Chapter One
Hikigaya Hachiman is not a LN protagonist.

The ideal fantasy life is a lie. It is a well-created, fantastic vision that manages to delude a large majority of the populace who read high-fantasy or isekai novels, but that vision is nothing but a deceptive illusion nonetheless.

Forget about all the things that isekai novels like to talk about. Forget about making money by patenting an idea that doesn't exist in this world but did in the modern era. Forget about starting a one-man industrial revolution like you've dreamed about if you were to get zapped to another world.

Take all the things you ever thought you knew about living in a medieval age, and burn them in an incinerator.

Wait, those don't exist here.

In which case, take all the things you ever thought you knew about living in a medieval age and reduce them into ashes with a fireball.

As a Japanese adolescent born into the lush life of modern domesticity, I was not prepared in the slightest for what my new life would bring. Orario was far from the fantasy paradise I had envisioned in my younger years, when I would frequently wonder if I would ever have the chance to step into another world. Back then, when I had still been a hot-blooded young lad, I had constantly dreamed about what I would do if I ever had the chance to become an isekai technology-bringing, skill-busted, harem-attracting Min-Maxer of a main character.

However, things have long since changed during the years between chuunibyou me and current me. The current me has a far better grasp of interactions and situations then chuunibyou me could have ever hoped. Look out world, Hikigaya 2.0 is here!

Just as tsunderes and romcoms don't exist in real life, in another world no such thing as a broken Skill or a harem could ever exist, lest this be a dreaded light novel series where standards can be broken at whim to create overpowered, easily self-insertable main characters. Creating a main character that is unique or special in some way other characters aren't is simply an effort on Author-san's part to give his main character–in other words, an almighty, more perfect projection of his own self-image– relevance in the plot.

Even if I was from another world, that didn't suddenly mean I would be blessed by the gods simply for existing. That doesn't realistically happen. If it did, then people like Zaimokuza wouldn't even need to go to a university and study literature just to be an author–they could open up their own little publishing corner and make shelves of light novels right then and there. Broken skills are something to be found only in the imaginations of chuunibyous and Light Novels.

In reality, standards of all sorts exist in order to have a successful life. Prestige, finances, luck, etc… the main character usually proceeds to break all of these normal notions by striking it lucky in some way through the author who wants to cut through the boring crap about living modestly as a farmer and wage laborer before actually starting adventuring.

And I might've been an isekai'd person, but this was the real world. No deluding myself that I was the protagonist. This wasn't a light novel series. If it was, I'm sure that I probably would've been living in Orario's biggest mansion now with a harem of girls fighting over me and ruling over the city.

This was the real world. No asspulls, no broken abilities, certainly no harems. Besides, who needs a harem, anyways? Sure, people might fantasize about the situation where they were with more than one girl, but in that sort of situation the first thing on your mind would be trying to run away as quickly as possible.

Regardless, this situation was far from ideal. Make it home or die trying. And I could sure as hell be expecting reality to come knocking every time things were starting to look up for me.

In other words, if my high school adventures were to be summed up with the phrase "My Youth Romantic Comedy is Wrong, As I Expected", then I suppose this next chapter in the story of my life would be summed up as "My Otherworldly Adventure is a Disaster, As I Expected".

~~This is a Line Break~~

There's a good reason I don't talk about how my first few months in Orario went. There's a good reason I'm loath to even mention what happened, mainly because it involved begging, stealing, getting beaten up for stealing, living in ramshackle shacks, and in general doing nothing but living hand-to-mouth.

The world really was not kind. A reasonable and safe living? Forget about it; no one would want to employ some random stranger with no credentials. Any interesting projects or innovations? Liable to be stolen, or at best, rejected from any place that could've funded it thanks to the above detail.

I spent the better half of an entire month attempting to reconcile the fact that I was here with no way of getting back home. Did I mention that? Spending most of the time by myself with the clothes on my back, starving, with nothing but my own thoughts.

But I adapted. I had to. It was either accept the current situation, or go insane from denial. I was not at all about the second situation, even if that meant accepting the fact that there were living gods walking the same ground that I walked on daily. Honest-to-goodness gods hailing from the various Earthly pantheons. Greek, Norse, and of course, Japanese mythology. Apparently, 1000 years ago the gods had descended from Heaven because they were bored and looking to have some fun.

Mind-boggling in one sense, yet strangely familiar in another, thanks to the many light novels I had consumed while staying up late at night.

