The universe had finally stopped trying to kill me.
I knew this because I was currently sitting in a comfortable hotel chair, drinking tea, and enjoying a complete lack of mortal peril.
No assassins.
No curses.
No possessed maids.
No giant murder-puppies.
No horrifying death loops.
Just peace.
Civilization.
Furniture.
I took another sip.
Life was good.
"Subaru."
Life immediately became less good.
I looked up.
Emilia stood in the doorway with her arms folded.
Which was concerning.
Not because Emilia was intimidating.
But because whenever Emilia folded her arms, it meant she was about to be reasonable.
Reasonable people were dangerous.
"Yes?"
She hesitated.
"About tomorrow..."
Here it comes.
"I think you should stay here."
I lowered my teacup.
"...Continue."
"You only got your leg healed today."
"Correct."
"You nearly died last week."
"Also correct."
"You collapsed twice yesterday."
I pointed toward her.
"Allegedly."
"It happened."
"There is conflicting evidence."
"There isn't."
"There is in my heart."
Emilia pinched the bridge of her nose.
Across the room, Rem looked like she agreed with Emilia.
Traitory.
Pure, devastating betrayal.
"Subaru," Emilia said patiently, "The Royal Selection isn't going anywhere."
"The Royal Selection is literally the most important political event in the kingdom."
"You know what I mean."
I leaned back in my chair.
Slowly.
Dramatically.
The way wise prophets did when preparing to deliver wisdom.
"A strategist does not abandon his king before the final boss room."
Silence.
Emilia blinked.
Rem blinked.
Ram visibly regretted existing.
Even Roswaal glanced up from the black book resting in his lap.
The Gospel.
The cover was hidden beneath one gloved hand, but I knew exactly what it was.
I'd seen him carrying that thing too many times.
Roswaal noticed me looking.
For a brief moment our eyes met.
Then he casually shifted the book and angled it away.
Like a man pretending he wasn't reading forbidden future spoilers.
Oh, we're both doing this now?
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Emilia opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
"...I'm not a king."
"The metaphor remains valid."
Rem sighed.
"It is unfortunately valid."
"Thank you, Rem."
"I dislike that I agree."
I stood.
My leg supported me perfectly.
No pain.
No limp.
Every step still felt slightly miraculous.
"Besides," I continued, "staying behind would be strategically irresponsible."
Emilia tilted her head.
"What do you mean?"
I grinned.
The grin of a man who had spent years consuming fictional media instead of touching grass.
"It is time for a briefing."
Roswaal's fingers tightened slightly around the Gospel.
Then, almost casually, he closed it.
Not quickly.
Not suspiciously.
Just a smooth motion that would have looked natural to anyone who wasn't actively watching him.
Caught you.
I gestured toward the table.
"Everyone sit down."
Ram stared.
"No."
"You are participating."
"No."
"Your attendance is mandatory."
Ram sighed.
The sigh of a woman who had already accepted that this conversation would somehow become her problem.
Five minutes later, everyone was seated.
I stood at the front of the room.
Hands clasped behind my back.
Like a professor preparing to explain why the final exam would be emotionally devastating.
"Welcome to today's prophetic briefing."
Emilia raised her hand.
"Do we have to call it that?"
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
"Subaru."
"Yes."
She stared.
I stared back.
Eventually Emilia gave up.
Victory.
The strongest force in nature.
I cleared my throat.
"Candidate Number One. Priscilla Barielle."
Roswaal's eyes narrowed.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
The kind of reaction someone had when they were comparing what they were hearing against information they already possessed.
Checking the script, are we?
I filed that away.
"Priscilla possesses a unique ability."
Emilia immediately looked concerned.
"A Divine Protection?"
"Worse."
I pointed dramatically.
"She has the favor of the world."
Silence.
"What does that mean?" Emilia asked.
"It means reality likes her."
"...Reality?"
"Reality."
Rem frowned.
"That's not a real explanation."
"It is the most accurate explanation available."
I began pacing.
"Imagine a person so absurdly lucky that probability itself develops favoritism."
"That's impossible."
"Correct."
"And yet."
The room fell silent.
Because unfortunately I sounded completely serious.
Which I was.
"Do not argue with her."
"Why?"
"Because you'll lose."
"Even if I'm right?"
"Especially if you're right."
Emilia looked horrified.
"What kind of person is she?"
"A woman who could trip down a staircase and somehow become queen."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"That doesn't sound possible."
"Neither does she."
I turned toward the next entry.
"Candidate Number Two. Anastasia Hoshin."
Roswaal visibly became interested.
Naturally.
Money was involved.
"Anastasia is what happens when capitalism gains sentience."
The room stared.
I continued.
"Everything is a transaction."
"Everything?"
