Chapter 6

I thought I knew everything about Isekai. I thought I knew what I wanted. I’ve gotten more practice regretting my mistakes than celebrating victories. My greatest regret is not learning what I really wanted before it was too late.

Nyarin and I walked back to the castle in warm, companionable silence.

The castle loomed ahead as we entered its outer walls. Castles had massive polished stone parapets in the shows. This castle was a modest three-story affair with wooden roof tiles instead of blue slate.

Nyarin followed my eyes, then hers drifted to the ground. “I suppose you’ll find a better world to travel to, perhaps one more fitting your might? The dragon was defeated so easily.”

A better world? It was a good question. What made for the best Isekai? If everything came easily, the story would be boring. But I didn’t like the Isekai stories where the hero had to suffer for many episodes before he was stable.

Were the stories where the hero got incredible power from a young age best? I had incredible magic now, but it hadn’t made me happy yet.

Maybe I’d be happier with a challenge, although I hated to admit Truck-kun might be right. Would I prefer an Isekai that followed video game rules? Would a leisurely life of ranching reptiles with Nyarin make me happy?

Nyarin broke the silence as we entered the castle’s shadow. “Sir Seo Igita?”

“Call me Seo.” The intimate use of first names wasn’t very Japanese, but I wasn’t in Japan any more.

She blushed. “What did the other hero mean?”

“What?”

“He said, ‘Dammit, not another Isekai’, but what is an Isekai?” She struggled with the word ‘Isekai’ since their language didn’t have an equivalent. Truck-kun and I both used the Japanese word ‘Isekai’.

“Well,” I gestured to the sky and ground, “‘Sekai’ means ‘world’, and ‘I’ means ‘other’. So ‘Isekai’ means ‘other world’.”

She shook her head in amazement. “Your people travel to other worlds so often you just have a word for them?”

I chuckled. “Not exactly. It’s mostly stories, books, or games.”

‘Isekai games?” She looked up, quirking a white and orange eyebrow at me.

“I used to communicate with Isekai story and game hobbyists who called themselves Truck-kun Isekai Fans. Initially, they were fans of the stories. It’s a popular genre.”

As the stories gained popularity, we found evidence a man who experienced life in another world after saving a girl from an incoming train. He lived ten years there but woke up a month later in our world. He wanted to find a way back.”

People thought he was insane, but he was the first of dozens. Most Isekai story authors actually experienced an Isekai. I grew obsessed. I figured out how to track Truck-kun. I read every testimony and played every video game.”

Nyarin tilted her head. “Video game?”

We entered the castle. “That might be hard to explain. Entertainment with many ways to interact with any kind of entrancing, moving images. They can consume your attention for hours.”

Her eyes widened. “Wonderful. Do they allow one to accomplish a great deal?”

I winced, “they mostly repeat the same gimmicks to squeeze money out of you before you get bored and move on to something else.”

“What do you like most about those games?” Nyarin asked as we climbed a flight of stairs.

“A sense of uniqueness, accomplishment without the frustrations and slow pace of real life. Immediate satisfaction. I guess that is what makes a good Isekai.”

“Seo,” Nyarin said, letting my arm go as we rounded the spiral staircase up toward the rooms assigned to Truck-kun and me, “there are ruins older than human civilizations to the east. They hold secrets as old as this world.”

“Let’s explore them. With your strength, it should be easy. The ruins contain deep magics that still function after millennia. Scholars think the deepest depths may hold the secrets to how the gods of hatred formed the dragon Sycoran.”

“That sounds like a fun game. Or,” I considered, “a fun quest in real life.”

Nyarin smiled and let her tail swish contentedly. We reached the wing of the castle reserved for the summoned hero. Or heroes, I guess. We waited at the door, but there was no ominous rumblings or explosions. There was a voice though.

“You’re cheating,” the voice said. I almost recognized it.

“Am not,” answered a second voice. That was definitely Truck-kun.

I opened the door to find Truck-kun at a chess board across from the top half of the green ghostly king still half-trapped in the copper disc in the opposite chair.

The king gestured for Truck-kun to move a chess piece.

Truck-kun did so. Then he moved another piece and said, “Check mate.”

“You’re cheating!” accused the ghost, “I can’t win my freedom if the game is rigged!”

“It’s not cheating because you aren’t real.” Truck-kun knocked over the enemy king. “You’re a hallucination conjured up by a powerful spell my boss whipped up. I can see your thoughts and the rules you have to follow.”

The king folded his arms irritably. “Who would play a game that didn’t present any challenge. Why bother with such diversions that hold no risk or purpose?”

“Oh!” Nyarin volunteered as we entered, “Sir Seo Igita’s world often engages in frivolous diversions that yield nothing of value. He’s told me about them.”

That wasn’t fair. Playing those games got me a level 80 mage with his own icy armor and a full collection of mana crystals. That’s hardly ‘nothing of value’, right?

“SIR Seo Igita,” Truck-kun said with a sarcastic emphasis on the title.

“Truck-kun.” I answered, flatly.

He glared back at me and I congratulated myself for winning the exchange. “Are you enjoying your new world, my satisfied customer?”

“Customer?” I asked.

“That’s what I call you dreamers. My boss calls you ‘worshippers’.” Truck-kun’s eyes flared red with the strange red fire as he examined the ghost king. “This game distracted me from my irritation. It gave me time to think.”

Truck-kun looked at me. “I tried to control the game instead of understanding the player. Everything here is pure imagination bound into rules.” He glanced at Nyarin and me, “well, almost everything. I’m trapped by the rules just like the customer.”

I stepped forward. “I’m staying here. Nyarin says there are ruins east of here. Another mystery to solve. An adventure. There’s plenty of adventure for me in this Isekai.”

Nyarin made a delighted noise, ears flexing and tail swinging.

Truck-kun waved a hand and the royal ghost collapsed back into the copper disc with a gasp of dismay.

“Adventure?” Truck-kun stood. “That dungeon has a puzzle at the entrance you can skip if you cut down the nearby mighty oak to expose an older pathway leading to three levels with ghosts, living armor, and embodied shadows weak against light magic. At the bottom is supposed to be this ghost king and his stupid dog.”

“You leave poochi out of this,” said a disembodied voice from the copper disc.

I stepped toward Truck-kun, closing the distance. Nyarin clung to my arm, nervous.

“Have you missed home?” Truck-kun asked. “Surely you’ve noticed this reality doesn’t feed your addiction to technology and social media.”

I backed down, suddenly uncertain. Could Truck-kun’s red glowing eyes read my thoughts too? The tingle returned to my fingers. I could feel my fingers on a touch screen, clicking to open a timeline of posts to scroll through brainlessly.

“Not every moment here is meaningful or exciting. Isekai stories gloss over the boring parts. They rarely mention how inconvenient the simple life of an adventurer can be.”

I missed Japanese toilets. And toilet paper. And simple sinks. I nearly shed a tear for my bathroom back home.

Truck-kun’s burning red eyes turned to Nyarin. “Others want to keep you here, but I need to leave. Most customers don’t stick with the first Isekai long. It takes time to find the right one. I tried ruining this world. I should have focused on the customer.”

I stuck out my chin in what I hoped looked like pugnacious and obturate resistance. I have a ‘word-a-day’ calendar at my work cubicle. “What are you going to try now?”

Truck-kun brushed aside his opalescent white hair and held two fingers in front of his eyes. The red flame in his eyes jumped to his fingers. He held the two pinpoint flames up for everyone to see.

Nyarin, still holding my arm, tensed like a delightfully curvy bag of coiled springs.

“I’m going to destroy this Isekai right now,” Truck-kun said. “My boss hates paying overtime.”