Episode 2 - Dragged Down from the Throne
“Coward.”
Three seasons had passed since falling into another world. In terms of duration, it had been roughly six months.
And finally, Sirin properly pronounced the first intended word.
Damn it. Rather than being moved, it was absurd.
A memory of the root of this shitty situation surfaced. This was definitely the game Sirin had purchased.
…Probably.
Whether it was the Empire’s Decline or some other bullshit. The exact name of the game couldn’t be remembered.
It had been six months since suffering brain damage. Remembering the name of a game that hadn’t even been played would truly be a miracle.
At that thought, Sirin’s head began to ache again.
Am I a real person, or a game character that happened to gain self-awareness? With a man’s memories and a woman’s body, am I a man or a woman?
Is this even reality in the first place?
There was actually a simple answer to Sirin’s confusion.
That Sirin was simply crazy.
A lunatic of a medieval fantasy land who had dreamt a long, strange dream. Like a mad butterfly dreaming of Zhuangzi.
“To hell with that.”
Sirin no longer had any interest in such confusion. Over the past six months, Sirin had worried enough and reached an answer long ago.
Sirin had to solve more practical and concrete problems.
The sense of loss from the absence of that thing which should rightfully be in the lower half of the body.
After not being able to speak properly, or perhaps an even more damnable problem than that.
Sirin did not think long.
Sirin was in a damned situation, and only the fact that this situation had to be overcome mattered.
Being able to adapt well anywhere was one of Sirin’s few merits. Sirin’s intelligence wasn’t low, but knowledge was lacking and tended not to think too deeply.
Sirin looked over the system window.
[ ! The Cowards' Shelter Mode for Super Cowards ! ]
A hollow laugh escaped Sirin.
As if the name was mocking Sirin.
Well, since it was Sirin who chose the coward mode in the first place, there was no one to blame.
The coward mode came with various difficulty options befitting the caliber of its name.
The greatest among them was, of course.
[ HP Auto-Recovery Feature Active. HP will not fall below 1. ]
Even if HP reached 1, it would not fall below that. No matter what happened, death was impossible.
The so-called undying mode.
[ ↑ Total EXP Acquisition 500% ↑ ]
Even EXP inflation fitting for a coward mode.
But there was something even more eye-catching among them.
[ DLC - Using Martial Arts in Fantasy Land (Working Title) currently applied. ]
[ Comprehend and complete martial arts through insight (心得) and physical mastery (體得)! ]
Sirin sighed.
What the hell was that supposed to mean.
Sirin didn’t know much about martial arts.
At best, the level of knowledge about martial arts was having glanced at something like a wiki.
As far as Sirin knew, martial arts were something you obtained by going to a huge clan like the Huashan Sect or the Nangong Clan and learning something, or eating some nutritious carp.
Or falling off a cliff.
From that perspective, Sirin could be said to have already fulfilled one of the essential requirements for acquiring martial arts.
‘Well, I did fall off a cliff right after coming here.’
What the system said wasn’t entirely satisfying, but still, Sirin felt good.
Sirin was already feeling considerable satisfaction from merely being able to speak properly.
And regaining speech held the significance of being a small yet great first step toward achieving Sirin’s goals.
Sirin’s ultimate objectives.
First, return to being a man. Second, return home.
Over the past six months, Sirin had roughly thought about what to do after regaining speech.
Strictly speaking, Sirin’s plan had been a mental victory and torture of false hope to avoid going mad or despairing, but not anymore.
It had now become a distinctly achievable future.
This Fantasy Land was a world where magic, divine blessings, mysteries, and all sorts of other things were mixed together.
If those were used….
‘There must be a way to become a man and return home.’
Go to the imperial capital, the heart of the Empire where magic had advanced, or achieve a great feat to earn a divine blessing, or otherwise uncover some mystery.
“….”
But there was something to do before that.
Sirin had to repay the debts of gratitude owed to the old codger from the Church of Salvation and the bakery lady.
Sirin rose from the stream and washed up.
It had been a very long time.
Washing away the dirt and soot revealed the original features.
“….”
Sirin silently gazed at the face reflected in the stream.
Sirin couldn’t know how to describe that face.
In truth, Sirin didn’t care much.
Sirin muttered.
