The Guild Master Whose Hobby Was Helping People Found Himself Surrounded by the Strongest, Overly Attached Members - 1

Chapter 1: Prologue

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Generally speaking, my life had been going pretty well. I had the memories of my previous life. In other words, I was what you’d call a reincarnator, and before I knew it, I found myself in this fantasy world of swords and magic.

There were adventurers, who dove into dungeons, defeated monsters, and gained fame. What a wonderful world. But the part that I considered “wonderful” was a little different than most people.

This world had guilds. A guild was an organization that often appeared in fantasy anime, manga, and games. It brought adventurers together, arranged jobs, shared information, and sometimes even arbitrated disputes. Basically, a guild was a neutral institution. It was, so to speak, the infrastructure of adventurer society.

Adventurers generally had to belong to some guild or another. It was both a rule and an unspoken understanding. But honestly, the general details didn’t matter much to me. What was truly amazing was—the “management allowance” provided to guild masters.

Running a guild involved tedious paperwork, trouble-shooting, personnel management, and even negotiations with the nation. That was why guild masters received generous allowances. And not just generous. The allowance received was at a level far beyond imagination.

The guild master of even a guild with only a handful of members could live comfortably on the monthly subsidies alone. The more seriously one managed the guild, the more the funds flowed in. And even if you did nothing, the minimum amount was still guaranteed to pour in.

And the ways those subsidies could be used were another marvel. Weapon purchases, training facility upgrades, the introduction of magic tools, expansion of lodgings—everything was approved under the name of “guild development.”

For example, things like the soundproof magical walls in my room, or a bath with temperature control available even at midnight, were all filed under “guild welfare program.” No one complained. No one even checked.

Thanks to that, I, who had worn my soul down at a black company in my past life, gained the option in this life to live without working. I was freed from those hellish days of trembling before my boss’s pressure, missing the last train, and eating convenience store meals in my working suit.

A wonderful system. A lukewarm paradise, officially sanctioned by the state. A slacker’s heaven.

My apprenticeship as an adventurer hadn’t been flashy either. I was mostly doing gathering requests and simple deliveries. Never overdoing it, always avoiding risk, and steadily piling up achievements. It was a humble but honest accumulation.

Eventually, after three years, I finally reached rank B. I prepared the startup funds and all the paperwork, and established my own guild. Of course, it was more complicated than a government office, and it wasn’t until the third visit that the clerk at the counter finally gave me a smile.

But still, the moment the notification of my subsidy arrived, it had all been worth it. Even with zero guild members, my stable life was guaranteed.

Looking back, in my previous life, things like “self-sacrifice is a virtue” or “everyone else is working hard too” created an atmosphere where people laughed even as they were crushed both from the inside and outside. Even when I clenched my teeth and worked to my bone, my boss only said, “That’s normal,” and never once gave me a word of thanks.

That was why I decided. 

In this life, I would risk my life only for my own pleasure.

So then, what would I do with days where I didn’t have to work? Good question. Human beings couldn’t endure idleness. Even with money, even with freedom, if left with too much free time, the heart rotted. Without goals, the soul dulled. How to use all this overflowing time—that was the question. And I had one answer.

I’m a masochist.

Although the term was often misunderstood, but I wasn’t a masochist in the psychological sense. I was the kind of pervert who found pleasure in physical “pain” and pushing myself to the “limits.”

The moments of a desperate battle against a monster, when my sword was about to snap, when blood seeped out from my orifice, when my breathing grew ragged… That exhilaration of “feeling alive” surged into my brain like my nerves were being burned. Yes. That sensation was simply  irresistible.

In my previous life, though I hadn’t gone that far, there was even a time when I aspired to be a martial artist. That said, the human body was too fragile. Break a bone once, and you’d be bedridden for months. Suffer a fatal wound, and you were simply dead.

Pleasure could only be felt while alive.

Which meant, this fantasy world was nothing less than a paradise. There was healing magic, there were potions, and people’s physical abilities were naturally higher than in my previous world. It wasn’t a world where you died from minor injuries. That was why I could indulge in the pleasure of living on the edge as much as I wanted.

…But taking on quests to fight wasn’t a good idea.

The moment a client knew I had accepted their request, they felt “safe.” Which meant, even while I was nearly dying in ecstasy—or even if I actually died—the client would keep on living under the assumption that “the monster has been defeated.”

Basically, my hobby could end up putting someone’s life in danger. A true pervert had to enjoy themselves without causing trouble for others. That was the bare minimum rule one had to abide by.

Furthermore, this fetish absolutely had to stay hidden from everyone else. Someone who went out of their way to seek out a strong enemy they could just barely win against, all so they could weigh their life against their pleasure… Someone like that was objectively a disgusting human being. I couldn’t complain if society expelled me had they known about this side of me.

So I searched for a way to fight on the edge without taking requests and I found a single answer.

That was… Helping people.

Find someone in trouble, and save them. If there was a monster to fight while saving them, my desires would be fulfilled as well. Even if I only happened to them by chance, someone would be happy.

Because it wasn’t a request, I had no obligation to fight, and there were no expectations of results from the people I saved. Even if I died, people would just say, “Well, at least he tried.” No responsibility, only fighting “for my own sake.” And if someone was saved in the process, all the better. Truly, there was no hobby more convenient than that.

That was why, even back in my adventurer days, I eagerly devoted myself to this pastime of mine… But over the past few months, clouds had begun to gather over my paradise.

The premonition arrived today, at the usual timing, accompanied by a modest knock.

“Excuse me. Shin-sama, may I begin today’s service for you?”

The door opened quietly, and with it drifted into the room a fragrance like a single blooming flower.

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