As A Result of Trying To Live An Erotic Slow-Life, I Have Become The Underground Ruler of This Upside-Down Otherworld - Chapter 1: In A World Where I Can’t Even Say What I Want To Say

Chapter 1: In A World Where I Can’t Even Say What I Want To Say

The difference in common sense is a real pain.

I guess I should call myself an otherworlder, but it’s more like that because I have memories of my past life. I remembered my former self when I was raped.

I hit my head hard when I was attacked, and the boy named Arius who had been alive until then died, and my past life’s memories and common sense awakened anew.

What was fortunate, however, was that my rapist was extremely beautiful by my past life’s standards.

With her beautiful red hair and a body that could be said to embody the golden ratio, even while her face displayed a hint of regret, I couldn’t help but feel desire as she mounted me. The distorted expression of pleasure remains unforgettable; I can confidently say it was a splendid experience for my first time. No, it’s not that I’m some kind of masochistic pig or anything.

However, that was the extent of my luck.

For example, my mother, a member of the orc race, was praised as a great beauty, and this beautiful mother, unsatisfied with just my father every night, would go out looking for men.

People accepted it as a tacit understanding, saying, “Well, she’s beautiful, so it can’t be helped.”

Honestly, it felt like I was going crazy.

To me, it looked like a grotesque person could not withstand a drought of men and was wandering around looking for more.

Yet, the men who were attacked or bought willingly offered their bodies—unbelievable.

The icing on the cake was my brother.

My brother was raped by our mother and died atop her. His face looked peaceful.

And my father would say, “If you die after having such a beautiful partner, it’s a man’s wish fulfilled.”

No way, with this, I’d go crazy.

The decisive moment was after I was raped by the beautiful woman I mentioned.

“—Arius’s virginity was supposed to be taken by me.”

The day I heard those words from my mother, I fled from home in a flash.

With the memories and common sense of my past life, it would have been exciting words to me. But I didn’t feel any eroticism in the smile of that pig and my balls shrank in fear.

Though I managed to escape from home, it didn’t mean I could escape the world’s common sense.

As a 12-year-old child, there were dramas along the way to reaching another city.

I had no money or strength. All I had was this body, a half-orc and half-human, called a demon race.

I don’t intend to go into detail about it, nor do I want to.

Even if I wanted to ask someone for directions, I had no money, and what was demanded in return was my body. It was straightforward but I wished it hadn’t come to that.

However, I suppose it can be said that I’m indeed of orc blood; as even as a child, my size wasn’t small, and I produced enough sperm to suggest I was insatiable.

My body responded without regard to mental excitement—an inconvenient yet fortunate body.

If I could have just become impotent, maybe I could have given up, but there was no helping it when something stood.

I soon gave up on many things. I decided to use my body.

Without going through the Adventurers’ Guild, I called out to the adventurers crossing the world, selling my body in exchange for guidance or protection.

Thanks to my debauched lifestyle, I became quite skilled at sex, enough to say it was my weapon. Eventually, I reached a city far from my hometown.

The job I got was as a waiter in a diner in that city.

With looks rated around a 6 or 7 out of 10, I was hired as the poster boy for the restaurant.

I didn’t know how to perceive this over a 5 out of 10 rating, and honestly, I didn’t want to know.

The diner, which was doing quite well, earned even more by hiring me, who radiated a charm I never wanted.

While occasionally dodging or accepting invitations from adventurers, I could lead a life that could be considered normal.

But still, the difference in values was painful.

Even in casual conversations about whether the adventurers who came to the store were beautiful or not, I felt a disconnect.

“—The customer now is stunningly beautiful.”

When a colleague said that and I looked, I often regretted having done so.

Since I was considered the poster boy, I couldn’t avoid serving them.

I mustn’t forget that the other person thought of themselves as beautiful, and had no intention of taking a “no” from me. Rather, some even thought, “You should be happy to be approached by such beauty!”

Around me, there were those who would say, “You lucky bastard!” out of jealousy.

With so many people approaching me, it became a double burden that those I thought were beautiful made me want to pulll away.

The five years since leaving my hometown were days of suffering from the gap between the world and myself.

Thus,

“Yeah, I should just become a hikkikomori.”

One day I realized this.

No matter how I struggled, as long as I lived, I would continue to suffer from this gap.

In that case, I resolved to live as much as possible while avoiding interactions with others, remaining shut away.

“Want to quit…? What are you saying all of a sudden, you?”

“No, it’s not that I’m dissatisfied with this job, you know?”

The master looked at me with a bitter expression, exasperated.

It’s not a lie; I really don’t have any complaints about this job.

Over the past five years, I’ve improved my cooking skills and become better at navigating life. I’ve painfully grasped the common sense of the world.

“What’s this? Are you unhappy with your pay, then?”

“No, no, I’m getting enough. But I think there might be a job where I could use my abilities better.”

To be honest, I’m getting quite a decent amount for being a mere diner staff.

And since I don’t want to go out much, I keep accumulating money.

“Hoh… well, it would be a waste to end up just as a diner staff. So, what? Are you aiming to be a high-class male prostitute? You could—”

“That’s one option, I suppose. But, as you know, I’m not very good with women.”

It’s more of an excuse or a preventive measure. I’ve been saying that ever since I was raped as a child, I’ve had a hard time with women.

Thanks to that, it’s been fortunate that I’ve been able to navigate situations when women have approached me.

Still, there have been instances where my efforts to avoid such encounters were in vain.