“I hate The Little Prince.”
The Little Prince had said that numbers cannot express essence, but Sirin did not agree. Sometimes a number could be the most appropriate expression.
Sirin’s appearance could be expressed simply in numerical values.
Charm: 180.
It meant that if there were 100 people of the opposite sex, all 100 would find Sirin attractive.
Moreover, Sirin’s Charm of 180 had overflown past 100.
It meant that even among the same sex, 80 out of 100 would feel sexual attraction toward Sirin.
It couldn’t be helped.
Sirin was the type to invest considerable effort into customizing characters.
If doing it at all, with big breasts, a pretty face, and a mysterious Eastern beauty concept.
Since it was the appearance to be seen most while playing the game, it was only natural to do so.
Moreover, perhaps due to system correction or something, Sirin was completely devoid of body odor.
Even after rolling around in mud balls, only the smell of dirt came off.
Of course, it wasn’t all good.
Because the result of Charm 180 had been an attempted abduction, Sirin had tried so hard to apply a race-change user patch.
After roughly drying off, Sirin threw on the rags again and headed for the village.
No longer wanting to be covered in mud.
But Sirin also didn’t want troublesome incidents happening because of the appearance.
So, the face was roughly covered with disheveled hair, and the bread pouch received from Marta was torn open and worn reversed like a mask.
‘They won’t be able to see like this.’
The footsteps were lighter than ever.
With the liberating feeling of now being able to speak properly, Sirin muttered to herself while walking, regardless of who might be listening.
“Boring, roses, into nostrils. Happiness is, burning, heretical side kick.”
Several passing villagers saw Sirin, startled, and gave way.
Whispers could seemingly be heard, saying the crazy bitch had finally started speaking words that weren’t curses, but was spewing even crazier nonsense.
In truth, Sirin was being quite careful in spitting out words.
Having grown somewhat accustomed to using tangled language circuits, a slip of the tongue could happen again if not careful.
‘I have to be careful. It’s not like I can say “thank you” when I want to say “you son of a bitch.”’
Having spoken with such caution, Sirin soon entered the village humming a tune.
Who knew being able to speak whatever came to mind could feel this good.
Even now, Sirin felt capable of laughing off the teasing of those damned brats from earlier.
…the moment that thought crossed Sirin’s mind, one of those very brats suddenly popped out from a street corner and blocked the way.
The brat looked at Sirin’s changed face and clumsy mask, momentarily bewildered, before soon making a characteristic sneering expression.
“What, Mmh-mmh! Crawled out again? Today what’s…”
Sirin’s brow twitched.
This damn brat.
The insults were pathetic, repeating the same words, yet how dare he have cursed at Sirin all this time.
Sirin had considered trying out a diverse array of civilized, physical destruction techniques on this little shit…. but refrained.
Beating this brat black and blue was easy.
But a much better idea than simply beating him was coming to Sirin’s mind.
“Hey. Hans.”
When Sirin called out in a low voice, the brat flinched and stepped back.
“…Huh?”
Hans felt shivers creep up his spine.
That crazy beggar bitch speaking proper words that weren’t curses! And even knowing his name!
In truth, Sirin knew the village’s information quite thoroughly, not just about Hans.
It is a widely known fact that beggars are quantum mechanical existences. Sirin was nowhere in the village, yet everywhere.
This was one of the various efforts for Sirin’s language recovery. The thought was that listening to as many stories as possible would help recovery.
What Sirin knew wasn’t limited to the village’s affairs.
Sirin was even thoroughly versed in the names of the mercenary scum causing disturbances in the village, and the trivial gossip that the scum of scum, Heres, had laid hands on Marie of the Wilson household.
Unbeknownst to Sirin, Sirin had already been performing a martial arts act. What Sirin had been doing was eavesdropping in a state of quantum superposition, an essential skill of the Beggars’ Sect.
Taking advantage of the brat’s hesitation, Sirin smoothly lowered the mask covering the face slightly.
The original features revealed briefly between disheveled locks, washed free of dirt and soot.
Though only a half-revealed sight, it was sufficient.
“Uh… uhh… uh?”
The brat’s eyes went wide. He gulped dryly.
“Uhhhh……?”
It was something Hans had never seen in his life.
