The First Job

What do you call someone who keeps hearing an unidentified narration echoing in their head at all hours?

A lunatic? A mental case? A cyberpsycho? ¹

[As you open the creaking tavern door, the stench of stale booze and the nonsensical chatter of drunkards greet you….]

The answer is a lunatic who believes he has been transmigrated to a TRPG world.

And whether he liked it or not, the man had to accept that meant he was insane.

“You’re late.”

He pushed open the tavern door and dropped into a corner seat that looked decent. As if he had been waiting, a massive man in a fedora slid into the seat with him. The wooden chair squealed under a body that had to be over two hundred kilos.

[Fixer Roach, also known as Hog Roach, is the partner who has been with you since you first set foot in this line of work. He roots out jobs like a pig, and you have been the one to carry them out.]

“…Roach.”

“Been damn hard to see your face these past few days, Mister Solomon.”

Because of that, he spoke the name of a man he had never seen in his life as if it were familiar. Roach did the same. From the start, he acted like he knew Solomon well.

“Did you sneak off on vacation without telling your partner? There’s a mountain of bastards that need killing.”

Hog Roach took off his fedora and set it on the table.

“Tell me the truth.”

“About what?”

“What were you doing, disappearing for three whole days? Don’t tell me you were looking for a new gig.”

Roach continued, not bothering to hide his suspicion.

“It’s not like we’ve been at this for a day or two.”

[Hog Roach watches you with suspicious eyes. You should carefully choose your response here.]

Ignoring the voice in his head, Solomon fell silent for a moment.

Not as roleplay acted out at a table, but as a criminal living a real life in this city.

───

1. [Negotiation] “I think there’s something I can do to clear up the misunderstanding.”

2. [Deception] “I went to Raspberry Street for a bit. Lately, I’ve been feeling a little cold at my side.”

3. [Seduction] “That endless rod of suspicion of yours… you want to stick it in my hole and settle this?”

4. [Analysis] “From the looks of it, up top has been leaning on you hard.”

5. [Intimidation — Easy] “Shut your mouth, you goddamn hog. Keep squealing and I’ll hang that pig body of yours on a butcher’s hook.”

───

“……”

The silence did not last long.

“Shut your mouth, you goddamn hog.”

Solomon spoke.

“Keep squealing and I’ll hang that pig body of yours on a butcher’s hook.”

[Intimidation successful! Hog Roach’s thick jaw quivers like fresh-cut pork belly!]

‘Good thing I took an intimidation trait.’

The 「Rough Tongue」 he bought during character creation for 1 Aptitude Point (AP).

Roach’s face, which had been snarling like it wanted to eat Solomon alive, clouded with confusion.

“Forget the useless crap. Let’s talk work.”

Solomon used the momentum to take control of the conversation.

“Y-Yeah… sure.”

Only then did Hog Roach wipe off cold sweat and pull a stack of documents from his coat pocket.

“Two jobs. One small fry, one nasty. Which do you want first?”

“Let’s start with the nasty one.”

“It’s a request from the Cesspit Mage Tower.”

“……”

[Cesspit Mage Tower. True to its name, it is a secret den of underground mages who live dangerous, illegal lives in the city’s underbelly, with no way back.]

“I heard a top-secret bio experiment failed, and on top of that, the test subject escaped.”

As expected, it didn’t sound easy.

“After it escaped, it went into hiding in the Lowlands sewers. They want you to deal with it.”

“Info on the subject?”

“Here.”

Without a word, Solomon took the papers Roach handed over.

The writing on the paper was clearly not a script Solomon knew from his world. And yet he understood it effortlessly, like it was his native language.

‘Let’s see…’

In a corner of the document, along with the monster’s information, there was an illustration that looked like it belonged in a Lovecraft² story.

Mucous skin that looked so soft it almost felt tangible. A gaunt frame and limbs stretched grotesquely long. It was deeply unsettling.

Where facial features should have been, a vertically split mouth gaped wide, teeth bared.

‘I saw this in the rulebook.’

Solomon realized the illustration was very familiar.

A creature he had seen under the name ‘Cursed Test Subject of the Cesspit Mage Tower.’ The listed traits and weaknesses were similar too.

The problem was that it was a level 3 hostile creature.

Compared to that, the Solomon here was, by setting, a level 1 rookie who had just entered the world of the game. Fighting it right now would be suicide.

“What’s the small-fry job?”

When Solomon smoothly changed the subject, Roach shrugged without even pulling out papers.

“There are some brats running their mouths and getting too bold lately. They need a little lesson in manners.”

“Be specific.”

“It’s a goblin gang called Deadly Snitch. They’re holed up at the Bloodstained Raven Tavern in Blackwater Harbor. They might be useful later, so don’t go too overboard…”

Roach continued calmly.

“Kill about three or four and teach them manners. And when you do it, don’t forget this one.”

