Chapter 6:

Welcome to Isekai: Choosing Not to Fade

One Tattoo, Many Hearts

Some time has already passed since arriving in this world and I was lead to this village. Choosing to fit in was harder than letting everyone choose for me. I was still not certain that this was the path I wanted to take in this new life of mine. Or rather, if this was the destiny I was given when I was reincarnated here. There had to be a reason for everything. The way villagers looked and spoke to me, the weird symbol in my palm, the wolf… If I were my old self, I would’ve just let everything brush off. But this was not an option for the new me.

My injuries were all but healed at this point. I was able to move around normally now. No more pain, no more tightness. I knew something big was about to happen, but I wasn’t sure when.

A light knock ended my thoughts. I stood up and opened the door.

The bright sun blinded me for a second. It was the middle of the day and the village was as lively as always.

“Commander Safford wants to see you,” a man clad in armor stood in front of me, donning a short sword at his waist.

This is it…

“Alright, I will go to him,” I responded.

“Now,” he continued. “Follow me.”

This was more like an order. After letting me stay in this village while I was recovering, there was no way I could turn this down. I had a slight fear that I might get asked to pay for treatment, or even worse, kicked out of the village. So far, I had no way of making money. In reality, I wasn’t even able to. But now, since my injuries have healed, I expected Safford to ask something around those lines.

Regardless of what I would be told by Safford, I had already decided on one thing…

I will not revert to my old ways.

The walk through the village felt different this time.

Not quieter. Not louder. Just… heavier.

People moved aside as we passed — not abruptly, not with fear, but with awareness. The kind that comes from knowing something is happening and deciding not to interfere. A pair of men paused their conversation near the well, lowering their voices until we were past. A woman carrying bread glanced at me once, then looked away, pretending she hadn’t.

I’m not injured anymore.

That realization struck harder than it should have.

Before, I’d been something fragile. Temporary. Someone to step around carefully. Now, there was no visible reason for hesitation — and yet it was still there.

So this isn’t about pity.

The guard walked a half-step ahead of me, his pace steady, practiced. Not escorting a patient. Escorting a decision.

I caught my reflection briefly in a window — clothes worn but clean, posture straighter than it used to be. Someone who looked like they belonged here.

And that scared me more than standing out ever had.

In my old life, I avoided places like this.

Offices. Authority. Conversations where answers mattered.

I would’ve found an excuse. Delayed. Let someone else decide.

But now, my feet kept moving.

No hesitation.

No turning back.

Then, I noticed it again. The familiar, but distant silhouette. Anyone could tell the difference between her and a normal human. It was the beastkind girl. She wasn’t looking at me. Not following me. But she made sure I noticed her presence. Certainly, it would not be an encounter that I will forget.

After our arrival, I was told to wait outside. The same bench that was in front of the building reminded me of my first day here, bringing back a nostalgic feeling. I sat down awaiting the new order to come in.

The bench was colder than I expected.

Not uncomfortable — just firm, unyielding. The kind that didn’t invite you to linger. I sat down slowly, resting my hands on my knees, and listened.

Inside the building, muffled voices carried through the thick wooden door. Not words — just tones. Calm. Measured. Occasionally sharp, then subdued again.

People making decisions.

A guard passed by, boots striking the floor with a steady rhythm. He nodded at me without stopping. Another followed shortly after, carrying a bundle of papers under one arm, eyes already focused on the next task.

No one paid me any special attention.

Which meant I was being taken seriously.

I don’t know which outcome scares me more.

I thought about my old life — the way I’d waited for emails, for replies, for things to resolve themselves. The way waiting had always felt safe because it delayed responsibility.

This waiting was different.

This waiting had an edge.

If the door opened right now, I wouldn’t be ready.

And if it didn’t… I’d only have more time to imagine what could go wrong.

I exhaled slowly, forcing my shoulders to relax.

I chose this.

That thought steadied me more than I expected.

“Elio,” the familiar voice came from close by.

