As soon as my eyelids flit open, I’m greeted by a ceiling painted in quiet hues. Despite this, the interior design screams two adjectives: high class and expensive.
Where am I?
This ceiling is unfamiliar. It is obvious that this isn’t my room. The scent circulating through the air is soft and pleasant like a flower.
My eyes tear up from the brightness. Is it morning? Or, is the day nearing noon?
When I roll over, I see a window to my side. The curtains are half drawn. Through the window’s gap a refreshing breeze wheedles its way over, caressing my cheeks in a gentle embrace.
I rub my eyes. And then, I freeze.
The hand in view is surprisingly thin and pale. And small.
What is this? What is this what is this what is this?!
My short, oh-so-stubby arms are in the the way. Anyone can see with one look that these belong to a child. Though not as tiny as a baby’s, the hand is tiny. It’s about one third the size of my original. Maybe it belongs to a ten-year-old. It’s the size of a brat’s, some sparkly first grader in primary school. Not to mention, the skin color is a pale white.
Such a shade is similar to a westerner’s.
I leap in the air. My heart is pounding, going overdrive. Breathing becomes difficult.
“What is this… What the fuck?!”
Without thinking, I grasp my throat with both hands. The voice that escapes my lips is high-pitched as well. More specifically, it’s a child’s squeaky voice.
My throat is slender. Freaked out, I scan the surrounding area.
The room is about four times the size of my own. Hugging the wall are two bookcases spilling with books. There’s a shiny and polished desk; its streamlined feet give off a premium feel. There’s also a leather shawl bag, its size obviously meant for children. A large, no, humongous closet. A landscape painting with a high-class frame.
On top of a table is a vase fit with flowers. Those also appear expensive. The whole image seems like a luxurious European room.
This is not my room.
Where is this place? It looks like I’ve been in bed for while.
The pajamas on my body feel light and smooth. For some reason, they feel silky. Isn’t this real silk? Are you serious?! I’ll be in trouble if I tear it. It’ll be bad if the clothes get dirty. What should I do if it’s too expensive for me to compensate?
I try climbing down the bed, paying close attention not to ruin such wallet-breaking pajamas.
There are slippers prepared. These are also meant for a small child. And they fit my feet well.
I have a terrible premonition, acute and staggering. There’s a full-length mirror on the wall by the closet. Swallowing, I spring up and head for the mirror. A piece of cloth drapes over the surface. I stand before it.
While holding down my heart, which is about to leap out of my chest, I grasp the edge of the cloth, dragging it down.
There. A young boy stands before me.
He has slightly wavy and silver hair. His eyes are ice blue, skin the palest shade of white with freckles scattered freely. His cheeks are rounded like a kid’s and his limbs are thin. His silvery lashes are long for a boy’s.
The ends of his eyebrows and the corners of his eyes give off a slightly brazen aura, quirking upward.
He’s not Japanese; he’s a foreigner’s kid. His expression turns awfully pale.
“W-who is this…?”
This isn’t me. Why did I become a brat? And a foreigner’s, no less.
Someone knocks on the door, causing me to jump.
“Young master? Have you gotten up yet?”
After my reply, the door swings open and a pretty woman wearing a maid uniform enters the room.
“Oh dear. You will catch a cold with so little on. Please change clothes quickly or you will be late for school.”
I’m in university. Shouldn’t I be free from primary education already? I mean, I should be job-hunting now.
“That is right. Oh dear. Are you still sleeping? Perhaps you are in a mood but… Young master, are you alright?”
“Is that so? I wonder… Shall I help you change your clothes?”
“N-no! I’m good! I can do it myself!”
Hanging from the wall are jackets, trousers, blazers, blouses, and bow ties, all suspended on hangers. They’re meant for kids. Can I change over there?
“Is that so? Then I will inform the masters that you have woken up, young master Lian.” The maid bows with a smile, leaving the room.
Y-young master Lian?! She said Lian just now!
The name seems oddly familiar. That’s right. That’s it.
The second son of the richest lord in the village should have such a name.
Why is it Lian? What is this Lian?
My name is Osaka Nao! It’s not Lian! This really is the starting village! Seriously!
“G-goddess? Hey, come on wait! I’ve never heard any of this!” I shout to the sky. “This is impossible! I can’t do this! Send me back to my original world! I told you I’d help if it’s something I can do, but this is absurd! The task is way too hard. Make it easier!”
The room falls silent. The voice of a songbird.
No matter how long I wait, I don’t receive a response. How terrible.
“H-how can I… c-calm down. That’s right, clothes. For now, I need to d-dress up…”
These pajamas make me restless. I prefer cheap, ordinary ones made of cotton. Even when they wear down or get dirty, they’re easier to change out of. I’m afraid of wearing the ones made of silk. I feel like people will become furious if I soil them…
With trembling hands, I retrieve a set of clothes from the hangers.
Who is Lian? What does he do?
He’s the second son of the richest lord in the village.
That’s it! That!
He’s the leader of the three bullies who tyrannizes the Hero. He meddles with the Hero, a boy who has no relatives and lives in small orphanage.