"Everything."
"Surely not everything."
I pointed at Emilia.
"If you say hello, she'll calculate market value."
"What?"
"If you compliment her dress, she'll identify three new revenue streams."
Rem blinked.
"That's absurd."
"Rem."
"Yes?"
"I am understating the problem."
A brief silence followed.
Then I sighed.
"Do not underestimate her."
The joking tone vanished.
Immediately.
"She's probably the most dangerous person in the room."
That got everyone's attention.
Even Ram looked up.
Because unlike Priscilla's chaos...
Anastasia was smart.
Very smart.
The dangerous kind of smart.
The kind that smiled while quietly taking over the board.
I moved on.
"Candidate Number Three. Crusch Karsten."
This one was easy.
"Imagine a military commander."
Emilia nodded.
"Okay."
"Now imagine one who actually deserves the position."
"Oh."
"Exactly."
I folded my arms.
"Do not lie to her."
"I don't lie."
"Good."
"Usually."
"Better."
Emilia looked confused.
"That's all?"
"That's all."
Rem frowned.
"She sounds straightforward."
"She is."
"That seems refreshing."
"It is."
I pointed at her.
"Which is exactly why bluffing her is suicidal."
The room grew quiet.
Emilia looked thoughtful.
Actually thoughtful.
Not confused.
Not overwhelmed.
Prepared.
For the first time since arriving in the Capital...
Prepared.
And suddenly I felt strangely satisfied.
Because this was what I was good at.
Not fighting.
Not politics.
Not heroics.
Information.
Preparation.
Knowing where the landmines were buried.
And making sure the people I cared about didn't step on them.
Across the room, Roswaal's gaze drifted toward the Gospel again.
Just for a second.
Then back to me.
Comparing.
Measuring.
Trying to figure out where my information was coming from.
Good luck with that.
[ ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ]
[─── ❖ ───Natsuki Subaru─── ❖ ───]
[ ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ]
{(NOTE ULTRA IMPORTANT: THIS IS A FLASHBACK})
I blinked.
One moment, I was stepping out of a convenience store.
The next—
I stopped.
For a moment, I just stood there.
Because I was thinking.
No way.
The automatic doors behind me were gone.
The parking lot was gone.
The streetlights were gone.
Instead, a busy city stretched out before me.
Stone roads.
Wooden buildings.
People in unfamiliar clothes.
A wagon rolled across cobblestones.
Somewhere in the distance, merchants shouted.
My heart began beating faster.
No way.
I turned in a slow circle.
Everything looked real.
Too real.
The cool air against my skin.
The smell of food drifting from nearby stalls.
The noise of hundreds of conversations blending together.
None of it felt like a dream.
None of it felt like a game.
It felt...
Real.
A laugh escaped my mouth.
Then another.
Then another.
Soon I was laughing so hard I nearly doubled over.
"No way."
I looked up at the sky.
Blue.
Clear.
Endless.
"No freaking way."
My hands clenched.
"This actually happened."
Nobody answered.
Naturally.
The universe rarely provided dramatic confirmation.
I didn't need it.
I already knew.
I had been summoned.
Transported.
Isekai'd.
Whatever term people wanted to use.
The result was the same.
I was here.
Actually here.
My pulse raced.
Questions exploded through my head.
Magic?
Skills?
Guilds?
Adventurers?
Demons?
Status windows?
Was there a status window?
There had to be a status window.
Every fantasy world had status windows.
"Status."
Nothing happened.
I frowned.
"Open Status."
Nothing.
"Menu."
Nothing.
"Inventory."
Nothing.
"...Skill Tree?"
Nothing.
A small amount of disappointment appeared.
Not enough to matter.
The day was still young.
There was plenty of time for game mechanics.
Maybe this was one of those immersive settings where the interface only appeared after the tutorial.
Or after meeting the heroine.
Or after nearly dying.
Actually, hopefully not that last one.
I glanced down at myself.
Then froze.
"...Wait."
I looked down again.
Then grabbed the front of my shirt.
This wasn't my tracksuit.
My beloved black-and-orange tracksuit was gone.
Instead, I was wearing clothes that looked strangely modern.
A dark hoodie.
A fitted shirt underneath.
Slim black pants.
Clean sneakers.
Not fantasy clothes.
Not medieval clothes.
Just... newer.
Like something from a fashion catalog a few years ahead of what I'd normally see.
I stared.
Then looked at my sleeves.
Then my pants.
Then my shoes.
Where's my tracksuit?
That was supposed to be part of the package.
Every fantasy protagonist got summoned in their normal clothes.
That was practically a law.
I checked myself again.
No tracksuit.
No convenience store bag.
No phone.
Nothing from home.
A strange feeling settled in my stomach.
Not fear.
