Chapter 2 – Isekai 2 

Alright, so let’s recap the situation in my totally dignified, not-at-all-bitter tone: I had prepared this brilliant ruse to greet not one, but two Outlanders—two fresh-faced, starry-eyed heroes yanked from another realm. My well-rehearsed lines, carefully staged expressions, and the entire forest backdrop were ready for a dynamic duo. Cue the applause, curtain rises, two isekai saviors appear, and I have a front-row seat to their cosmic confusion. Perfect, right?I’ll publish my new novel and fix it as readers read

Except the universe decided to kick me in the shins. Instead of a neat pair of adventuring idiots, I got one. Just one. A single, lonely Outlander who popped into existence, looking like he just missed the carpool to fantasy dreamland. No second hero, no instant best friend for him to rely on, no convenient foil to keep him emotionally balanced. Just a solo act. Honestly, it’s like ordering a double scoop of ice cream and getting only half a cone. Talk about a cosmic letdown.

But hey, if you don’t have a dog, hunt with a cat—at least that’s what the old folks say. In this case, if you don’t have a pair of Outlanders to manipulate… well, you just work with the one you’ve got.

I plaster on my most sympathetic, grandfatherly smile—well, as grandfatherly as an 28-year-old with impeccable muscle tone can manage. Sure, I’m basically the same age as him, but after years in this gig, I feel like I’ve aged a few decades inside. Mentally, I’m a grizzled veteran who’s seen it all. Physically? I’m in my prime, thank you very much. Let’s not pretend otherwise.

“Hello, young man, are you lost…?” I say, keeping my voice low and gentle, like I’m an old sage passing down life lessons. It’s a classic move: appear wise, unthreatening, and slightly weary. Works like a charm on kids who’ve never seen a monster bigger than their school’s resident bully.

The boy—my sole Outlander—catches my eye. He’s gawking at me, clearly unsettled by my unexpected greeting. Can’t blame him, really. A moment ago, he was probably in a place with cellphones and microwaves, and now he’s in a medieval forest with a suspicious redhead calling him “young man.” Talk about a cultural shock.

The kid tries to speak, voice shaky: “Hi… I… well…”
He’s got that look on his face, the classic “I just woke up in the wrong universe” expression. It’s half confusion, half terror, with a dash of hope that this might be some elaborate VR prank. Poor guy’s in denial.

Time to size him up, get a good read on this potential troublemaker—or hopefully non-troublemaker. He’s scrawny, for one. Lean frame, no real muscle definition to speak of. He’s dressed in those bizarre clothes only Otherworlders wear—some kind of flimsy shirt with strange writing on it and pants that look like they were stitched by a blind tailor using cheap denim. No rips, no bloodstains, not even a scuff on his shoes. This kid doesn’t look like he’s ever been in a proper fistfight, let alone survived a monster attack. His eyes are brown and wide, and there’s an innocence there that suggests he’s never had to choose between saving a village or torching it to the ground. He’s got a full head of messy, dark hair that sticks up in clumps, as if he just rolled out of bed moments before the cosmic abduction.

In short, he looks… soft. Not spoiled, exactly, but sheltered. The kind of kid who might have complained if the internet was too slow or if the local café ran out of caramel syrup. Nothing about him screams “mass genocidal maniac” or “future Dark Lord.” He’s more like the kind of guy who’d apologize to you if you bumped into him. If I had to guess, he’s not going to be the type to throw a berserk tantrum because someone spilled his tea. Mana levels? I can sense some, but it’s faint—like a candle’s glow compared to the raging bonfire I’ve had to deal with in some Outlanders. I’m not saying he’s harmless, but I’m not exactly shaking in my boots.

“My name is Fred…” he says suddenly, extending a hand in a gesture so earnest it makes me want to roll my eyes. It’s like he’s expecting a handshake to solve all his problems. He’s probably never tasted real hardship, never watched a companion turn into a rampaging beast after a confession went sour. For this kid, a “bad day” probably meant getting a C-minus on a test.

I meet his hand and give it a gentle shake, adopting my most reassuring smile. “My name is Alfred…” I say, weaving my story as smoothly as possible. I tell him I’m a young swordsman—just a local guy who got lost in these woods while training. Basic stuff, vague enough to pass any initial scrutiny, but noble-sounding enough to earn trust. It’s all part of the script: present myself as an approachable authority figure, someone who can guide him while he’s all dazed and confused. He doesn’t need to know I’m basically a glorified babysitter with a license to kill.

