Chapter 1: Life Is a Game of Luck

Maybe there was no malice or kindness behind what happened. Nothing good, nothing bad. No cause. No reason. Just pure coincidence. Simply terrible luck. That was all. And with only that, my smooth, comfortable life completely collapsed.

I never had a girlfriend or anything romantic, but I had more than a few friends, and a family I could honestly call fortunate. My part-time job was what you’d definitely call a “white” workplace. I was never financially troubled—in fact, I’d say I had it pretty good.

As for my studies—yes, I worked hard, but even so, I was able to attend a fairly reputable cram school, earned solid grades, and got accepted into a respectable university.

My health gave me nothing to complain about. I wasn’t sickly—if anything, I was proud of how rarely I caught anything. My physique wasn’t bad either. Decent muscle, decent height. And my face—well, I’ll admit it—wasn’t bad.

I wasn’t top-tier, but at least solidly middle-class. Maybe even upper-middle to lower-high. That’s what my life was supposed to be.

Really… I probably just had terrible luck. Acceptance? Impossible. I don’t even know the cause. It would’ve been easier if there had been some “mastermind” or “god” responsible—something I could point to and say, “That’s why.” Then at least I could understand. But there was nothing. No matter how hard I looked, nothing was there. It just happened. That was the only reality.

"Move it already, brat! You got a death wish!?"
"Mngh…! I–I can’t…!"
"You can’t run because you won’t shut your damn mouth! Quiet and move!"

I had fallen who-knows-how-many times, covered head to toe in mud, yet I kept running, legs trembling, trying to escape the barking orders and the bullets flying past me. My seniors and same-year trainees—close enough in age to feel like peers—had already finished their quota and were cheering me on from the side. Even that irritated me, which only made me hate myself more for being so twisted.

Fuyuhi Kou.
That’s my name in this world. Such a bright, cheerful name—far too unfitting for the warped person I’ve become.

Long story short, I’m probably what you’d call a “reincarnated person.” My previous life was as smooth-sailing as described earlier, and then suddenly, without any warning, I woke up in this world.

At first, I was confused. My gender, height, age, name—everything had changed. Even common sense had changed. Children, myself included, had floating halo-like rings above their heads, and there were robots calling themselves adults, bipedal animals, kids treating firearms like toys—it was all nonsense. Of course I suspected it was a dream.

It was stupid, ridiculous, unreal. I didn’t want to accept it as reality. But slowly, I had to. And I eventually realized I could never go back to those days.

Everything I had built over eighteen years—yes, eighteen years—crumbled in an instant.

Sadness. Anger. Feelings far beyond those words overwhelmed me until my heart felt shredded.

But before long, I didn’t even have the luxury to dwell on any of that.

I was conscripted. Something unfamiliar to me in my previous life. Apparently this world—no, this academy—was in the middle of a civil war, and since I was old enough to be considered usable manpower, I was forcibly drafted.

Harsh training, interacting with people with wildly different mental ages. Even just living in this unfamiliar body was already hard—but those days were nothing short of hell. Still, maybe it wasn’t all bad. If I’d stayed in that initial despair, I probably would’ve ended up hanging myself.

"You maggot! You’re giving up already!? Why are you even here!?"
"It’s n-not… like I wanted… to be here…!"
"Don’t you dare talk back!"
"—!"

Not that I’ll ever thank them for anything.

"Good work."
"…Thanks."

I chugged the cold water a fellow trainee tossed to me. The piercing chill rushed down my parched throat. That sensation reminded me I was alive, reaffirming that this was all real—and I… no, never mind. I’ve already moved beyond the stage of sinking into depression. Or more accurately, I simply no longer have the time or emotional space for it.

gulp, gulp, gulp

Water is soooo goooooood!!!!

The more the water slid down my throat, the more alive I felt. It seeped into my dried-out, exhausted body. I’m alive. I’m alive! Hell yeah! Gimme more waterrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!

…My apologies. I lost my composure for a moment.

Anyway, even someone as unbearably unlucky as me is apparently still considered “lucky” by this world’s standards. In this academy—called Arius, apparently—most children can’t even get a job, have no adults to rely on, and suffer from hunger. That’s not just a rumor; I’ve seen plenty of them with my own eyes. As someone with Japanese sensibilities, abandoning them feels painful… but I simply don’t have the capacity to help. With only the rations we’re given, there’s no way to feed the hundreds of orphans here. And besides—I’m a kid myself. I’m not even sure you could call me a “student” at my current age. There’s just no room for charity.

But above all, the luckiest thing about my situation is my assigned unit.

As I mentioned earlier, Arius is in the middle of a civil war. As a low-ranking grunt and disposable pawn, I have no way of knowing the cause of this conflict—nor do I care. It doesn’t matter.

What matters is whether I can survive this civil war… no, in this world, getting shot seems to only cause injuries rather than death, so the risk isn’t as high as it was in my previous life.

Meaning—the real question is how much I can slack off, stay safe, rise in rank, and secure a stable lifestyle.

And my assigned position is the so-called Reserve Corps. We’re deployed to the front lines only when absolutely necessary, but usually we stay well behind the battlefield. In other words, as long as the properly trained frontliners—who are tough enough that they rarely even get injured—remain usable, we never have to go anywhere near danger. And even without real combat, we get food just by participating in training.

Overpowered! An overpowered, absurdly advantageous unit!

Of course, since we don’t go to the front, it’s hard to earn any achievements. But there’s no point aiming for an elite career path if I die first. The civil war won’t last forever. So I’ll study in the safety of the rear, and once the war is over, I’ll get myself a proper job. I won’t dream about becoming elite or living in luxury afterward. No—I’ll build up knowledge, stockpile valuable goods like food, and gather comrades who can become allies or pawns. I’ll walk the safe path and secure a moderately comfortable life. That’s my method. I know for a fact it’s the right answer.

…Naturally, I’m assuming “being suddenly flung into another world” won’t happen again.

"Fu… fuhihi…"

Perfect! Too perfect! God hasn’t abandoned me after all! I do have luck! With enough effort, I have just enough “luck” to live a normal life! Whether this was transfer or reincarnation or whatever, I’m sure all the unreasonable misfortune I suffered is going to pay me back! Not that I’ll get greedy. “Moderate” is fine. “Moderate” is ideal. Normality is supreme!

"You maggots! Break time is over! Line up already!"

I crushed the empty plastic bottle in my hand and turned toward the source of the shouting. It’s fine. That arrogant attitude. I’ll accept it as a necessary expense on my path to acquiring a “normal” life.

"Rejoice, worms! I’ve brought good news for you today! Open your damn ears and listen well!"

Because I am magnanimous. And therefore, fortune favors me. I have luck on my side.

"You lot will now be deployed to the front lines to fill the holes left by those idiots who screwed up out there! Even maggots can prove they’re useful! That is all!"

…Retraction. I apparently do not have luck after all.