I was going to die.
Not metaphorically. Actually die. Of starvation. In a fantasy world. Because I had no money and the System thought this was hilarious.
[System: Quest Update - Time Remaining: 1 hour, 34 minutes!]
[System: Helpful tip: Humans typically need food to survive! ♪]
"I hate you so much," I muttered, stumbling through the darkening streets.
The marketplace had closed. Most of the food stalls were packed up, leaving only the lingering smells of roasted meat and fresh bread to torture me. My stomach growled so loudly that a passing couple looked at me with concern.
I needed food. Now.
And then I smelled it.
Roasted chicken. Fresh bread. Something savory and rich that made my mouth water instantly. I turned toward the source like a zombie drawn to brains and found myself staring at a tavern.
"The Tired Traveler," the sign read, swinging slightly in the evening breeze.
Warm light spilled from the windows. I could hear laughter and conversation inside. And that smell—
My feet were moving before my brain could catch up.
Wait. I don't have money. I can't—
But I was already pushing open the door.
The interior was exactly what you'd expect from a fantasy tavern. Wooden tables, a long bar, a fireplace crackling in the corner. Adventurers and locals filled the space, eating and drinking and being generally merry.
And behind the bar stood a woman who looked like she could arm-wrestle a bear and win.
She was tall, broad-shouldered, maybe in her late forties, with graying brown hair pulled back in a severe bun. Her face had the kind of hardness that came from years of dealing with drunk customers and people trying to skip out on their tabs. Sharp eyes assessed me the moment I walked in.
"Seat yourself," she called out. "I'll be with you in a moment."
I found an empty table in the corner and sat down, trying to look casual. Like I belonged here. Like I definitely had money and wasn't a desperate, starving otherworlder with a power level of 2.
The woman—the owner, presumably—approached with a notepad. "What'll it be?"
"Um—" My stomach growled again. Loudly. "What do you recommend?"
"Depends on your budget." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "We have stew for three copper, roasted chicken for five, or the full feast platter for two silver."
I had no idea what the currency conversion was, but all of it sounded amazing.
"I'll... start with the stew?"
She nodded and walked away.
Okay. Okay, I'll eat the stew, and then... then I'll figure something out. Maybe I can wash dishes? Or—
The stew arrived, and all rational thought left my brain.
It was delicious. Rich and hearty, with chunks of meat and vegetables I didn't recognize but didn't care about. I devoured it in what had to be record time.
The owner returned. "Another?"
"Yes! And—do you have bread?"
"Two copper for the loaf."
"I'll take it!"
The bread arrived. I tore into it like a wild animal. It was still warm, butter melting into the crust, and I could have cried from how good it tasted.
"Anything else?" the owner asked, and there was the faintest hint of a smile on her face now. Like she knew exactly what was happening.
"The chicken," I said. "And—what's that?" I pointed to a plate passing by.
"Honey-glazed pork."
"I'll take that too."
"And to drink?"
I was about to ask for water when I spotted bottles behind the bar. "What's... that?"
"Ale. We also have wine, mead—"
"Ale! I'll try the ale."
She poured me a mug and set it down. I took a sip.
It was strong. Way stronger than I'd expected. It burned going down, but then there was this pleasant warmth spreading through my chest, and suddenly the stress of the day felt... distant.
I took another sip.
And another.
By the time the chicken arrived, I was pleasantly buzzed.
By the time the pork was gone, I was definitely drunk.
And that's when things got... blurry.
I remember standing on a table at some point.
"—and THEN," I was saying, way too loudly, "I became a YOKAI! The LEGENDARY Truck-kun! You've probably heard of me!"
Someone in the crowd: "Never heard of you."
"WHAT?! I'm FAMOUS! I've isekai'd HUNDREDS of people! I'm a CULTURAL ICON!"
Laughter. Someone passed me another drink.
"You know what?!" I raised my mug. "Drinks for EVERYONE! On me!"
Cheers erupted.
The owner—Agatha, someone had called her—appeared with a tray of mugs. "You sure about that, miss?"
"ABSOLUTELY! I'm Truck-kun! I'm gonna be a DEITY! I can afford it!"
More cheers. More drinks.
At some point, someone challenged me to a drinking contest. I accepted with the confidence of someone who had completely forgotten they were in a weak human body with no alcohol tolerance.
I lost. Obviously.
But not before ordering more food. So much more food. Things I couldn't even name. Just pointing at plates and going "THAT ONE! AND THAT ONE!"
The last thing I remembered was Agatha's face, smiling in a way that should have been a warning, asking if I wanted dessert.
"ALL THE DESSERTS!" I'd apparently declared.
And then... nothing.
Pain.
That was my first conscious thought upon waking.
My head felt like someone had taken a hammer to it. My mouth tasted like something had died in there. And there was light—harsh, terrible light—streaming directly into my eyes.
I groaned and tried to sit up.
Bad idea.
The room spun. My stomach lurched. I flopped back down onto... a table?
I was sprawled across a table in the tavern. The morning sun was shining through the windows. A few early customers were eating breakfast and pointedly not looking at me.
"Oh good," a familiar voice said. "You're awake."
I turned my head—slowly, because any sudden movement might kill me—and saw Agatha standing there with her arms crossed and a piece of paper in her hand.
"What..." My voice came out as a croak. "What happened?"
