Chapter 2: Dragged Down from the Throne

“Coward.”

Three seasons had passed since Sirin fell into this other world.

Roughly six months, by her reckoning.

And finally, she had properly pronounced the first word she intended.

Damn it, it was more absurd than moving.

The memory of the root of this shitty situation surfaced.

This was definitely the game Sirin had bought, Empire’s Fall: Chronicle.

…Probably.

Empire’s Fall or Empire’s Fckery or something.

The game’s name wasn’t clear in her memory.

Six months had passed since her brain injury.

Remembering the name of a game she hadn’t even played would be a miracle.

That thought gave Sirin a headache.

Am I a real person, or just a game character that somehow gained self-awareness?

With a man’s memories in a woman’s body, am I a man or a woman?

Is this even reality to begin with?

The answer to Sirin’s confusion was simple.

She was just a lunatic.

A madwoman in a medieval fantasy land, dreaming a long, strange dream.

Like a crazy butterfly dreaming it’s Zhuangzi.

“Cut the crap.”

Sirin no longer cared about such confusion.

She’d already wrestled with it for six months and found her answer long ago.

She had to solve more practical, tangible problems.

The sense of loss from lacking what should be in her lower half.

Next to her inability to speak properly, or perhaps even worse, it was a shitty issue.

Sirin didn’t dwell on it long.

She was in a shitty situation, and overcoming it was what mattered.

Adapting well anywhere was one of Sirin’s few strengths.

Her intelligence wasn’t low, but her knowledge and thoughts were short.

Sirin glanced at the system window.

[! Coward’s Haven Mode for Super Cowards !]

She let out a hollow laugh.

Wasn’t the naming practically mocking her?

Well, she chose Coward Mode, so there was no one to blame.

Coward Mode came with difficulty options befitting its name.

The biggest among them was, of course:

[HP Auto-Recovery Function Active. HP will not fall below 1.]

Even if HP hit 1, it wouldn’t drop further. No matter what, she wouldn’t die.

The so-called immortality mode.

[↑ 500% Experience Gain ↑]

And true to Coward Mode, the experience boost was insane.

But what stood out most was something else.

[DLC – Using Martial Arts in Fantasy Land (Tentative Title) Applied.]

[Master martial arts through insight and practice!]

Sirin sighed.

She had no idea what that meant.

She didn’t know much about martial arts.

Her knowledge of it was limited to skimming Wikipedia.

As far as she knew, martial arts involved learning from big clans like Huashan or Namgung, or eating something nutritious like a carp.

Or falling off a cliff.

From that perspective, Sirin had met one prerequisite for acquiring martial arts.

“Well, I did fall off a cliff as soon as I got here.”

The system’s words weren’t exactly encouraging, but Sirin was in a good mood.

Just being able to speak properly gave her immense satisfaction.

And regaining her speech was a small but significant first step toward her goal.

Sirin’s ultimate objectives:

First, become a man again. Second, return home.

Over the past six months, she’d roughly planned what to do after regaining her speech.

Strictly speaking, her plan was a mental victory to avoid going mad or despairing, but not anymore.

It was now a tangible future.

This fantasy land was a world mixed with magic, divine blessings, mysteries, and all sorts of things.

If she used them…

“There’s definitely a way to become a man and go home.”

Head to the empire’s capital, where magic was advanced, achieve great deeds to earn a god’s blessing, or uncover some mystery.

“…”

But before that, she had something to do.

She had to repay the kindness of the old geezer from the Salvation Church and the bakery lady.

Sirin stood up from the stream and washed herself.

It had been a long time.

As the dirt and soot washed away, her true features emerged.

“…”

Sirin quietly looked at her reflection in the stream.

She didn’t know how to describe her face.

Truthfully, she didn’t care much.

She muttered.

“I hate The Little Prince.”

The Little Prince said numbers couldn’t capture essence, but Sirin disagreed. Sometimes, numbers were the best expression.

Her appearance could be simply quantified.

Charm: 180.

It meant all 100 rational people would find her attractive.

Her Charm of 180 even overflowed past 100.

Even 80 out of 100 same-sex individuals would feel sexual attraction to her.

It made sense.

Sirin was the type to put effort into character customization.

If she was going to stare at it the whole game, it had to be big-breasted, beautiful, with a mysterious Eastern beauty vibe.

Plus, due to some system correction, Sirin had no body odor.

No matter how much she rolled in mud, she only smelled of dirt.

Of course, it wasn’t all good.

Her Charm of 180 led to an attempted assault, which is why she tried so hard to “patch” her race.

After roughly drying off, Sirin put on her rags and headed to the village.

She didn’t want to smear mud on herself anymore.

But she also didn’t want trouble from her appearance.

So she covered her face with her tangled hair and tore open the bread sack from Marta to wear as a mask.

“This should keep it hidden.”

Her steps were lighter than ever.

The liberation of speaking properly made her mutter to herself, not caring who heard.

“Boring, rose, in the nostril. Happiness, burning, heretic sidekick.”

A few villagers passing by flinched and avoided her.

They whispered that the crazy beggar girl had started saying non-curses but sounded even crazier.

In truth, Sirin was choosing her words carefully.

Her habit of using her tangled language wiring could lead to slip-ups if she wasn’t cautious.

