Time out! There's Too Much Work, Too Little Time

Okay. Timeout. 

No, not you guys. All of you, just keep doing what you’re doing. Justus, keep planning your sad, lonely trip back to Heretic Central. Eliza, don’t let me stop you from trying to save the world with the power of accounting. Marie, Edgar, you too. Just give me a minute here.

I’m talking to you. Yeah, you. The one on the other side of the page. The author. The puppet master. The cruel, capricious god of this cheap, knock-off isekai universe.

We need to talk. Right now.  

What , exactly, do you think you’re doing? I’m asking you as a person. As a character who is currently trapped in this narrative nightmare you’ve cooked up. What happened to the deal? What happened to the premise?

Let me read you the title of this story. Your title. “That Time I Was Accidentally Summoned Into A Different World As Max-Level Hero But The World Is PEACEFUL?” Do you see that word? The one I’ve mentally capitalized and bolded? Peaceful. It’s right there. It was the core of our agreement. The foundation of my new life.

I was promised a low-stakes comedy about a guy trying to slack off as a hygiene inspector. I was promised cursed bath products and maybe, if the plot really got spicy, a magically aggressive mildew problem. That was the contract.

So please, explain to me how we got here.

                                                                                                                                

Let’s review my last few weeks, shall we? First, it was a cursed loofah. Fine. Annoying, but I handled it because it was messing with my favorite bathhouse. It was a selfish, character-driven motivation. I can respect that. Then, a giggle curse. Again, deeply stupid, but it was getting in the way of my plans, so I was motivated to invent a universe-breaking miracle cure just so I wouldn't have to deal with it again. That’s good writing. My character’s core desire—to be lazy—was driving the plot forward.

But now? Now, what do we have? An international political conspiracy. A heretical church cult with a ridiculously, lawsuit-ably stupid name. A paladin who has had a complete ideological breakdown and has now decided I’m his new religion. A princess who is secretly a spymaster. And the earth-shattering revelation that this entire world is a cheap, shameless rip-off of a much better, more successful light novel!

This is not what I signed up for! This is a plot! A real, actual plot! With stakes, and intrigue, and foreshadowing!

Do you have any idea how much work a plot is? It’s exhausting. The meetings are endless. Look at them. Justus is over there planning a covert infiltration of his own country. That’s spy-thriller stuff. Eliza is trying to build a legal case against a man who is essentially the pope’s right-hand man. That’s a courtroom drama. Marie is managing a new multinational pharmaceutical empire while also running a black-ops intelligence network. That’s a political thriller.And I’m stuck in the middle of all three! I’m the lead in a story I don’t even want to be a background character in!

“Is the Hero alright?” I vaguely heard Marie’s voice say from across the room. “He’s been staring at that wall and muttering about ‘violating the terms of his contract’ for the past ten minutes.”

“Possible psychological break due to the stress of command,” Eliza’s voice replied, followed by the faint scratching of her pen. “I will make a note.”

I’m not having a psychological break! I’m having a heated discussion with my creator!

I know how stories like this go. I’ve read them. I was the target demographic, remember? I know what you’re planning. Now that you’ve introduced a conspiracy, what’s next? A training arc? Let me stop you right there. I’m max-level. I don’t need to train. My knees hurt when it’s damp, and I get winded walking up a single flight of stairs. I am not training arc material.

After that, we’ll probably have to gather the seven magical macguffins of ultimate plot convenience. Then we’ll have to face off against Alistair’s four elite generals, the Devas of Annoying Miniboss Fights. Then, probably a tournament arc for some reason. And it will all culminate in a final, dramatic battle to stop them from unsealing the Demon King!

“Perhaps he is communing with a higher power for guidance!” Justus’s hopeful voice chimed in.

Yes, I am! And I’m telling him to knock it off!

Just listen to me, Author. For one second. Can we please just de-escalate? Can we go back to the cursed bathroom accessories? Please? I’ll even fight a cursed toilet brush. I don’t care. Just no more politics. No more conspiracies. And for the love of all that is holy, can we put a pin in the character development for the side characters? Justus’s journey of self-discovery and his crisis of faith is really cutting into my nap time.This was supposed to be easy! I was supposed to be the comic relief in my own life story. But you just had to raise the stakes, didn’t you? You just had to introduce a villain with a plan. You couldn't just let me be rich, tax-exempt, and lazy in peace.

I’m begging you. Just let me go back to inspecting drains. Let me be the Hero of Hygiene, not the Hero of Whatever This Overly Complicated Mess Is. Please. I’ll do anything. I’ll even pretend to enjoy those holy wafers Justus keeps leaving on my desk.Just let my life be boring again.I finished my silent, one-sided rant, completely exhausted from the sheer effort of complaining. I let out a long, weary sigh and finally looked away from the wall.

The entire team was staring at me. Justus, Eliza, Marie, and Edgar. All of them had expressions of deep and profound concern.

“Sir…?” Edgar asked timidly. “Should… should I get you some tea?”I just shook my head, rubbing my temples. “Never mind,” I mumbled. “I just had a very long and unproductive meeting with upper management.”

I put my head down on my desk, the hard wood a poor substitute for my pillow. I was utterly defeated. Not by a demon, not by a heretic, but by the sheer, overwhelming weight of my own plot. This was going to be a lot more work than I thought.