It couldn’t be expressed with the simple word “pretty.”
Shining like moonlight in night fog, yet somehow unreal.
The skin briefly visible through dirty hair was strangely white and smooth, and the eyes were sharp yet deep.
A feeling of the mind becoming jumbled.
An intense otherworldliness that made one forget to even breathe, and an unidentified attraction blooming from that otherworldliness.
The heart thumped strangely, and the face began to burn for no reason.
“Why?”
Sirin asked and smirked. It was the kind of smile that, if there were 100 men, all 100 including gays would clutch their hearts.
“Ah, no… um…”
“Aren’t you going to say ‘Mmh-mmh’?”
“Uh, uhh….. Ah, no, it’s…!”
The brat didn’t know what to do.
It was only natural.
Sirin’s charm stat was 180.
To exaggerate a bit, it was a stat that, if born in Troy, might have become Helen, and if born in Shang, might have become Daji.
It meant an appearance that could ruin a nation with just a bit more postnatal effort like makeup.
Sirin narrowed the eyes and spoke.
“That thing in your hand. Isn’t it a stone? Didn’t you pick it up to throw at me?”
“Ah, no, um, it’s…!”
“Why don’t you throw it? If you’re going to throw it, hurry up.”
Hans felt a strange sensation.
A voice that seemed to be mocking yet soft.
With the feeling of having committed some great wrong, Hans unknowingly threw the stone and bowed his head deeply.
“S-sorry…!”
Sirin giggled and put the mask back on.
Now about to go to Peter again… this damn brat was following behind, fidgeting.
Seeing that, Sirin came up with a plan on the spot.
Right, after all that had been suffered at the hands of this damn brat, leaving after showing kindness was impossible.
Sirin hated law-breaking brats.
No matter how young a brat, one had to pay the price for their actions. Even more so if no one had made them do it.
‘Let’s return kindness twofold, and grudges… roughly twentyfold.’
Unbeknownst to Sirin, Sirin was quite a martial-arts-compatible human. Because the mad temperament resembled the Tang clan’s poison heart (毒心).
As if surveying something, Sirin looked around the surroundings, approached Hans, and squatted down.
Despite wearing a mask, it was a distance where beauty could be felt from beyond it.
When Sirin matched eye level and spoke in a soft, low voice, Hans felt like he couldn’t breathe.
“Why? You want to see me take the mask off?”
Those words were like an incantation that paralyzed Hans’s remaining reason.
Hans wanted to see. What lay beyond that mask, whether what he had just seen was real.
With a red face, Hans nodded as if entranced.
Sirin smiled with the eyes, as if satisfied. At that eye smile, Hans felt his heart drop once more.
Sirin checked behind Hans, but Hans didn’t know why.
Narrowing the eyes even more, Sirin spoke in a whisper.
“Then… would you say I’m pretty just once? Then I’ll think about it.”
Sirin’s voice was sweet, yet somewhere had a chilling aspect like the hissing of a snake.
“…..Noo….”
With a bright red face, Hans repeated after Sirin. To a brat like Hans, Sirin’s provocative eye smile and soft voice were little different from a hypnosis app.
A corner of the brat’s rationality was saying something was strange, but all of Hans’s nerves were focused solely on what lay beyond the mask.
“…….N-Noona… ye, ye……”
“Huh? I can’t hear you. I don’t know what you’re saying.”
Sirin tilted the head and asked again. At that sight, Hans grew more anxious. It felt like if he spoke just a little louder, just a bit more, Sirin would show him.
“N-Noona… you’re pretty…”
“Aw, that won’t do. It doesn’t seem sincere. If you really want to see, say it louder. You have to speak so I can hear.”
Sirin pressured him with a tone that was slightly whining, but firm.
With the hope that the mask might be taken off, and the impatience that hesitation might make him miss the chance, Hans squeezed his eyes shut and shouted almost as if screaming.
“N-Noona, you’re pretty! Really pretty!”
Sirin nodded as if satisfied.
Hans breathed heavily and looked at Sirin with eyes full of expectation. Now, Sirin would take off the mask.
Instead of taking off the mask, Sirin pointed behind with a finger.
“Uh…?”
It was time for this law-breaking brat to pay the price for his misdeeds until now.