If I ran into my namesake here, this was going to be awkward. Doubly awkward if someone mistook me for my namesake. My namesake better have not been known here, or I'd have to leave this city and never come back, or else end up being called "oh, that archery god's fanatic wannabe who named himself after him". If that happened, I'd never be able to show my face in Orario ever again.

Thankfully, this place, like many isekai settings, was more Eurocentric, so that probably wasn't a problem. To prevent that awkward moment from actually, ever occurring, however, I would go by my family name, which was what I usually did. Nothing new.

Regardless, even if I accepted the fact that I was in another world, that didn't mean that everything would magically suddenly be set to rights. There was, of course, a more material aspect to my problems: I lacked a job, and it was hard to find one.

I could sign up to be an adventurer, but that was an extremely hand-to-mouth way of living that also necessitated me risking my life and limb. A 16-year old high school student who hadn't had a decent meal in days, trying to swing his unwieldy sword at some monsters who could easily tear him apart? Yeah, good luck trying to get me to sign up for that.

Therefore, it was only expected that I would end up homeless.

~~This is a Line Break~~

"..." I stared at the stale piece of bread in my hand. Sniffed it. It smelled okay, so I popped it into my mouth. Chewed. Swallowed. Tried very hard not to remember the taste. Failed. At least I didn't gag like last time, because that would be wasting food.

Did I mention that it was raining? It was also Sunday, so most businesses were closed and I had limited meal options. It was also cold. Very cold. My clothing from my previous world had been reduced to nothing but a torn rag that covered my body. I had no shoes to begin with, and wandering the streets with my bare feet was prone to injuries I would be unable to treat, which meant that I walked around in improvised sandals that were hardly better than just cloth wrappings around my feet.

I sat on my haunches and stared at the building across the street. Hmmm. I might've looked like Gollum there for a second. I adjusted my crouch so it looked better and I was more comfortable.

The light was on and the alley was open, but that didn't necessarily mean that they were willing to provide food to people like me. Eh, it wouldn't hurt to check out if they were willing.

Crossing the street and easily weaving through the few people walking in the rain, I made my way into the alley and immediately, my nose was assaulted by the scent of spices wafting out from the doorway which made my mouth water.

"Are you hungry?" A soft voice broke my train of thought. My gaze drifted to the doorway, from which a girl of about my age peered out. With distinctly platinum-blue hair and a dress of bright green, it was hard not to miss her. "Would you like some food?"

I gave a nod and the girl disappeared into the kitchen. Food tasted the best when you didn't have to work for it. Well, it wasn't like I had eaten an actual, full meal in weeks, so I'd take any food, even if I did have to work for it.

The girl returned with a bowl of stew, which I began slowly eating and taking my time with. Yes, this might've been an "offer bread to the starving beggar" moment, but if I ate too quickly, I'd end up with an upset stomach. Therefore, I savored every bite slowly. The girl's eyes twinkled as she watched me eat, and I couldn't help but feel more than a little disconcerted as she observed me eating. There was a mix of amusement and glee in her eyes.

"What's your name?"

"Hikigaya." I maintained my neutral expression in response to her smile.

"Well, hello, Hikigaya. I'm Syr Flova. It's nice to meet you." the girl smiled at me in response, but I didn't exactly trust her gaze. It was playful… playful in an all-too reminiscent manner of a certain member of the Yukinoshitas. "Hikigaya, would you like to work here?" Huh, a job offer. Wait a second, a job offer? Did she just offer for me to work here? Did I finally get a job offer? No way, not a legitimate job offer, right?

I nodded, of course, and the girl smiled. "Wait for a second here. I'll be right back."

A couple minutes passed before there was a shout from the kitchen. "I'm not taking in one of your strays, Syr!"

Then, Flova's pleading voice. "But he's a good person, Mama! I promise he is!"

A loud huff. "I swear, one day you're going to end up taking in a mass murderer or something while telling me they're a "good person". I get the final say here. I'll take a look before doing anything."

There was a long silence before a gruff voice spoke from next to me. "So, you're the kid Syr wants to bring in." I jumped. That was fast… fast and quiet. I hadn't even heard her move.

Swallowing my surprise, I looked to the side… and then up. A tall woman occupied the doorframe, glaring down into my eyes. Having no real options, I looked right back up.

The woman snorted. "You've got some guts. Either that, or you're the biggest fool I've ever seen."

