Chương 4: Isekai, Yes. Hero, to Be Determined.

Hero, to Be Determined.

I woke with a splitting headache. Now this was a hangover, unlike how I'd woken up in the ditch the day before. The wine that Wynnie had served us was exceptionally cheap. It was sweet, which meant somebody probably added sugar, and it knocked me on my ass, which meant it was probably fortified with brandy. I couldn't decide if I wanted to vomit, sleep in, or simply lie in bed groaning until my pounding headache disappeared. So I split the difference and got up. That's when it hit me.

I was still in the musty, spartan bedroom that Wynnie dared to call inn lodging. I'd slept—soundly, at that—and woken again. Yet instead of being transported back into my world, I was still in this one. Maybe this wasn't just a dream. My heart sank until it felt like it would come out of my butt. Or maybe that was just more hangover. Fuzzy details about last night came back to me slowly, one bubbly pop at a time. Wynnie and I had stayed up late, drinking.

We finished off the bread quickly, struggled somewhat with the soup until midway through the second bottle, and then finally began packing it away. By that point, the conversation was flowing, and one of us suggested a third bottle. Knowing myself, it was probably me. Yet also knowing Wynnie for a couple of hours, it wouldn't surprise me if it was actually her. The girl had a wild streak. We made a dangerous pairing, to be sure. She'd asked me about myself.

I'd mentioned a few vague things, leaning heavily on my fantasy game references. If I didn't sound legit, she didn't call me out on it. I'd asked her a bit about the inn. I didn't remember exactly what she said. At the time, I was incredibly drunk, and my memory was never all that great to begin with. But there was something about most of her family, including aunts and uncles, all perishing tragically at sea. The only one who survived was her cousin, but she didn't "claim her as kin."

Sadly, most of the inheritance went to that cousin. All that went to Wynnie was this ramshackle old inn. From what I could remember, it was just about the only thing she had left in this world. The whole time she told me her history, I kept thinking that it was an exquisitely crafted tragic backstory. Her background was exactly the sort of thing that Dan, our DM, would have loved to cook up to tug at our heartstrings. It worked, of course.

At one point, I remember declaring that I would happily give her every last coin I had, and that I would make sure it all went to her, even if I disappeared abruptly. I patted my pocket to see if my coins were still there. They weren't. That's when more came back to me. After she went off to bed, I'd stumbled back out to the main room in the middle of the night and left all of my change on the front counter.

I was convinced that I was going to wake up back in my world, and I wanted to make sure that she got all the coins I'd promised her. It was like, a few quarters, some nickels, and maybe a dime or two. Not only were they nearly worthless on Earth, but they'd be even less valuable here. The sinking feeling in my gut got lower. I prayed that this wasn't just some kind of exceptional dyspepsia. Wiping away a cold sweat, I staggered out of my room and into the front area.

There, in the cold, open room, still smelling of heavy smoke and last night's stew and stale wine, stood Wynnie. She was picking through the pile of change I'd left on the counter, organizing them by color and size. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. She did not look happy.

"What in the flippin' hayride are these?" she demanded. I burped, then blinked away the sting. She waited, tapping her foot aggressively. Apparently, she was handling the effects of last night's wine far better than I was. In my defense, I'd been cutting down recently, and it looked like she had a bit of experience with the stuff. Yet also, damn. Homegirl could handle her sauce.

"I can explain," I said, beginning to panic.

"Are you a swindler? A con man? Do you enjoy taking advantage of poor, unfortunate young elves with nothing but a crummy ol' inn to their name?"

"No, none of that."

"I have half a mind to call Lady Talia right now. She'll be here faster than you can blink. You'll spend your next night in a cell!" I paused and furrowed my brow. How exactly was she planning to call Lady Talia? Did they have some kind of old-timey phones hidden somewhere around here? I looked around for a wall-mounted rotary dial. Wynnie's hand rose overhead and grasped a rope hanging from the center of a large copper bell. How had I not noticed that before?

It looked big enough to make quite a ruckus, and I didn't doubt that it could, in fact, ring loud enough to summon the law if necessary.

"Well? What's your explanation?"

"That's legal tender where I come from," I said lamely.

"It's what?"

"It's fiat currency. Backed by gold in the US Treasury. See that one? That's worth a quarter."

"What? A quarter!?"

"Yeah. A quarter of a dollar. A US dollar, that is."

"What in the absolute—" She caught herself, flushing.

"What's a US dollar? And what do you mean backed by gold? I don't see any gold on the backs of these!" I rubbed my chin thoughtfully. Money. I should've known this was going to be an issue. In fact, I was pretty certain it would be, right up until the point where I started drinking heavily. That was when all logic went out the window. Add one more reason to the pile of why I'd been trying to drink less. If I wanted to stay sharp, I needed to stay sober.

"Shit. So, I'm pretty sure I'm from another world," I said.

"Oh yeah? You're claiming you're one of the Reborn? Like I haven't heard that one before." Now that sounded interesting to me. I dug in to learn more.

"Sorry, but what's a Reborn?"

"Spare me."

"No, seriously. I'm from another world. At least, I think I am. I have no idea what a Reborn is. If someone back where I'm from said they were reborn, I'd just assume that they were a recent convert of one of our world's dominant religions." She screwed up her face.

"That's ridiculous. That doesn't even make any sense."

"I'm inclined to agree. But I'm sure if you got deep into their scripture, it would make plenty of sense," I said, guessing that it was true. I'd grown up religious, but I hadn't been practicing as well as I maybe should have. I still tried to do my best, but my best had been pretty shoddy for a few years. Oh. Born again. That's what I was thinking of. She scrutinized me for several agonizing seconds before adopting a measured tone.

"Only nitwits and true Reborn don't know what Reborn are. So, just in case you're an actual nitwit, I'll tell you. Reborn souls refer to those that have experienced transmigration."

"Now that's a five-dollar word," I muttered.

"How much gold is five dollars' worth?"

"Um, good question." She crossed her arms and waited. I waited too, wondering if I had anything useful to add. I didn't. She continued.

"Transmigration is when someone dies in their world and gets reborn in ours. It's exceptionally rare. Only heavy interference by the Fates and a bit of magic can make it happen. There are fewer than a dozen known instances of it ever happening." For some reason, that hit me. Hard. In my heart, it felt uncomfortably familiar.

"Oh."

"What?"

"Did you say when someone dies?"

"How else would a soul cross the ether?" As if I knew the answer to that one. She'd stumped me with the question about how much gold five bucks was worth. I could hardly be expected to wax philosophical about transporting souls into different worlds. Things were starting to make sense in the same way that string theory made sense. Which is to say, they weren't making sense, but I worried I'd have to forget everything I thought I knew. Still, I was handling this Earth-shattering revelation pretty well, I thought.

Maybe I was still drunk. Maybe that's why everything felt all airy and distant.

"I think I need to sit down," I said, growing suddenly faint. Everything around me got all woozy. Darkness rimmed my vision, like being sent into an existential tunnel. How much damage could eight six-sided dice do? I groped for the nearby wall to steady myself and then began to lower myself to the floor. Yet I grew fainter with each passing instant, and all the bad feelings from the hangover came rushing at me at once. Struggling to retain consciousness, I lowered myself faster. Too fast. Like, falling faster.

At the same time, I threw up. And when my ass hit the ground, I farted. Unfortunately, none of that made me feel any better. Then, just to tie a bow on the whole thing, I passed out.