I can’t forget the experiences where I was sent out by colleagues, including the master, with the thought that I would be fine with a certain person, even though I deeply wanted to decline.

It was a common sight for the woman I reluctantly interacted with to return the next day, not only thanking me but also bringing a decent amount of money to the store.

Having witnessed such things multiple times, I suppose it’s believed that I could succeed if I aimed to be a male prostitute.

“Well, I see. So what are you going to do?”

“I’m thinking of opening a flag shop in the capital.”

When I said that, the master’s eyes widened in surprise.

A flag shop, to put it simply, is a selling-yourself business, like an individual brothel.

“N-no, if that’s the case, why not just work in a brothel? What’s this about you, who doesn’t like women?”

“Indeed, if I worked in a brothel, I could receive protection and guarantees from the state. I could refuse people with terrible appearances, and the pay would be satisfactory. But that’s just a system where those who gain continue to gain.”

I was genuinely shocked when I first heard about it.

The profession of a male prostitute is even considered sacred. They are seen as noble beings who offer a helping hand to less fortunate women.

To be honest, I think I would have jumped at the chance if there were no complaints about turning down clients based on their looks. But for me, the ugliest ones are the most beautiful.

“The sad look in the eyes of those incredibly ugly men who come to this shop. I just can’t bear it.”

It’s a white lie, but it’s also my honest feeling.

How many times have I wanted to tell the women who actively approached me that I wasn’t interested, and how happy I would be if they were older women?

“…. You.”

“I hate women, that’s true. But I can’t hate women who are being oppressed.”

The women who use this brothel are basically those who are banned from entering a regular brothel, which is a paradise for me. Of course, there are exceptions.

But since I’m doing this on my own, I don’t have to pretend to fit in with my values, and sadly, the sexual techniques I’ve acquired over the years are useful.

This is the perfect profession for me.

“Wait here for a moment.”

“Eh, yes.”

The master suddenly stood up and hurriedly went to the back.

As she left, I thought I saw tears in the corner of her eye, but maybe I’m being too optimistic.

Continuing to work here isn’t a bad path, I suppose.

But it’s truly exhausting to live in a community that is built on the common sense of this world.

Even casual communication between men, or talking about erotic things, requires careful consideration.

It’s the same when a friend introduces me to a “good woman” who turns out to be incredibly ugly.

“You should find a good woman too, let’s go drinking together sometime.”

“If you want, I can introduce you to one of my friends.”

It’s incredibly painful when someone is well-intentioned towards me, but I feel like it’s malicious because of their common sense.

Although I haven’t made any mistakes yet, my desire to actively engage with others has completely faded.

If I continue to work here, I’ll eventually make a fatal mistake, or my heart will break.

I can’t seem to endure this life without a clear future, unlike my past, where I could rationalize reaching this point.

Therefore, I choose to become a hikkikomori.

I’ll provide minimal customer service and live comfortably without worrying about food.

Someday, I hope I can get used to the values of this world, but if I can’t, then so be it.

“Take this.”

The master hurriedly returned and handed me a high-quality piece of paper.

Upon inspection, it was a deed of ownership.

“A deed?!”

“It’s from when I had a shop in the capital. It’s a small place, but more than enough to run a brothel… I’ll take care of the formalities.”

This is a great help. To be honest, it’s a hassle to rent a house without proper identification, so this is a relief.

“Heh… I’ll tell my daughter. It’s a shame that she won’t be able to call you ‘son’ anymore… but no woman has the right to interfere with a man’s courage. Go and do your best.”

“Master…”

It’s a kind offer, but it’s the first I’ve heard of it.

And, Daughter? She’s not that bearded one right? That was close.

“Yes! I’ll do my best!”

◇

“Oh, by the way, I consider him a man worthy of being called my son. Do you understand?”

“Yes… but is that okay? What about the ‘Ronyan’?” (T/N: It’s the name of the establishment or store to be given to Arius.)

“Towa, are you taking me for a fool? I’ll say it again, okay? He’s a man I consider worthy of being called my son.”

“I-I’m sorry, Eldo-sama.”

The conversation, shining faintly through the crystal, echoed in the room.

“He’s a man I haven’t forgotten for a long time. Yeah, be careful not to fall for him too easily. If you fall for him, you’ll need to be prepared.”

“You’re joking… even if my heart were to be stolen by him, I wouldn’t even be worth enough for him.”

“Hehehe, if that was the case, it would have been easier… well, it doesn’t matter. I’ll be in touch.”

The crystal turned off and became dark.

In front of it, I took a deep breath and tried to suppress the corners of my mouth, which were rising on their own.

“Mother…”

“Yeah, Liliel.”

The woman who appeared from behind me had sideburns that extended down her jawline, and her facial hair was so dense that it was hard to tell it apart from her beard.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t consult with you. I lost to his manliness.”

“It’s fine.”

The woman called Liliel shook her head, but her eyes still showed disappointment.

“It was a chance for you to be accepted for who you really are.”

“Please don’t make me feel any more disappointed…”

As she spoke, Liliel mumbled something under her breath, and her appearance changed completely from before.

“It’s a good thing that I have strong elven blood that is skilled in magic. Well, it doesn’t matter, you can visit his brothel sometime, you know?”

“I intend to, Mother. Since it’s a brothel, identity doesn’t matter.”

The half-elf smiled softly.

In this world, her appearance was truly that of an ugly woman.

“I don’t intend to let go of my husband, I do not intend to let it end like this.”

But to him, she was the epitome of beauty, his ideal type.