It was a warm day of May when the truck hit us.
People say time slows down when you are about to die. Life flashes in reverse before your eyes.
All I remember from that day is the smell of my best friend's armpit.
It smelled very sour.
"Hey, Desmond!"
I sighed. Here we go again.
"Is it true that the Hero once beat a Demon General and his whole army by himself, while reading a nighttime story to a baby?''
Every day lately has been the same. Question after question. Myth after myth.
Like some sort of holy archive of useless trivia, about a guy who peaked straight into godhood.
Why do they worship him so much?
Don't they realize how many of their problems can be traced directly to him?
This is the power of propaganda, I guess.
Ever since the dockworkers learned that I was once a member of the Hero Party, they have been inundating me with questions.
Big scarred men with broken hands and bent backs, giggling like schoolgirls who just found out the quiet kid in the back is the little brother of a pop idol.
They don't care about me.
They just want dirt. Secrets. Measurements.
"Pssst… Desmond."
I turned. Jakka.
Mid-forties. Father of four. Twenty years hauling grain. Still strong enough to carry five sacks at once. Married his childhood sweetheart.
Works himself to the bone without complaining, for their sake.
One of the few people I genuinely respect in this wretched world.
"Is it true," he whispered, dead serious, "that the Hero's dong is so big, you could confuse it with the Great Dragon's tail?"
…And that's how respect dies.
I stared at him.
Slowly.
Painfully.
"That's enough! Stop bothering him, and go back to work, guys!"
A large man shouted from the upper deck. Thick gray beard, bald head, a scar cutting across the left side of his face. One eye gone- taken by a sword in wars old enough that nobody bothers naming them anymore.
This part of town attracts veterans like rust attracts iron.
Now he is known as Bara. He oversees the work, but he's never shy about breaking his back alongside the rest of us.
If I had to point to a real leader, it'd be him.
Now that I lost faith in Jakka, I think Bara is the only one I can look up to.
"You can bombard him with questions when you go back to your barracks!" he declared with a big grin on his face.
Motion denied.
"Y-You have a hard time, huh?"
I turned.
A sack of grain next to me was wobbling.
For a moment, I thought the docks were haunted.
Until I noticed two legs under it.
"The boss is gonna get angry at you again if he sees you like this," I answer deadpan.
"It's f-fine… This is nothing."
Leyla is one of the few women working the docks. Most are kept in the kitchens. Leyla is different.
She's a total mystery. Rumors say she's a former slave who fled a neighboring kingdom. Others think she's failed nobility.
No one knows the truth- and no one tries to pry. Around here, everyone has a past they'd rather keep buried.
Respect in these parts is earned through sweat. Leyla earned hers long ago.
The men would rather see her cooking or cleaning, but she doesn't feel respected unless she's hauling the same weight they are.
At noon, the bell is ringing, calling the workers to lunch.
The food is what you would expect from those parts.
Bland stew and baked potatoes.
I used to listen to the Hero complain about seasoning in gourmet food, now I question myself if I can even afford salt.
At least Leyla doesn't complain about food. She devours those potatoes as if it's her last meal. Really makes you wonder what sort of life she lived.
When I see her like that, I get hungry too.
"Did you hear?" the guys murmur around the table.
"The cost of healing magic will increase by a quarter starting next month."
"Those damn nobles just can't get enough of our money!" answered someone, hitting the table with his fist in anger.
It's not the nobles… Well, they are trash too. This was caused by the Hero -and Hero alone.
But it's pointless to try to explain. They are fully devoted to the Hero. Not doing so would just make their already hard lives even more difficult. Comfort is cheaper than truth.
When we were in the human world, he used to call himself a hardcore gamer with impunity. I'm sure he believed it in his heart, but I never accepted it. My concept of being a hardcore gamer was grinding. His, was paying for the results.
His family had more money than they could spend in ten lives, so that was never a problem.
One time, we started a new popular MMO. He spent so much money in the game, day one, that the CEO sent him a handwritten letter to thank him for the support.
And he brought that very culture to this world, too.
Two skills and a title gave him control over how magic worked - and he rewrote the rules into a microtransaction system.
That day, while sitting in front of the Goddess, the only thing he could think of was how to get ahead.
"You goha ea'd dat?" asks Leyla, pointing to a potato. She looks like a greedy squirrel with her mouth full.
"Help yoursel-" I say while pushing the plate towards her.
"D'anks!"
She didn't wait for me to finish before shoving the potato in her mouth.
"You really love potatoes, uh?"
"Uhm…" she answers. She then hurries to swallow. "My dream is to have my own potato farm one day-" she continues as she gets ready to gulp a glass of water.
This must be the first time she ever told me something about herself.
"Having a dream is a nice thing…" I say, while looking at her warm expression.
"Do you have a dream then?"
"None, I'm afraid, I just go on with the motion."
I've been in this world for 7 years, but it still feels foreign to me. As a result, I couldn't find either a home or a purpose in it.
"Then, you can come with me to my farm. I've been saving up for it. One more decade or so should be enough."
I just laughed awkwardly, not sure how to answer. Such a humble dream from such a simple girl. But, growing potatoes with a beauty like her for the rest of my life doesn't sound that bad… It's more than nothing.
"I may take you on that when the time comes, then."
She gives a thumbs-up while continuing to eat.
—----------------------------
That night, I didn't go to the barracks right away. I don't want to be interrogated again. I'll wait until everyone goes to sleep before going. It's a little cold, but it's a nice night. The two moons in the sky are full, enveloping the dockyard in brightness.
It's good to take a breather from time to time. I don't get much alone time these days.
I wave my hand in the air and activate the status window.
STATUS -459% Faith
________________________________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________________________________
Name: Desmond Steel
Class: Support
HP: 3000/3000
MP: SUSPENDED
Level: 99
Titles: Outstanding Support, Best Friend of Chosen One, The Other Summoned Guy
Petty Lord
_______________________________________________________________________________________________
Skills: Extended Inventory lvl99 - Rank S - Blessed Skill Penalty
(Activation cost - 1000 000 043 Gold)
Bird Eye View Map lvl99 - Rank A - Blessed Skill Penalty
(Activation cost - 15689 Gold)
Remote Communication lvl99 - Rank B - Penalty
(Activation cost - 3999 Gold)
Basic Crafting lvl99 - Rank B - Penalty
(Activation cost - 6983 Gold)
– –Expand – –
Bonus: Extra Luck Penalty
Planification Penalty
Math Penalty
Persuasion Penalty
_________________________________________________________________________________________________
"Damn!" I exclaim in surprise.
It went down by 120% since all this interrogation went on.
"Forget a potato farm… with the money it would cost me to open my inventory once, Leyla could grow potatoes on half of the continent." I laughed bitterly.