Even as a child, the Hero’s specs are out of this world. His intelligence and physical prowess are off the charts. This displeases Lian, causing him to torment the other. He is a child full of jealousy.
He’s basically a plot device that, by having the Hero face him, helps the Hero grow. This character’s role is necessary in order to add color to a dramatic coming-of-age tale.
Although Lian is the first obstacle that the Hero encounters, he is also around for the shortest period of time. He’s no longer mentioned once the Hero leaves the village.
By the way, I couldn’t recall this guy’s name since it’s been so long. Despite not labeled as a rival technically, isn’t that what he is? Lian’s position is a weak one.
That I can remember. I recognize this. But, why?
Why am I in this role?
I have to live as Lian? You can’t be serious!
Am capable of doing something like this?
I’m not trying to brag, but I suck at acting. Back when I helped my friend in the theater club, I was thrown out! They told me my talent was in the negatives. Hearing that was crushing! I mean, goddess, is my explanation not enough?
I am definitely not worthy, you know? Throwing me this task won’t do anyone good. No way. Absolutely not.
These child-sized clothes fit me to a T. I’m so depressed. How do I tie a bow tie? I’ve never done it before. I wonder if a butterfly knot is good enough.
There are shoes aligned neatly and placed on a tray. Each pair shines bright like diamonds, the polish applied perfectly. They’re all made of leather. Wow, so high class.
How much do these shoes cost? I’m scared of putting them on. Again, I’ll have to be careful not to dirty them.
I recall one thing. And then the blood is drawn back from my face.
Here is the starting village. The starting village is here. This is the case. This is really the case!
My body trembles.
This is bad. This is really bad.
The village is no good. I can’t stay here. It’s too dangerous.
Though I want to escape, though I have every urge to run away, I cannot.
It’s impossible now.
This is the starting village.
Once the Hero celebrates his eighteenth birthday, the country with the most ambition out of the three will summon the demon king. After receiving the charms of the demon king, magical beasts from all around storm the village.
And this place will be destroyed.
Lian also loses his life to that tragic event. Because of this, Lian’s role in the story is tied to the starting village.
This event will be known as the Disaster of Leis Village. Later, this story will be told by the minstrels.
That’s right. Since Lian is practically an eternal mob existence, the treatment is suitable.
Somehow, I feel like I am stumbling through the streets.
In the game, his only dialogue consists of a variation of “somehow, the monsters are attacking.” If you attempt to speak with him again, you’re given a “…” that signifies he has died.
His death is very, very easy to provoke.
I’m not joking.
Death, to endure death, huh?
I don’t want to be killed. I don’t want to feel pain.
I don’t understand the reason I’ve been thrown into this world. It’s bad for the goddess but I’ve got to do what I think is best.
Here is the starting village. I am Lian.
I see. I understand my role and the tasks that the goddess bestowed upon me. However, I rather not understand it.
My job is to guide the main character—who will soon become the Hero—during his time in the first village, so that he will mature. Lian’s purpose, as written, is to nurture the Hero through his childhood.
In the future, the Hero will be able to steamroll his enemies during his journey.
Isn’t that right, Goddess?
I want you to return here and explain everything to me. I’m begging you. I know what must be done, but not how.
Anyway, I must survive that disastrous night. I don’t want to be killed by magical beasts. Too scary. No way.
If I die in this world, what happens then?
Perhaps I’ll return to my own world? Please, let that be it. I’m begging you.
Because if that is not so, then what is? What will happen?
Yet, for some reason that goddess was vague when talking about this subject… I’m anxious to know the truth.
For now, let’s organize my thoughts.
First, I refuse to be slayed by demonic beasts.
Also, I don’t want to see the villagers killed in front of me. Even in the game, the event was too disturbing and hard for me to swallow. Corpses and blood spatter were scattered throughout the village. I don’t want to experience such a heavy scene for real.
All I know is that the future must be changed.
I am aware how this influence will unravel. I don’t want to die.
That’s right. For now, I’ll do what I’m able to bit by bit. There’s no way I can accomplish everything at once, since currently I’m still a brat.
It’s fine to take it step by step. Day by day.
There’s still plenty of time. That’s right, the main character! What will the future Hero do?
Heroes are no good unless raised properly. Otherwise, there will be no one to defeat the demon king.
Besides, after the future Hero is trained and disciplined, he’ll become strong and crush the crowds of monsters charging the village. And he’ll rescue everyone.
It’s wishful thinking, but it’s better than nothing.
Alright. I’ve decided. Or rather, I’m compelled to accomplish this. There is no other choice.
Before the main character reaches his eighteenth birthday, I will nurture him and his strength.
Alright, here’s chapter 1 of NHAD. It’s 2k words and to be honest, I think this protagonist has too many internal monologues. Also, as mentioned before, here is the link to Violant of the Silver‘s prologue. It’s really interesting. I’m totally digging it.
I love how in all my projects, the protagonist transmigrates/reincarnates into the villain character XD. It’s practically a staple in my type of projects now hehe.
Thanks a bunch Nome for fixing that line for me!
As always, if you enjoyed this chapter, please leave a like or a comment below, and rate/review this novel on NU if you can!
You can also donate to my tea fund wink wink.