Not yet.
Just confusion.
I even rolled up a sleeve and checked my arm.
Nothing.
No hidden runes.
No cheat-code tattoo.
No ancient dragon contract etched into my skin.
Just skin.
"...That's a little concerning."
I flexed my fingers.
The movement felt oddly unfamiliar.
Not wrong.
Just... off.
Like I was wearing someone else's gloves.
When I took a deep breath, my chest felt tighter than I expected.
Weaker.
My body responded a fraction of a second slower than my brain anticipated.
I frowned.
Maybe it was nerves.
Or maybe being magically summoned came with jet lag.
Either way, I finally started walking.
Immediately stopping again.
The city spread out before me.
Massive stone roads.
People everywhere.
Merchants.
Knights.
Demi-humans.
Actual honest-to-God fantasy races.
A kid with dog ears ran past me.
My brain nearly shut down.
DOG EARS.
ACTUAL DOG EARS.
This was amazing.
This was incredible.
This was—
My stomach growled.
Loudly.
I froze.
"...Right."
Food.
That was a thing.
Unfortunately.
I checked my pockets.
No wallet.
No phone.
No snacks.
No emergency rice ball.
Just a few coins.
Not many.
Definitely not enough.
I stared at them.
Then at the city.
Then back at the coins.
Okay.
Minor issue.
Nothing serious.
Fantasy protagonists survived this kind of thing all the time.
All I needed to do was find the plot.
The plot always solved everything.
A princess.
An elf.
A quest.
A mysterious old man.
A suspiciously helpful merchant.
Something.
I started walking.
Confidence fully restored.
The world clearly had plans for me.
After all...
People didn't get summoned to fantasy worlds just to die in a random alley.
Right?
[ ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ]
Three hours later, I discovered that the world had absolutely no problem with that idea.
"Hand over the coins."
Three men blocked the alley.
One carried a knife.
One carried a club.
The third just looked mean.
I stared.
They stared.
A strange silence followed.
Because this wasn't how these encounters usually went.
Normally this was where the protagonist said something cool.
Then unlocked a power.
Then won.
Instead...
My legs felt weak.
The knife looked very real.
The man holding it looked very real.
Everything suddenly felt very real.
"Look."
I raised my hands.
Trying to smile.
"I think there's been a misunderstanding."
"There hasn't."
The knife moved.
Fast.
Far faster than I expected.
A burning sensation exploded beneath my ribs.
For a moment...
I didn't understand.
The thug looked surprised.
I looked surprised.
Then I looked down.
Blood.
My blood.
Dripping onto the stones.
The world tilted.
Pain arrived.
Not anime pain.
Not movie pain.
Not game pain.
Real pain.
Agonizing.
Overwhelming.
Absolute.
The knife pulled free.
I collapsed immediately.
Screaming.
"..Ah!"
The sound barely sounded human.
The three men ran.
I couldn't even blame them.
I would have run too.
The alley spun around me.
My vision blurred.
The sky grew darker.
This isn't supposed to happen.
The thought repeated over and over.
This isn't supposed to happen.
My hands shook.
Blood soaked my clothes.
Breathing hurt.
Everything hurt.
For many minutes blood kept spilling from me.
Hot.
Metallic.
I tried to crawl.
I tried to shout for help, but no words came out.
I wanted my room.
I wanted my bed.
I wanted my parents.
I wanted—
Darkness swallowed everything.
[ ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ]
I couldn't breathe.
My eyes snapped open.
My hands flew to my stomach.
The wound.
The knife.
The blood—
My fingers clawed at cheap fabric.
Dry.
Intact.
No hole.
No blood.
No torn flesh.
I sucked in a ragged breath.
Then another.
Then another.
My heart hammered against my ribs.
The smell hit me next.
Sweet fruit.
Fresh bread.
Warm sunlight.
But underneath it—
I could still smell iron.
Still smell blood.
Still smell the damp stone of that alley.
For one impossible moment, both realities existed at once.
The memory of dying and the certainty that I was alive.
I blinked.
I was standing in front of a fruit stand.
The bustling city stretched around me.
People walked past without a care.
The sky was bright.
The air was cool.
And there wasn't a knife in my stomach.
I stared at my hands.
Then at my clothes.
I froze.
"...What?"
These weren't the blood-soaked clothes I'd died in.
They weren't my tracksuit either.
The same unfamiliar outfit from earlier.
The same dark hoodie.
The same fitted shirt.
The same black pants.
The same sneakers.
Like nothing had happened.
Like I'd never been stabbed at all.
A chill ran down my spine.
I looked back at my hands.
No blood.
No wound.
Nothing.
My breathing refused to slow down.
For a long moment, I simply stood there.
Frozen.
"...Huh?"