“Gotta be careful. I want to say ‘bstard,’ not ‘thank you.’”

Muttering cautiously, Sirin soon hummed as she entered the village.

She hadn’t realized how good it felt to speak freely.

Right now, she could even laugh off the taunts of those damn kids from earlier.

…Or so she thought, until one of those brats popped out from a corner and blocked her path.

The kid looked puzzled at Sirin’s changed face and makeshift mask, then smirked with his usual sneer.

“What’s this, btch! Crawling out again? What’s with today…”

Sirin’s brow twitched.

This damn kid.

Repeating the same pathetic curses, yet he’d been mocking her all this time.

She considered unleashing a civilized array of physical destruction on this little punk… but stopped.

Beating him up would be easy.

But Sirin had a much better idea.

“Hey. Hans.”

Calling his name softly, the kid flinched and stepped back.

“…Huh?”

Hans got goosebumps.

The crazy beggar girl was speaking properly, not cursing. And she knew his name!

In truth, Sirin knew not only Hans but quite a bit about the village.

It’s a well-known fact that beggars are quantum-like existences. Sirin was nowhere, yet everywhere.

It was part of her efforts to recover her speech. Listening to as many conversations as possible seemed helpful.

She didn’t just know village gossip.

She knew the names of the mercenary band causing trouble, and even the petty story of how Heres, the worst of them, had hit Mary at Wilson’s.

Unbeknownst to her, Sirin was already acting like a martial artist.

Her eavesdropping in a quantum state was a core skill of the Beggars’ Sect.

Taking advantage of Hans’s hesitation, Sirin slipped off her mask slightly.

Her true features peeked through her tangled hair, washed of dirt and soot.

Even half-hidden, it was enough.

“Uh… uh… huh?”

Hans’s eyes widened. He swallowed hard instinctively.

“Uh… uhh…?”

It was something Hans had never seen in his life.

It wasn’t just “pretty.”

It shone like moonlight in a foggy night, yet felt unreal.

The skin glimpsed through her messy hair was unnaturally white and smooth, her eyes sharp yet deep.

His mind scrambled.

The overwhelming alienness made him forget to breathe, sparking an inexplicable attraction.

His heart pounded oddly, his face flushed for no reason.

“Why?”

Sirin asked with a grin. A smile that would make all 100 men, including the gay ones, clutch their hearts.

“Uh, no… I mean…”

“No more ‘btch’?”

“Uh, uh… no, I mean…!”

The kid was at a loss.

Of course.

Sirin’s Charm was 180.

Exaggerating a bit, if born in Troy, she’d be Helen; in Shang Dynasty, she’d be Daji.

With a bit of makeup, she could ruin a kingdom.

Sirin narrowed her eyes and said.

“That thing in your hand. A rock, right? Weren’t you going to throw it at me?”

“No, no, I mean…!”

“Why not throw it? If you’re gonna, do it quick.”

Hans felt something strange.

Her voice was mocking yet soft.

Feeling like he’d committed a grave sin, Hans instinctively dropped the rock and bowed.

“S-Sorry…!”

Sirin cackled and put her mask back on.

She was about to head to Peter when… this damn kid started following her, hesitating.

Seeing this, Sirin came up with a plan on the spot.

Right, after all she’d suffered from this brat, she couldn’t just leave with kindness.

Sirin hated juvenile delinquents.

No matter how young, you pay for what you do. Especially if no one made you do it.

“Kindness repaid double, grudges… let’s say twentyfold.”

Unbeknownst to her, Sirin was very martial arts-friendly. Her vindictive nature was akin to the Tang Clan’s poison heart.

Glancing around as if checking something, Sirin crouched to Hans’s level.

Even with the mask, her beauty was palpable.

Lowering her voice softly to his eye level, Hans felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“Want to see me without the mask?”

Her words were like a spell, paralyzing Hans’s remaining rationality.

He wanted to see. What was behind that mask, if what he saw was real.

Blushing, Hans nodded like he was entranced.

Sirin gave a satisfied smile. That smile made Hans’s heart sink again.

She glanced behind him, but Hans didn’t know why.

Narrowing her eyes further, she whispered.

“Then… say I’m pretty just once. I’ll think about it.”

Her voice was sweet, but there was something chilling, like a snake’s hiss.

“…”

Hans, face red, followed her words. To a kid like him, Sirin’s provocative smile and soft voice were like a hypnosis app.

A part of his rationality screamed something was wrong, but all his senses were focused on the mask.

“…Sis… p-pretty…”

“Hm? Can’t hear you. What’d you say?”

Sirin tilted her head, asking again. Hans grew more desperate. Just a bit louder, and she might show him.

“Sis… you’re pretty…”

“Tch, that’s not enough. Doesn’t sound sincere. If you really want to see, louder. So I can hear.”

Sirin pressed with a slightly whiny yet firm tone.

The anticipation that she might remove the mask, and the anxiety of missing his chance, made Hans close his eyes and shout.

“Sis, you’re pretty! Really pretty!”

Sirin nodded, satisfied.

Hans, panting, looked at her with expectant eyes. She’d take off the mask now, right?

Instead, Sirin pointed behind him.

“Uh…?”

It was time for this delinquent to pay for his past misdeeds.