take my own life.
I had always struggled to break free from my role, and this guy had never given me the chance to do that.
And now had been the perfect time to exit this trashy world where [if I failed to rehabilitate you, everything would be destroyed].
“Your arm’s about to fall off, your legs are twisted like pretzels, and—oh, great. Who left all those hickeys on you? Why is one of your eyes fucked up?”
“How did you get here…?”
“You asked for help. Did you think I wouldn’t hear you sobbing?”
“Wh-who said I was sobbing?!”
The man before my eyes was the protagonist.
The role assigned to me was the heroine.
To be honest, the character I had possessed had no value beyond being material for his awakening.
Sure, I was his partner at the academy and the heroine in the game, but as if I’d be crazy enough to wag my tail at some man just to win his favor. And since my body looked frail no matter who saw it, the protagonist treated me like a toy.
You know, the kind that shrieks noisily when you poke it.
Or like an armrest, or a spicy pork stir-fry machine… Looking back, the way I was treated really was a spectacle.
This thing… is a heroine?
“You and Isha saved all those people. Good work. I’ll be right back, so rest for a bit. I’ll handle the rest.”
Still, compared to my miserable state, it seemed that guy was a little better than I had thought.
“Watch closely with the one good eye you’ve got left. It’s been a while since I got serious.”