Adventurer's Guild.

  Joe, who had read many light novels in his previous life, especially those filled with magic and main characters being transported to other worlds, had come across the term countless times. His favorite story was one that focused heavily on adventurers. Forming parties, raiding dungeons, and claiming loot were all concepts he knew by heart.

  The fact that Jenny mentioned one of the most popular tropes in Joe’s favorite genre made it one hundred percent certain that this was another magical world, possibly even one inspired by the books he had read before his death.

  The whole situation made Joe think of his favorite subgenre in web novels, the stories where the main character died and was reborn or transported into one of their favorite books.

  In those series, you followed the main character as they experienced the events of the novel they already read. They used their knowledge of the plot to survive and grow stronger. There were usually small twists that the main character did not expect, but the overall storyline stayed mostly the same.

  The curveballs the author threw at them served only to make the main character an unreliable narrator and to keep the story exciting, while still showing their cleverness and ability to stay ahead. That kind of writing was exactly what Joe lived for. He was addicted to watching the protagonist handle unexpected situations.

  Now Joe could not help but wonder if he was in the same position as those main characters. Was he inside a novel he had read, or was this a completely separate world? Since he didn't recognize anything that had transpired so far, he leaned toward the latter.

  If the former were true, that would make Joe the main character. The idea alone was enough to make him scoff.

  Someone like him could never be the protagonist.

  "Adventurer's Guild?" Joe finally asked after staying silent longer than he intended, lost in thought.

  "You don't know what an Adventurer's Guild is?" Jenny asked, narrowing her eyes.

  "Oh, I know. I just didn't know there was one in this town," Joe answered truthfully.

  "It's on the other side of Suveny. I was sure you'd know, since you knew about Sophia."

  A bead of sweat formed on his forehead. "Oh, you mean that Guild," he said awkwardly. "I know where it is, but I'm not a registered member," he added, telling a half truth.

  "Why not? You seem old enough to be an Adventurer. Have you not Awakened yet?"

  Awakened.

  Joe knew that term too. In most books, depending on the magic system, it referred to those who had gained access to the powers of that world, usually mana, but sometimes it was unique talents, skills, classes or other magical abilities.

  "No…" Joe finally replied.

  He had not felt any different since waking up in this new world. If he had unlocked some kind of skill or power, he was sure he would have known. In stories, that came in the form of a system notification or a sudden realization. But he also knew every world worked differently, and since he had not tested anything yet, and was unsure of his status, the safest answer was no.

  "Strange," Jenny murmured, her expression thoughtful. "People usually know if they're Awakened by the age of nineteen at the latest. How old are you, Joe?"

  "Just turned nineteen recently," he said.

  "When was the last time you checked if you had Awakened? Usually people take a test at the Guild to check their status when they turn seventeen. If they haven't Awakened they're allowed to keep taking tests every three months to see if anything has changed.”

  "I think I took one early last year," Joe lied, keeping his face perfectly still.

  "That was quite a while ago," Jenny said. "If you're uncertain, you should take the test again. If it comes out negative at nineteen, then you have no magical talent."

  Joe felt his pulse quicken. In his past life, he had been a below average nobody. He was anxious to know if he could use mana or not. Joe didn't want to end up as a weakling who couldn't defend himself like in his previous life.

  "So I just head over to the Guild and request to take the test?" he asked.

  "Yes," Jenny replied. "There will be someone there who can help you."

  Joe nodded in understanding, then hesitated as another thought came to mind. "Wait, can't you sense if I'm Awakened?"

  In most novels he had read, characters always had abilities like [Mana Sense], [Magic Detection] [Magic Perception].

  Jenny shook her head. "Sorry. I'm an Unawakened, so I can't sense mana. I found out a few months ago that I have no magical talent.”

  She had a sad expression, and Joe immediately regretted asking.

  "Oh, I didn't know. I'm sorry to hear that," he said quietly.

  "It's fine," Jenny replied with a small, forced smile. "It's better this way. Being an Adventurer is not for everyone. Maybe the heavens decided I wasn’t suited for it and spared me from that life." There was a somber look in her eyes.

  Silence filled the room after that, heavy and awkward. Joe had read countless stories and devoured numerous sentences, yet no words came to him on how to comfort Jenny. Instead, he just kept packing his things into his pouch until the bag stopped working.

  "The sack must be full. You'll need more mana if you want to add more things," Jenny explained.

  "I think I have more than enough," Joe said, surprised that he still felt no weight from the pouch despite how much he had packed inside.

  Jenny nodded with a light smile. "Wanna go?"

  Joe gave a small nod and stepped out of the room. Jenny followed and closed the door behind them. As they descended the stairs, Joe said, "I won't forget your kindness, Jenny. Thank you for everything." His voice carried genuine warmth.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  "It was a pleasure to meet you, Joe," Jenny said softly.