I thought about a reply, but wisely chose to hold it back. If what Flova had said was correct, this "Mama" was to be my future employer.

"Name's Mia. Most of the girls at the pub call me 'Mama', though I 'spect you'd just call me Mia." Mia blew out a sigh. I heard her mutter to herself, "Honestly, that girl…" And then she snapped towards me. "Since I don't have a clue of what you can do, you're going to be the kitchen's assistant for now. Your starting wage will be…" She put her hand to her chin. I sensed an evil glint in her eyes. "50 Valis an hour." I did the math in my head. That amounted to 300 Valis a day. In comparison to Orario's living standards, however, that wasn't even half of what was needed to rent a room, unless it was in the slums–far, far away from my current location. Discounting rent, there were also living costs.

"Counterproposal." I decided to counterattack. It was risky, but it was worth a shot, since Mia had already given ground by admitting me as a worker, no matter how crappy the pay was. "I work here, and instead of pay you give me full bed and board."

"Hm…" Mia put her hand to her chin. "That'd be a loss for me, since I have to put in the effort to cook and clean. I give you a small room, you figure out how to deal with your food situation."

Ha! You gave ground! That scary tough barkeeper isn't fooling me! I'll have you know that when I'm given an inch, I'll gladly take a mile! Or whatever I get, in this case. "I get a small room, which I clean by myself, and I cook 1 of the three meals I eat every day."

"..." Mia thought about it. Heh, don't look like that. I know you'll accept the deal, and you're just looking tough to try and make me reconsider. There was a long silence as Mia glowered at me before she nodded. "Deal."

We shook.

~~This is a Line Break~~

"... No." I narrowed my eyes at Flova.

"Come on, Hikigaya-san, this is the Hostess's uniform." Flova, with that smile still on her face, offered the bright green bundle of clothes that I knew was a dress, coupled with a frilly headband on top. The Hostess was an all-female establishment, which meant that they didn't have a male version of the uniform. Wow, I feel so much more like a LN protagonist already, especially since now I have to wear a dress. Yay. "You can't go out representing our fine establishment without wearing the Hostess's uniform."

Next to her, a couple of the other girls smirked or giggled. Are you all so perverted as to be attempting to coerce a healthy young man into crossdressing to satisfy your own fetishes? Lewd creatures, the lot of you! The only young man who could look good in a dress would be Totsuka–wait, no! Don't corrupt my guardian of all that is pure and holy with those thoughts! Begone! Begone, I say!

I coughed, breaking my horribly wrong–and yet, somehow right–train of thought to mount a counterattack. "I'm not representing the Hostess, Flova. That's for you and the other waitresses. I'm a lowly kitchen assistant, remember?" I leveled a finger at one of the catgirls, who was dressed in a beret and a chef's uniform. "She's not wearing a uniform, either. Therefore, your logic fails to apply to me."

"He's right, Syr. And the rest of you, back to work!" Flova frowned as Mia stepped in, ordering the rest of the staff getting back to work setting up the tavern. Ha! The great Hikigaya wins again! Bow before me, lowly mortals!

My thoughts of triumph were cut short by Mia. "Don't get cocky, Hikigaya. Here, take this." There was a clatter as she laid a paring knife on the table. "Get to work peeling those vegetables." Obediently, I picked up the knife and went to work.

Take, peel, set. Take, peel, set. Pretty soon, I had myself a rhythm, and I began thinking about my situation. Being in the kitchen is menial work, so even if it's simply busy work, I won't have to interact with others. Second off, I know enough about cooking from my experiences that I can easily wash dishes or whatever, which is probably my next task. I'll also be able to get time to think, which means I can plan out the next step in this situation.

So, I'm now on track to getting back on my feet. I could still work off my living somewhat comfortably, and I had a roof to live under that wasn't a wooden panel over my head or someone's porch. I had food or access to food, not something I had taken or begged for that was already going bad.

Now that I had a job with stable footing, I could begin considering my options and my way to getting home. Since this was the real world, it would be fair to conclude that any technology from here–yeah, not even the all-powerful asspull called magic–could possibly bring me back home. The chances of that were one in a million and entirely dependent on luck.

There was, of course, the whole "reaching the bottom of the Dungeon will grant you your unfulfilled desire, no matter how stupid it was, because the gods said so, for it possesses something down there beyond the grasp of even the omniscient gods", but that could be a red herring, since there was always the possibility of there being nothing and then the gods going "Oh, the real treasure was the friends you made along the way!"–which would be completely pointless to me. I didn't need friends here. I needed a way home.