“Len,” I said. “It’s been a while since we saw each other.”

“It has,” Len continued. “What are you doing here?”

“Commander Safford asked to see me,” I answered his question with a lower tone.

“So that’s how it is then,” Len responded. “I don’t think you need to worry. Even if he doesn’t show it much, Commander Safford has a big heart.”

That, at least, I could tell. Who would let an unknown man who came out of the forest alone and injured just stay in a village like that.

“I have to go now,” he continued. “If you need anything, don’t be afraid to come to me.”

“Thanks. For everything,” that was the only reply I could give him before he left.

The wait felt longer than it actually was. The feeling of heaviness was stronger than before.

“Elio,” the guard called to me.

“Yes?”

“Commander Safford will see you now,” he continued.

I was escorted to the same office as before. Nothing changed in the time that had passed. The same smell of wood covered by the smell of smoke filled my nose.

“Elio,” Commander Safford said, with a somewhat authoritive voice.

“Good to see you, sir.” I replied, waiting for him to speak.

“I can see you are doing better.”

He noticed. Not like it was hard to.

“Yes, sir. I am almost fully recovered.”

“Good,” his voice softened a bit. “Let’s get straight to the point. This village has been here for a long time. Most people living here already know where they fit.”

“I see,” I answered his statement.

“The problem with new people coming in is that the others will ask questions,” he continued. “And they will not agree to letting somebody live here for nothing.”

That was true. There was no place in this world — or better said, in any world — that would do that.

“I will not make you work, though. It is not my way of doing things. If you were born here, then maybe.”

His statement took me by surprise.

“I will let you choose your path. Whether you want to become a full resident here is up to you. There are plenty of ways to earn a living here.”

“I appreciate what you are doing for me,” I said. “But will this be alright?”

“It would be worse for me to choose something that you don’t like. That’s how most bad people appear.”

“Then, what would be my options,” I asked, already knowing some of the answers.

“There are some more dangerous than others,” he answered. “Adventurers, guards… And then there are easier ones. Daily village work.”

There it was. The choice I had to make. Do I choose the easy path and get lost in the crowd? Or do I take the more harsh one but hope that someday I will be known and respected?

“I don’t need your answer right now,” Commander Safford continued. “You can take your time and think this through.”

Commander Safford leaned back slightly in his chair, fingers resting against the edge of the desk.

“You should understand something,” he said. “We don’t turn people away easily. But we also don’t keep them without reason.”

“I assumed as much,” I replied.

“This village has seen travelers before,” he continued. “Some stayed. Most didn’t. A few caused trouble without meaning to.”

He met my eyes.

“And some meant to.”

The silence that followed wasn’t threatening — just heavy with implication.

“People think letting someone drift is kindness,” Safford said. “It isn’t. It’s how resentment grows. It’s how blame starts looking for a target.”

I’ve seen that before.

“Giving someone a place,” he went on, “means giving them weight. Responsibility. Expectation.”

He paused.

“Not everyone wants that.”

My fingers tightened slightly against my knee.

And not everyone survives it.

“That’s why I won’t choose for you,” Safford said. “The path itself will be hard enough without you resenting it.”

Was there anything to think about? Since coming to this world, I had an idea of how I wanted things to go. The thought of being forgotten was one I resented mostly because of my old life. At the same time, I couldn’t forget the fear I felt while being chased in the forest. Yes, there was an easy path. But what about my development as a person? I was not ready to give up then. Why should I give up now?

There it was.

The easy path didn’t sound shameful.

Daily work. Simple tasks. No danger. No attention.

I could fade into the rhythm of the village. Wake up. Work. Sleep. Be useful without being seen.

That doesn’t sound so bad.

The thought scared me.

Because it did sound comforting.

No expectations. No fear of failure. No need to prove anything to anyone.

And yet —

I remembered standing in the forest, heart pounding, legs burning, knowing that if I stopped running, it would all end there.

I remembered the emptiness that had followed me through my old life — not pain, not misery.

Just absence.