episode_0001

Clank.

The sound of the helmet’s latch coming off, metal against metal.

I roughly stuck the blood and oil-soaked longsword into the ground, lifted my helmet slightly to reveal my nose and mouth, and let out a shallow breath.

“Hoo….”

Flushed cheeks with heat. Beads of sweat, poured out in full, mixed with the bloodstains on the breastplate and trickled down.

I didn’t have the heart to wipe it off. It would just turn red again in no time if I did.

More than that, water, water was what I needed first. After all the running around in armor, the heat had built up enough to make a boiling pot jealous.

“Haah….”

I brought the water pouch at my waist to my lips and gulped, settling the feverish body temperature.

The water inside the pouch was lukewarm at best, so it wasn’t much help… but still, it was better than nothing. A hundred times better.

“Hoo… this, really isn’t easy….”

The party members, exhausted, slumped onto the rocky ground, letting out deep sighs.

“Those damn orc-like quest board bastards. What? They’re probably just about ten goblins at most? Where do they get ten?”

“They’ve always been like that. Haven’t seen them handle a job properly.”

A middle-aged man in chainmail checked his dented shield, cursing, while the rugged-looking archer next to him shrugged, trying to placate the man.

“Says he’s learned to write, yet he’s stuck in the quest board office all day rummaging through documents. Those guys, gather them all up and lock them in the dungeon for a week! Then they’ll know how tough adventurers have it, while they sit comfortably with their bellies full…”

The middle-aged warrior continued grumbling, his anger unabated.

He kept blaming the quest board staff for their negligence towards the adventurers’ dangers.

It was a justified anger, but not one I particularly sympathized with.

The fact that the quest board staff disregarded adventurers’ lives was a clear truth, but it was a story limited to low-level lackeys who could be replaced at any time, such as shield or spear-grade rookies.

Those guys are as pitiful as a thug with a drawn sword, spewing insults. From the guild’s perspective, they couldn’t care less whether they live or die.

On the other hand, adventurers who have built up enough achievements and risen to higher ranks were sure to receive ample attention and consideration from the guild.

In short, the middle-aged warrior who was rampaging through the guild, hurling curses at the staff, was simply at the level of a mere iron-tier despite his age.

There’s no point in sympathizing with the rage of those who have serious flaws in their abilities or character, flaws so severe that they can’t be promoted to a higher rank.

After all, once this mission is over, we’ll part ways anyway.

“Oh my. Calm down, Hans. It was quite a hassle, but we managed to catch them all, didn’t we?”

Despite the archer’s seemingly easygoing demeanor, he seemed patient or maybe just good-natured, as he continued to soothe the irritable middle-aged man, who kept grumbling in front of him.

You can’t judge a person by appearances alone.

He might seem like the type who takes pleasure in snatching someone else’s lover and boasting about it, but surprisingly, he might be sociable and diligent.

Judging by the way the middle-aged man, Hans, is being addressed, they might have known each other quite well from the start.

Once inside the dungeon, the only people you can trust are your fellow party members, so it’s not uncommon for people of the same rank to get along well.

“Good things are good, right? Looks like the loot is quite decent. Cheer up.”

“Well… that’s true. Yeah, I guess I got too excited.”

Whether it was the encouragement from the archer that calmed down the anger that had boiled like a pot, the middle-aged man soon nodded, his contorted expression relaxing into a smile.

In truth, contrary to the archer’s statement, the loot obtained from this mission was honestly not much. Despite what the guild staff had said about there being only about ten goblins at most, close to forty had appeared, and to top it off, there was even one larger, superior breed of goblin, nearly four times the size of the others.

Goblins are ultimately goblins. The loot was nothing more than rusty, worthless pieces of metal. If there had been people held captive by them, one could have rescued them and perhaps received a reward. However, after thoroughly ransacking their lair, all that came out were flesh-stripped skulls.

So, Hans wasn’t relieved by the thought of loot, but rather satisfied with the smooth-talking behavior of the archer standing beside him.