As he spoke, Roach held something out. A wanted poster. A goblin portrait with an ugly scar carved into its right eye.

‘Most goblin gangs were level 1.’

The signature ‘small fry’ race that shows up no matter the genre or medium. This world was no exception.

“I’ll handle it right away.”

“Yeah, now that’s more like it. Oh, it’s finally here.”

Solomon was about to stand immediately.

As if on cue, fries and a plate of freshly grilled steak were delivered in front of Roach.

“Mmm! Smack, smack. You want some too…? Chew, chew….”

Living up to the nickname “Hog,” he grabbed the sizzling steak right off the hot grill with his bare hands, no fork or knife, and tore into it greedily. He stuffed meat into his mouth, juice pouring down under his thick jaw.

“No.”

Turning away, the sight wiped out what little appetite Solomon had.

Three days had passed since he had been transmigrated to this world.

In that time, Solomon learned a lesson down to his bones. Humans are incredible at adapting.

The first day. Before he could even deny what was happening, hunger hit him the instant he opened his eyes, like he had been starving for days. So he stole bread. The pickpocketing was so smooth it surprised even him.

And he realized the nimble hands that slipped someone else’s bread away were thanks to the Dexterity stat he had assigned during character creation.

At night, he needed somewhere to sleep.

Thankfully, the ‘voice’ in his head told him he had a place to stay in the city.

There was a bed. There were clothes. There were even all sorts of tools for making a living, thoughtfully prepared.

Whether he liked it or not, what he needed to do was obvious. Survive. Eat. Live. And so the man accepted the life and role called ‘Solomon.’

It was not like he had some special reason to.

Survival does not need a story. Just because you have no reason to live does not mean you suddenly have a reason to die.

No matter what, he would survive first. And to survive, he needed power.

The lucky part was that his existence here was made of nothing but a story of strength.

[Beyond the harbor streets draped in thick pre-dawn darkness, goblins with gang tattoos begin to loiter…. Ah, there is a tavern in sight. Your destination is close now.]

He had also started to grasp the narrator in his head that spoke at all hours.

It was useless to speak to it. It wouldn’t communicate back. This damn voice was strictly one-way, like a storyteller calmly explaining the scene from offstage.

That was why it was impossible not to know what the voice was.

The supreme coordinator at the table, the Game Master.

‘…The GM is not the player’s enemy.’

In other words, this suspicious voice was not Solomon’s enemy right now. For now, he had no choice but to believe that.

‘Here it is.’

Just like now.

There was no way he had memorized the layout of a city he had never seen in his life after only a few days. He had simply walked.

And yet, as he wandered aimlessly, the narration sounded, and like a lie, the destination appeared right in front of him.

The Bloodstained Raven Tavern. He opened the door without hesitation, and a group that especially drew the eye came into view.

A goblin gang. Short, squat monsters with disgusting green skin gathered together, plotting something shady. Solomon casually passed them and sat at the end of the bar.

“What’ll you have?”

“Vodka martini. Shaken, not stirred³.”

He recited the line he had seen in a movie, and the drink came right away. Solomon silently stared at the liquid in the glass.

Considering what he was about to do, drinking was not a good idea. And yet no matter how he thought about it, he felt like he needed at least a drink.

It was not his first time fighting a gang. On the first day after arriving, when he wandered the streets, he had gotten into it with a crew that threatened him for ‘protection money’ because it was their turf. He learned how to fight then.

More precisely, it felt less like he learned it and more like he ‘remembered’ it.

And the opponent was goblins, the definition of small fry among small fry.

‘Yeah. What’s the point of hesitating.’

After thinking it through, Solomon downed the drink. A burning-hot liquid raced down his throat. That was his resolve.

With that momentum, he stood and walked toward the goblin gang.

As he drew closer, he finally noticed someone naked and kneeling among them.

‘?!’

Solomon swallowed his breath at the unexpected sight.

“T-Troll… hurts, troll… w-was wrong….”

A hulking monster several times the size of Hog Roach was begging like a baby. It was curled up so deep in the corner that it was hard to notice from outside.

‘A troll?!’

He was flustered at the unexpected monster. The goblin gang didn’t care and raised their voices, aimed right at the troll.

“Useless troll bastard. Let’s skin him and stuff him while we’re at it!”

“I’ll be generous and settle for a few teeth. Open up!”

“Troll… don’t want teeth to hurt…! I was wrong! I’ll fill more quota…! I’ll work ten times harder!”

One particularly nasty-looking goblin shouted while holding a pair of bloodstained pliers. It was the scarred goblin from the wanted poster.

“Oh yeah? You resisting? You want your eyeballs ripped out too?”

“T-Troll! Eyes important! Rabbit like kid, foxy wife, see with eyes! Can’t see without eyes!”

“Yeah? Then shut up and lose some teeth! And fill triple the next quota!”

