Bell Cranel—the "Little Rookie" currently setting the streets of Orario ablaze with gossip. To the common citizen, he's a miracle in white armor, a record-breaking prodigy rising through the ranks of the Hestia Familia. But to me? I knew exactly who he was long before the first whisper of his name reached the Pantheon.
I am a reincarnator. In a past life, I lived in a world of screens and convenience, where this reality was nothing more than a series titled Is It Wrong to Try to Pick Up Girls in a Dungeon? I came into this world with the ultimate parting gift: a "reincarnation cheat" granted by a god. It was a talent that should have made me a legend, a physical and magical aptitude comparable to the late "Silence" Alphia herself. I was, by every definition of the word, a "talent monster."
However, there is a fundamental difference between possessing power and possessing the soul of a warrior.
Swordplay, spear techniques, high-speed incantations—I could mimic and master them all with a grace that would make a Level 7 weep. But inside this vessel of genius lived the heart of a mediocre, shut-in otaku. When I finally stepped into the Dungeon's upper floors, the reality of it shattered me. The smell of damp moss and rotting monster flesh, the guttural snarls echoing in the dark—it was terrifying. I remember my first encounter with a group of Goblins; I won, of course, but only because my body moved with a refined, lethal instinct while I was screaming at the top of my lungs, my legs shaking in a pathetic, cowardly crouch.
To me, a genius's talent was nothing more than pearls before swine. I realized very quickly that I wasn't built for the "death-defying adventure" lifestyle. So, I did the only logical thing: I retired and went back to my roots.
In my previous life, I was a fairly prominent artist in the doujinshi circle scene. I spent my days drawing "thin books" for popular series and selling them at conventions. If I couldn't be the hero of this story, I could certainly be its most scandalous chronicler.
I spent every last Valis I earned from the magic stones of those poor, bullied Goblins on the most expensive vellum and imported inks Orario had to offer. My mission was clear: I was going to draw and sell adult manga featuring the world's favorite protagonist, Bell Cranel, as the centerpiece.
I titled the first volume The Night Rabbit's Fate to be Hunted. Since I lacked a formal stall, I set up a discreet operation in the shadowed corners of the Entertainment District, far from the watchful eyes of the Guild.
I didn't hold back on the variety, either. I released four distinct versions based on the women in Bell's life: Eina the Guild receptionist, the "Sword Princess" Aiz Wallenstein, his supporter Lili, and even that aloof waitress from the Hostess of Fertility, Lyu. I was worried that using such high-profile figures as models would cause a backlash, but I underestimated the thirst of the district. The quality of the art—bolstered by my "genius" precision—carried the day. Four hundred copies vanished in just two nights.
The crowd was a fascinating mix. About seventy percent were men looking for a thrill, but the remaining thirty percent were women. Even the seasoned "Berbera" of the Ishtar Familia and the local courtesans were captivated by the "Reverse-Hunted" dynamic. Seeing the innocent, pure-hearted Bell being absolutely overwhelmed by these powerful women was a hit I hadn't fully anticipated.
"Unbelievable... I made more in two nights of drawing than I did in a month of nearly dying to Goblins..."
As I sat in my small room, counting the mountain of Valis rolling in, I felt a sense of triumph I never achieved in the Dungeon. In this world, there are no copyright laws, no digital rights management, and apparently, a massive untapped market for smut. With my Alphia-tier talent being redirected into high-speed, high-fidelity manuscript production, my anxieties about food and rent vanished. I was on top of the world.
But I was a fool. I was so blinded by the easy money that I forgot the most basic rule of Orario: everything comes with a price. I had profited off the likenesses of some of the most powerful and influential people in the city.
In my arrogance, I never dreamed that the "Night Rabbit" would eventually lead to a judgment more terrifying than any monster in the Deep Floors.