And oh, does this kid talk. Once the initial awkwardness fades, he’s a waterfall of chatter. He tells me about his childhood friend—some girl who disappeared recently, presumably yanked into another world. He’s here to find her, he says, his eyes shining with a resolve that’s… well, cute. He spills his guts about his origins without even a nudge from me. No subtle interrogations needed. He confesses he’s from another world like it’s some grand revelation and expects me to be astonished. I feign mild surprise, of course. Gotta keep up appearances.

From his ramblings, I learn that he arrived here with a friend—some other kid, presumably another Outlander—but they got separated. So that explains the missing person. Perfect. I was worried some cosmic error robbed me of the second hero. Turns out he’s just wandering around somewhere else. Great, so now I have to track down a missing Outlander in addition to managing this clueless chatterbox.

But as the boy, Fred, continues on, it becomes increasingly clear he’s not a threat. He’s too open, too earnest, too… sincere. No tragic backstory that makes him thirst for revenge. No painful betrayal that’s going to turn him into a world-ending tyrant once someone looks at him funny. He’s just a kid who lost a friend and wants to bring her home. I guess that’s sweet. A rare, wholesome motive in a line of work where most of these kids come pre-packaged with fragile egos and explosive tempers.

After letting him babble for what feels like ages—and trust me, I’ve learned more about his hometown’s ice cream flavors than I ever wanted to know—I politely wrap up our meeting. I tell him I’m heading toward a nearby village. I drop a hint or two about how he might find clues about his friend if he heads east, where the Church of Saint Aurelius supposedly shelters lost souls. Who knows if that’s true. Probably not, but it’ll keep him busy and away from the public at large until I can figure out what’s next.

He thanks me profusely, and I do my best not to cringe. The kid’s optimism is almost painful. With a final nod, I leave him behind. Why spend more time than necessary? He’s harmless, as far as I can tell. His mana’s not impressive, and without his friend, he’s not going to form some unstoppable isekai tag-team. Better to focus my efforts on locating the missing one. That unknown factor could cause problems down the line.

So I stroll away, pretending to limp a bit—gotta keep my cover consistent, after all—and vanish into the greenery. Once I’m sure he’s out of sight, I straighten up, roll my shoulders, and let out a long, exasperated sigh. What a morning. So much planning for a duo, and now I’m left with a solo act who might as well be a traveling bard for all the danger he poses. Well, I’ll keep an ear out. Maybe he’ll surprise me… but I doubt it.

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【??? PoV】

Ugh. My head’s pounding, my mouth feels dry, and there’s a nasty smell in the air. What happened? One minute, I was arguing with that dork—Fred, was it?—about how we’d handle this whole “other world” situation, and the next… well, let’s just say I got the world’s rudest wake-up call. It feels like I just got tossed into a blender set to “mystical nonsense” and spat out somewhere dark and damp.

I try to push myself up, but something’s off. There’s a weight on my wrists and ankles—chains, I realize. Iron cuffs locked tight, connecting me to a long metal bar overhead. Perfect. Just what I needed: instant incarceration. My eyes adjust to the dim light, and I can just make out the rough texture of stone walls. There’s straw on the floor and a few dim torches flickering along a corridor. The sound of distant sobbing echoes through the space.

Slaves. I see them now—other figures are slumped against the walls, all chained, all filthy and trembling. Some look human, others have animal-like features. A few are whispering prayers under their breath, as if a benevolent god might step in at any moment. The air reeks of sweat, fear, and something metallic—blood, probably. I’m in a dungeon, or a slave pen, or some other cheerful tourist destination this world has to offer.

Great. Just great. So while that goody-two-shoes friend of mine is probably skipping through a sunlit meadow with some heroic local guide, I’m stuck here in a glorified holding cell. There’s a guard at the far end—a hulking figure, back turned to me, holding a spear. I can hear the clink of his armor as he shifts his weight. Occasionally, I hear muffled moans. This place isn’t new to cruelty, that’s for sure.

My heart’s racing. I try to recall what I can do—am I supposed to have some special power, some cheat skill these isekai scenarios always promise? I focus, but nothing happens. No magical HUD, no world-breaking ability manifesting. Just panic and the harsh reality of these chains.

I swallow hard. If I don’t figure something out, I’m done for. And worse, these other poor souls are stuck here too. What the hell happened? Where is Fred? Where is that promised heroic journey we were going to share? Did I take a wrong turn in the cosmic queue line?

Suddenly, the guard shifts and turns my way, revealing a scarred face lit by torchlight. He smirks, tapping the butt of his spear against the floor. I feel my stomach drop. The other prisoners recoil as if anticipating something terrible.

I’m in deep trouble. And I have no idea how to get out of it.