“Troll… o-okay….”

Luckily, it did not look like a troll that lived up to its size.

“What are you looking at, you lummox. You here to sightsee?”

Then, one goblin yelled at him. Solomon coolly weighed the situation and asked back.

“You’re Deadly Snitch, right?”

“Who the hell is this bastard?”

The goblin snapped back irritably.

“Yeah! Our boss is busy collecting dues, so while I’m asking nice…”

Once he heard the answer, strangely, there was no hesitation. It surprised even him.

His hand moved on its own. A pale gleaming blade shot forward along his fingertips. A concealed knife hidden in his sleeve. A string mechanism tied to his finger let him pull and grip it instantly.

This grip.

The sensation of drawing and handling a killing blade he had never held in his life, as if he had held it all his life.

Chwaaak!

“Ghk, guhk!”

He tore open the neck of one goblin, and bloody foam burst out. The breathless breath made a wheezing, leaking sound.

‘That’s one action spent.’

There was no leisurely dice rolling and watching the results. No waiting for the next turn. This was not a tabletop.

“Ambush!!”

Puk!

As one goblin shouted in panic, a cold edge shot out again. Green blood sprayed again. Two actions spent.

“This bastard, how dare he…!”

The goblins were about to belatedly form up for a fight.

‘<Shadow Mimic>.’

Solomon focused his will and recited the spell in his head.

One of the three spells he had selected in advance when starting as a Spell Assassin, his job and rare archetype.

‘That’s three actions spent, and one spell spent til now.’

A draining weakness washed over him, like the tide pulling something out of his chest.

Then, from the shadow behind the scarred goblin’s back, a black, dark shape suddenly surged up.

“B-Boss! Behind you…!!”

“What?!”

The scarred goblin from the wanted poster. The shadow rising behind its back had already become a pitch-black substance.

Level 1 spell, Shadow Mimic.

True to its name, it summons a shadow that mimics the caster’s actions.

The shadow rose behind the scarred goblin and mimicked the exact same slash Solomon had just done, gripping a shadow blade as dark as the night sky.

Chwaaak!

A fountain of blood erupted that could not be compared to two strikes Solomon had made just prior.

A destructive burst of bleeding, like a high-pressure pump blasting water.

It was so overdone that it went past horrifying, to the point it felt like a game designed to exaggerate gore and violence.

‘Like a game—’

The moment he thought that far, he understood instinctively. Goosebumps ran down his spine.

At first he thought it was the spell’s power. No. This spell was mimicry. It couldn’t be different.

Only one thing was different. It was used from behind, not from the front.

‘Sneak Attack!’

If you land a blow from behind before the enemy notices, the rules treat the attack as 「Sneak Attack」, ignoring defense and granting advantages like bonus damage.

In simple terms, a backstab bonus.

That was the definition of Sneak Attack written in the rulebook.

That blood-soaked strike just now was a kind of visual emphasis effect that announced Sneak Attack had triggered properly.

Like the flashy effect in a game when you land a critical hit.

‘It follows the rulebook…!’

The spells, the rules for handling attacks in certain situations, none of it was unfamiliar. Even his own existence here.

By the rules.

Those three words chilled Solomon’s mind in an unnatural way.

To survive, he had to become strong. And by the rules, he could become stronger than anyone in this world. He had been designed that way from the start.

Even if it was only in the form of possibility, it did not change anything.

Beginnings were always like this.

“It’s magic…!”

“Ghk, it’s shadow magic!”

“H-He’s a mage!”

The shadow mimicked Solomon’s action, then collapsed where it stood. At the same time, the burning hostility in the goblins’ eyes vanished like a lie.

“W-We were wrong, Mage!”

“We dared not recognize you! We committed a sin worthy of death! Please forgive us!”

“I-I’ll wash my hands and go home and listen to my mom!”

Without anything resembling resistance, the goblin gang dropped to their knees.

“……”

Solomon adjusted his grip on the hilt and hesitated for a moment.

‘He said to kill about three or four, so the job itself is done.’

The work was done. He had killed the ones he needed to kill. Even so, Solomon’s blade did not stop.

Four, five.

Six.

[You leveled up! Good experience is the foundation of growth.]

As if it had been waiting, the voice in his head rang out. Without even a hint of resistance. Only then did Solomon stop moving.

Is it over? Praying it was, the goblins in panic cautiously watched for his reaction.

Like cattle in a slaughterhouse, trembling as they waited for death.

“T-Troll… what happened…?”

In the middle of it, the troll did not understand what was going on and tilted its head like an idiot, as if it did not even know whether it should tremble or not.

Solomon stared at them without speaking.

‘…Leaving that troll aside.’

Five goblins remained. He had killed six and reached level 2, and there were still five left who could provide “experience.” There was no reason to hesitate over a golden chance to farm EXP.

Blood splattered along the tavern wall like cheap graffiti.