*Crunch*

Ah, I’ve drunk it all. I sighed lightly as I looked at the empty water pouch with regretful eyes.

“Haah….”

Now that we only have to return, we probably don’t really need water, but… honestly, my throat is still a bit dry.

“Hilde, did your water run out by any chance?”

The last party member, who glanced at me while speaking, approached casually. He was dressed like a country bumpkin, carrying an axe fit for a lumberjack. His name was probably John?

From the first meeting in the morning, he had subtly given off the vibe of a countryside bumpkin who had stumbled into the city without a plan, falling for the drunken adventurers’ nonsensical love stories.

“How about I give you some of mine?”

John smiled at me, offering his water pouch. It was a burdensome kindness, clearly showing the desire underlying it.

This is why I can’t take off my helmet in front of others. Even though half of my face was covered, these kinds of people would pop up for every request, so if I revealed my whole face, there would be ten times more of these awkward folks following me around.

“No, it’s okay.”

I shook my head, refusing his kindness, and tied the empty water pouch back to my waist. My throat was dry, but I had no intention of drinking water from a guy I’d just met today.

Who knows, he might have tainted it with something unpleasant. Even though he was nothing more than a country bumpkin, it wouldn’t hurt to be cautious.

Even in my hometown, boasting a security level on a different dimension, it would have been a big problem to casually accept a drink from someone else.

What would it be like to suddenly find oneself in a world from an adult-rated novel, let alone on Earth?

One could easily become a mother of three in the blink of an eye if one let down their guard. And not just any children, but ones with different fathers. So, I had to be cautious, very cautious.

After all, didn’t I flee to this place to avoid some impending tragedy? The tragedy of the heroine of a fugitive’s dwelling.

◆◆

Do you know what “fugitive’s dwelling” means? It’s a term for a novel genre that was all the rage in my hometown. Novels that utilized extreme emotional states such as regret, depravity, and obsession as seasoning to provide readers with rapid and intense emotional pleasure.

It was a genre with divided opinions, but it undeniably had its popularity. Hundreds, even thousands of similar works flooded the market, establishing what was originally just a writing technique as a genre in its own right.

…Isn’t regret and depravity gloomy and negative emotions, completely opposite to pleasure?

That’s true when the protagonist regrets and becomes depraved. In the fugitive’s dwelling genre, those who regret, become depraved, and obsess over something weren’t the main characters, but rather the supporting characters who were with the main character.

Characters like party members who either ostracize or completely banish the protagonist, or lovers who betray the protagonist and succumb to the temptation of another man. Characters who, after abandoning the protagonist, fall into various forms of suffering, only to meet the now unrecognizably strong protagonist and obsessively try to mend the broken relationship, shedding tears of regret.

However, instead of reconciling, they usually end up meeting a tragic downfall due to their betrayal and regret, resulting in a reversal of roles and karmic retribution.

Betrayal, regret, role reversals, and reciprocal downfall—these were the fundamental elements of the fugitive’s dwelling. It’s a combination of the emotional pleasure derived from those who cling to me as I reveal my “true strength,” and the development of getting revenge on those who disregarded me, as they stick to me like glue.

As preferences sharply divide, those who favor such emotions read them in abundance, while those who dislike them despise the genre immensely.

—

I hope this meets your requirements!

‘If I were to commit suicide, would others regret it?’ and ‘I want to take revenge on the bullies who torment me’ – a combination of extreme loner genre that is criticized to the point. How was I?

To be honest, I quite liked it. When written well, the themes were surprisingly entertaining.

Betrayal and regret, squalor and revenge – fulfilling all the conditions of a loser’s bible, akin to the Count of Monte Cristo, which rose to legendary status with just one aspect of fun.

Of course, expecting Alexandre Dumas-level skill from loser web novel writers would be a harsh demand.

However, when a genre floods like an inundation, there are bound to be several convincing masterpieces among them.

Reading such works, time seemed to fly by… Yes, I can say that I used to consider myself a fan of the loser genre.

…Not anymore though.