I never asked to be the center of chaos. In fact, if there were an Olympic event for avoiding trouble, I'd have been a gold medalist by now. Yet here I am: Itsuki Hiroto, a once-overworked salaryman now inexplicably isekai'd into a medieval land full of pious zealots, scheming nobles, and—of all things—a dragon with a penchant for causing collateral damage. And if you must know, I'd rather be anywhere else.
The Mundane Before the Mayhem
Every morning in Glintveil Town begins the same: I shuffle into the Merchant Guild's warehouse, a dim building awash in the dull scent of old parchment and unfulfilled dreams. My colleagues are none the wiser about my one-in-a-billion "skill"—the ability to literally play dead, which, to be frank, has saved me more than once from the sort of heroic antics I'd rather avoid.
That morning, I was just setting crates of exotic spices in neat piles while mulling over the prospect of a quiet cup of tea later. The plan was simple: stay invisible, keep my head down, and—if fortune favored me—score a few extra minutes of sleep. All of which was abruptly shattered when I heard a resounding roar outside the warehouse doors.
I glanced at my weary watch and thought, "Not today, fate…" But fate doesn't take a day off.
When Dragons Attack
The clamor outside grew into pandemonium. Shouts echoed through the cobblestone streets as townsfolk scrambled for cover. My instinct screamed, "Play dead!"—a tried and tested survival tactic. As I casually lowered my gaze and slumped against a barrel, my mind grumbled, "Seriously? I'd planned to be completely unseen today."
Before I could fully retreat into my usual impersonation of unconsciousness, the ground trembled with heavy, deliberate steps. Bursting into view from behind a tattered curtain was a dragon—its iridescent scales glimmering in the weak morning light, its eyes aflame with fiery purpose. The beast, however, seemed oddly confused as it surveyed the chaos it'd sown.
For a fraction of a second, I considered another round of my "dead act" but instincts finer-tuned than any plan took over. In that moment, without me even truly realizing what I was doing, my body reacted. A swift, almost involuntary surge of strength propelled my fist—yes, that same fist that could shatter castle walls—directly at the beast's lung.
Time appeared to slow as I observed, almost in disbelief, the consequence of my reflex. In one mighty, unintended blow, the dragon's advance was halted—and quite literally, the creature soared backward, crashing into the distant treeline with a thunderous uproar.
The warehouse erupted in chaos. Colleagues ran, yelling warnings and marveling at the spectacle, while outside, the townspeople, freed momentarily from their panic, gaped in stunned silence. I, on the other hand, tried to process what had just happened. In my mind, the mantra that had kept my life remarkably free from heroics rang loud and clear: "I just want to be left alone."
The Aftermath of Unwilling Heroism
Barely a minute later, armored knights and frenetic town guards rushed into the warehouse. Among them, a stern-faced woman in full plate—Lady Virelya Arkwright—fixed me with a scrutinizing glare that made every instinct in my body urge another round of hibernation.
"Identify yourself!" she barked, her eyes scanning my ordinary attire as if expecting hidden layers of divine energy.
"M-my name is Itsuki Hiroto," I stammered—though mostly because my throat was suddenly parched. "I… um… happened to be in the right place at the wrong time."
Lady Virelya's eyebrow arched as if my answer was a poorly kept secret. "The right place? You just defeated a dragon with a single punch, yet you claim it was an accident?" she demanded, her tone a mix of incredulity and a barely contained excitement that, if left unchecked, might ripple the very foundation of this world's propaganda.
Before I could muster another excuse (or a plea for some damn tea), Clovis—my forever clueless but overly enthusiastic friend—bounded in, wiping sweat from his brow. "Hiroto, you hero! They say you're the legendary 'Mob of Might' now!" he announced with the kind of wide-eyed earnestness that made it clear he had no idea what type of trouble he'd just dragged me into.
A low murmur spread through the gathered crowd. While I craved the solace of anonymity more than ever, fate seemed determined to slap me with absurd accolades. Cardinal Elgar, a high priest whose theatrical flair was matched only by his compulsive need to find divine meaning in every event, stepped forward. "Truly, you are a sign of our salvation!" he declared, his voice booming over the clamorous whispers of astonishment from the assembly. "Behold, the reincarnation of our prophesied savior!"
I wanted to collapse from exhaustion, but more urgently, I craved a quiet moment with my tea. Instead, I found myself reluctantly cast as the empire's new—and entirely unwanted—celebrity.
A Hero Reluctantly Crowned
In the coming hours, as the townsfolk marveled at the accidental warrior who had, quite literally, cleared the sky of a dragon, I was escorted to the makeshift palace of the Merchant Guild. Here, amid frantic negotiations and wild speculation, I was suddenly promoted to "Logistics Captain." The Guild's heads, desperate to spin this unforeseen event into a narrative of economic miracle, insisted that my accidental dragon dispatch was a sign of divine order—a quirk of fate that guaranteed prosperity in trade by scaring off rival merchants and, as a bonus, draconic threats.
Yet, amidst all the noise, I kept a single thought in constant rotation: "I wanted a peaceful life." In retrospect, perhaps I should have chosen that path a bit more wisely. With the dragon incident as my unwanted introduction to the world of heroes, prophets, and schemers alike, I now found myself embroiled in alliances and conflicts that were as messy as they were unexpected.
Lady Virelya, still unyielding in her suspicion, vowed to keep a close watch on me. "You're not leaving until we know your power's true extent, Hiroto," she warned, her voice a blend of awe and caution. Meanwhile, Cardinal Elgar busied himself with visions of holy pilgrimages, convinced that the heavens themselves had chosen me for greatness—even if I was intent on avoiding it.
As dusk approached and the chaos of the day settled into an uneasy calm, I retreated to my humble quarters provided by the Guild. That night, as I sat by a cracked window sipping lukewarm tea, I couldn't help but wonder: How was it that I—the guy whose greatest ambition was to fade into the background—had accidentally turned into a symbol of hope, a pariah of peace, and a magnet for supernatural turmoil?
The truth, as always, was both absurd and irrefutable. I was a man out of time, thrust into a medieval fantasy where destiny, divine intervention, and sheer dumb luck collided in the most inconvenient of ways. And all I could do now was brace myself for the inevitable parade of heroic quests, fraught diplomacy, and accidental world-saving escapades—all while secretly praying for just one uninterrupted moment of calm.
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So begins the misadventures of Itsuki Hiroto—the reluctant hero, the accidental dragon-slayer, the man determined to keep his head down in a world that refuses to let quiet exist. The road ahead promises more drama, laughter, and facepalm moments than I ever asked for. And believe me, I'm not exactly rushing to volunteer.