"You don't remember?" She sounded almost amused. "You had quite the night. Let me refresh your memory."
She held up the paper. It was covered in writing.
"Let's see... You started with the stew. Then bread. Then the roasted chicken, the honey-glazed pork, the grilled fish, the shepherd's pie, three orders of fried potatoes, the vegetable medley—"
"Okay, I get it—"
"—four mugs of ale, two glasses of wine, one bottle of mead that you insisted on trying, the apple tart, the chocolate cake, the cream puffs—"
"Please stop—"
"—and then you bought three rounds of drinks for the entire tavern." She looked up from the paper, her expression pleasant. "The total comes to forty-seven silver and eighteen copper."
Silence.
My brain tried to process that number and failed.
"F-forty-seven silver?"
"And eighteen copper, yes."
"That's... that's a lot, right? That sounds like a lot."
"It's approximately three months' wages for a common laborer." Her smile widened. "So. How would you like to pay?"
I stared at her. Then at the paper. Then at the empty plates still scattered around my table.
[System: Quest Failed - Survive Your First Night]
[Penalty: Massive Debt Acquired!]
[New Status Effect: Hungover (All physical stats reduced by 50% for 4 hours)]
[Current Karma: -10000000000000000000000023]
How did I LOSE karma?!
[System: Public drunkenness and disturbing the peace! ♪]
"I..." I looked back at Agatha. "I don't have any money."
"I see." She didn't look surprised. At all. "Well then. We have a problem."
"Look, this is clearly a misunderstanding. I didn't mean to—I was drunk! You can't hold me responsible for—"
"You ordered the drinks yourself. Multiple witnesses." She gestured to the other customers, who all nodded helpfully. "And you very enthusiastically insisted on paying for everyone."
One grizzled adventurer raised his mug. "Thanks for that, by the way. Best night I've had in weeks."
I wanted to die. Again. Properly this time.
"So," Agatha continued, "I'll give you two options. Option one: I call the guards, you get arrested for theft of services, and you spend the next few months in jail."
"Or?"
"Option two: You work off your debt."
I perked up slightly. "Work? Like... doing what?"
"Oh, all sorts of things." Her smile was getting wider. More predatory. "Dishes. Cleaning. Laundry. Food prep. Serving customers. Whatever needs doing."
"For how long?"
"Until your debt is paid off." She pulled out a different piece of paper. "Standard rate is two copper per day, plus meals and a place to sleep."
My hungover brain tried to do the math and gave up halfway through. "That's... that's a long time, isn't it?"
"Several months, yes."
"MONTHS?!"
"Unless you can pay now?" She waited. I said nothing. "Thought so. So, do we have a deal?"
I looked around the tavern. At the dishes piled up behind the bar. At the floors that needed sweeping. At Agatha's expression, which was the look of someone who'd just acquired exactly what they wanted.
I was being exploited. I knew I was being exploited. This was absolutely a scam.
But what choice did I have?
"...Fine," I muttered. "Deal."
"Wonderful!" She produced a contract from—somewhere. Had she had that ready? "Just sign here, and here, and initial here—"
"Wait, there's a contract?"
"Of course. This is a legitimate business arrangement." She handed me a quill. "Standard employment terms. Room and board provided, two copper daily wage to be applied to your debt, mandatory work hours from dawn to dusk—"
"DAWN TO DUSK?!"
"—with one day off per week, assuming good behavior and no damages to tavern property—"
"This is slavery!"
"This is employment," she corrected primly. "You're free to leave anytime you want. Of course, if you do, I'll have to report the theft to the guards, and then you'll be a wanted criminal, so..." She smiled. "Your choice."
I grabbed the quill and signed with more force than necessary.
Agatha took the contract, looked it over, and nodded with satisfaction. "Excellent. Welcome aboard, Hitomi. You start now."
"Now? But I'm hungover! I feel like death!"
"Should've thought of that before ordering all that mead." She gestured to the kitchen. "Dishes are waiting. And after that, the floors need mopping. Oh, and we're expecting a large dinner crowd tonight, so you'll need to help with prep work around midday."
I stared at the pile of dishes visible through the kitchen doorway.
There were so many.
So. Many.
"I'm going to die," I whispered.
"Probably not," Agatha said cheerfully. "Most of my workers survive. Now get moving. Those dishes won't wash themselves."
[System: New Status - Indentured Servant!]
[System: Achievement Unlocked - "That Escalated Quickly"]
[System: You really should have read the contract more carefully! ♪]
I trudged toward the kitchen, my head pounding, my stomach churning, my entire body screaming in protest.
This was fine.
Everything was fine.
I just had to do dishes for a few months. In a fantasy world. With no powers. And negative karma. And a System that wouldn't shut up.
I'm going to find a loophole, I thought grimly, staring at the mountain of dishes. I'm going to find every single loophole in that contract, and I'm going to exploit them until Agatha regrets ever meeting me.
But first, I had to survive the dishes.
I picked up a plate. It was crusted with dried food. The water in the basin was cold. There was no soap that I could see, just some kind of sandy scrubbing powder.
This was going to be a long day.
[System: Current Objective - Wash 247 dishes without breaking anything!]
[System: Good luck! ♪]
"I hate this world," I announced to the empty kitchen.
The dishes said nothing.
I got to work.