Regardless of how I would eventually return home, I doubted that such a thing would happen if I was content to stay an ordinary background character and work out my time in the Hostess. It's not like I could wait for a main character to swing by either. Real life and all that. It would've been easier if it were a light novel, really.

But by all means, let's assume that the Dungeon had what I needed. Even if it didn't, it still made sense that I needed to become one of Orario's finest if I wanted to be in the party carrying whichever magical Macguffin would lead me home.

The first course of action along this plan would be to register as an adventurer, then sign up to be the vassal of one of the many gods populating this world. Apparently, when the gods had descended they had created the real-life equivalent of a fantasy RPG system which involved stats, skills, magic, and actually levelling up. To fall under said system, one needed to forge a contract with such a god. It was still possible, however, for me to squeak by without joining a familia.

But if push came to shove and I needed to join a familia, it would probably be better to find a Familia that lacked attachments, or otherwise encouraged independence or working by oneself. It was better to do so anyways. The smaller the group, the less room for mistakes, misinformation, and misinterpretation. Do things by yourself and you'll guarantee little to no mistakes at all, since you know yourself the best and you know your own limitations.

In the end, it was a question of trust. Whether you trusted someone to do something or not. And the less people you trusted, the less room there was for error. But if one were to trust only themselves… they'd end up like Yukinoshita.

Yukinoshita. I frowned as my knife slipped. That name dredged up memories I did not want to remember. Komachi, Yukinoshita, Yuigahama, Hiratsuka-sensei, Totsuka, even that tubby chuuni Zaimokuza… I missed them. Of course it hurt; I could not deny that everything was fine and I had instantly adapted to being separated in a completely different world against my will and having absolutely no way how to get back or–

I shook my head to clear myself of those thoughts. The less I thought about anything, anything related to home, the better. I didn't need to be reminded of the rawness of the injury daily. Better to just pay no mind to it; if I did, it would at least be less painful.

"Munya, you're pretty good, nya." I look up from my work as I notice a brown-haired catgirl peering down at me. "I'm jealous, nya. Those peels are so much thinner than anything I've ever done, nya." She smiles as she stares at me. "Oh, sorry, forgot to introduce myself, nya. I'm Anya, nya. What's your name, nya?" Two thoughts instantly ran through my head as I paused in my peeling and looked up at the girl. The first one was that while I thought menial work would be enough for the other pub employees to not bother associating with me, it appeared that I was very wrong. The second, more importantly, was this: what the hell is this girl's problem? Ending every sentence with 'nya' doesn't make you automatically cute, you know? In fact, that verbal tick is kind of disturbing. No human talks like that.

Well, she was an actual catgirl, so I suppose that it made sense for them to be different from humans in some sort of way. Animal people with different ears and tails were also a thing in this world, but that was easier to stomach than I had thought. Light novels had trained me well.

"It's Hikigaya," I replied.

"Hikinya?" Here we go with the weird nicknames again… First it was Hikki, then it was Hikitani, and now Hikinya, huh? I sighed in my head as I resigned myself to this new nickname.

"Yes, I suppose you could call me that." I swallowed a sigh, finished my work, and swept the freshly peeled potatoes into a bowl before passing them to the chef uniformed girl next to Mia. She took them with a nervous nod before moving back towards the stove.

"I'm finished. What's next, Mia?" I asked Mia as she passed by me. She gave a small nod of approval. "You're actually a pretty decent worker, Hikigaya. Unlike some people I could mention." Following that statement, she seemed to exude a terrifying, demonic aura along with a chilling glare that seemed to be directed at… the catgirl behind me, Anya, who let out a small yowl like a cat. The gaze swept around the small room, being directed at Flova and then the chef girl, who gave a titter and a shudder, respectively. "Anyways, we're running low on supplies, so make a trip to the shops. Syr will run you through on how to do it."

For all her threats, death glares, and grumbling, Mia was an excellent employer, and the coworkers were all kind to each other–wild crossdressing antics aside, of course. The living quarters and food were definitely something that was much better than whatever I lived in during my first months here. In return, I worked hard; not only to escape the wrath of Mia combined with her iron fist, but also to prevent social interaction. What's the point of interacting with others and forming bonds with them if I was going to leave one day anyways? None. At best, those relationships could be used to perhaps land me some favors, but nothing else.

So, I would work alone.

But when had that ever been new?

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