I had just discussed how you can’t choose the parents you’re born to. In a similar vein, not being able to choose the country and region you’re born into is another of life’s absurdities. Even being transferred to a new world worked the same way.
When I came to, I found myself standing on a filthy road in the middle of a town. The road had poor drainage, and the dirty water was staining my sneakers brown. It seemed I had been sent into this world with nothing but the clothes on my back.
It was currently sometime in the morning, so there were a decent number of people around. Many of them were equipped with swords and leather armor. Based on how everyone was walking in the same direction, I could imagine they were headed toward something like a guild or a dungeon.
The more I started to take in this new world, the more it dawned on me just how far I’d traveled from my own. Even though my T-shirt, khaki pants, and jacket didn’t quite fit in, the most I got from people passing by were a few glances. No one stopped to gawk at me.
There was no point in standing there doing nothing, so I decided to try and follow the crowd.
Going along with what everyone else was doing was one of my specialties as a Japanese person. Sure, I had arrived in a new world, but old habits die hard, and not nearly enough time had passed for me to forget my roots. In an unfamiliar place like this, choosing to go with the flow was an effective means of self-preservation.
The line of people stretched all the way to the town’s outskirts. As I kept walking, my gaze darting to and fro, I finally reached a wasteland that lacked any buildings. Some distance away from me was an area surrounded by walls, with a wide staircase descending into the ground. A signboard was posted in front: “Dungeon Entrance.”
Just as I’d thought, all these people were dungeon-bound adventurers.
Street vendors had set up shop near the staircase’s entrance, selling things like food and equipment. It appeared to be a common place for adventurers to have breakfast, and they were all purchasing various kinds of food from the shops.
Now that I think about it, I’m hungry too.
Enticing smells wafted from a nearby stall. It was selling what looked to be this world’s version of a hamburger, with assorted fillings like meat and onions nestled between two buns.
Even though I wanted a taste, I didn’t have a single coin in my pocket. If that didn’t change soon, I was going to starve to death. I needed some way to make money, but following the other adventurers into the dungeon was a no-go. I mean, I wasn’t a hero or a mage. I didn’t have any weapons or armor. I was just a plain old dagashi-ya.
Huh? Wait a second... That’s it! I’m supposed to be a dagashi-ya!
And if I was a dagashi-ya, then all I had to do was sell my snacks and I’d be golden! There were so many people around that surely some of them were potential buyers. I’d earn money like that and get myself an isekai burger. If I remembered right, all I had to do was tell my shop to open...
Hold up, wait. Is it really a good idea to suddenly set up shop here? If I come out of nowhere with a full-blown store, maybe the street vendors around me will get upset.
When I thought about it, my considerate nature prompted me to head toward an out-of-the-way corner. I was much farther away from the dungeon’s entrance now, but setting up shop here probably wouldn’t bother anyone.
Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I spoke in a small voice.
“Store, open.”
I could feel energy burst forth from deep within me. I’d been told that this was a world of swords and magic, so I was sure the shop had appeared by consuming some of my mana or something.
But my “store” wasn’t really an actual store.
What appeared before me was a small but lengthy carrying pole, with each end connected by strings to a large plate laden with goods to sell. It was a simple set-up.
Huh? Even my appearance changed!
Without me noticing, a brown apron had wrapped itself around my waist.
Is this what an official dagashi-ya is supposed to look like? I wondered.
I moved to a spot with a rock that looked good for sitting and set my carrying pole on the ground. Then I checked over the goods I was selling; they were all products that I was very familiar with.
The lineup included gum and sweets cheap enough to buy with a ten-yen coin, small cases of ramune candy, along with jars containing things like curry rice crackers and skewered squid.
“Man, this takes me back...” I murmured without thinking. There had been an old dagashi-ya from the Showa era near my parents’ house, and I’d gone there nearly every day as a kid. The goods that now lined my shop were all similar to what they had sold there.
That said, the packaging was slightly different. The writing on it was that of this new world.
Come to think of it, I had no trouble reading here. I’d also been understanding what the people around me were talking about, so it seemed like I didn’t have to worry about learning a new language. What a relief.
Well, I wouldn’t get any customers if I didn’t speak up, so I decided to try and put myself out there. I had absolutely no marketing or sales experience, but I was firm in my resolve to sell my products.
“How would you like some snacks? They’re cheap and delicious!”
One passing adventurer at least gave me a glance, but he continued past me without a word.
Scary...
Not only did his face look like it could kill, but he was also walking around with a weapon that could actually kill. I was just an ordinary guy from the peaceful country of Japan. Of course I had the jitters.
But if I don’t do this, then I can’t make a living!
I mentally slapped some tape on my cracking resolve.
“How about some snacks...?” I tried again, my voice quivering, and although my words had been quiet, a short-statured girl looked my way. Her large, round eyes were darting between me and the snacks with great curiosity. Now’s my chance...
“These snacks are very cheap,” I said. “How about them?”
The girl trotted over to me and began to peruse the goods on the plates, her short pink hair swaying in the wind.