  "Hey," Joe spoke again, glancing at her. "I know I'm just a customer, but can we be friends?" He managed to look her in the eyes this time.

  "Yes, I'd like that," Jenny said, her smile bright and sincere.

  Seeing that expression made Joe glad. He could tell she was not as sad as she had been a few minutes earlier.

  When they reached the bottom floor, Joe began walking toward the exit, his next stop being the Adventurer's Guild.

  He did not get far before a bald man with a goatee stepped in front of him. "Hey, man! It's been a while!" the man said loudly, grinning as he approached.

  Once he reached Joe, he slung an arm around his shoulder and whispered into his ear.

  "I have a fire affinity. I can burn you to a crisp right now before anyone even moves. Hand over that bottle with the coins, and no one gets hurt," the man said in a deep, cold voice.

  Joe froze. His heart pounding violently. His head dropped, and his lips trembled as he said, "Ok…"

  He reached into his pouch and handed over the bottle without resistance.

  The man grinned and turned to the crowd. "Hey, my friend just gave me some coins. Drinks are on me, boys!"

  The tavern erupted with cheers and applause.

  "Hey, wait! That's not yours!" Jenny shouted, her voice cutting through the noise. "Those coins belong to Joe. Give them back right now!" Her expression was fierce.

  Joe’s eyes widened. His heart fluttered with shock. She was standing up for him against someone Awakened? Was she insane?

  "You seem to be mistaken, Jenny," the man said smoothly. "My friend here gave me these coins from the goodness of his heart. Isn’t that right?"

  He turned to Joe and gave him the coldest look imaginable. The sharpness of it made Joe flinch.

  Joe dropped his gaze and muttered, "That’s right, Jenny. I gave them to him myself."

  "See?" the man said with a mocking smile. "Sometimes you should learn to mind your own business, Jenny."

  Joe turned away and walked toward the exit, head hanging low. Jenny watched him go, sadness softening her eyes. "Joe…" she whispered.

  He found an alley not far from the tavern, swallowed in shadow. Once he stepped into it, the dam broke. Joe let the tears fall freely as he clenched his teeth and cried in frustration. He had sacrificed his dignity for those coins, and now they were gone just like that.

  He kicked the wall beside him and screamed, his voice echoing through the narrow space.

  What hurt most was not losing the money, but the fact that it had been taken so easily while he did nothing to stop it.

  Joe was reminded, bitterly, that being in another world changed nothing. He was still the same timid, cowardly man he had always been. People did not change overnight.

  A weakling was still a weakling, even in this new world, he was still at the very bottom ladder.

  Joe let his back slide down the wall until he plopped to the ground. His knees were drawn up, and he buried his face in his arms, which rested on top of them. His position was not too different from that of a child who did not want to be seen crying. In fact, it was exactly the same, because Joe was also bawling his eyes out at that very moment. He managed to keep quiet, letting his tears fall without making a sound.

  This was the most pathetic he had felt in a while, and it brought back memories he had tried his hardest to bury.

  Growing up, Joe was always the odd one out. When other kids played tag on the playground, he would sit in the corner drawing comic book characters in the sand. He never felt like he fit in. That feeling was only deepened by how he dressed. While most boys wore bright colors, he preferred black. It was the color that made him feel comfortable, the shade that gave him confidence. His favorite comic book hero also wore black, which made him love it even more.

  Unfortunately for Joe, his tendency to isolate himself brought a host of problems, the worst of which was bullying. Many kids threw stones at him and called him a freak or a weirdo because of his dark clothes and cold personality. He suffered from anxiety when talking to others, often stumbling over his words or saying things that came across as rude or insensitive. Even his parents complained about it at times.

  The kids who did not throw things at him used their words instead, and those who did not rely on violence or insults simply avoided him altogether.

  Joe had been tall for his age. He had the height of a sixth grader even though he was only in third grade. That gave him a sense of confidence in his ability to fight. He was not afraid of those who mocked him. He knew that if he ever got into a real fight with them, he would win.

  One day in fourth grade, a boy was making fun of him as usual. Joe endured it quietly, absorbing every word like a sponge. But when the insults turned toward his parents, something inside him snapped. The boy went too far, using cruel words Joe had only heard adults use. A switch flipped in Joe’s mind, and he lost control of himself.

  He overpowered the boy with ease, pinned him to the ground, and pummeled him until the teacher had to pull him away with all their strength. The fight had lasted only seconds, but Joe had beaten the boy so badly that his face was barely recognizable. As Joe stared at his bloodstained hands and the unconscious body lying in a pool of red, a smile formed on his face, and a strange feeling surged in his heart.

  Pure joy.

  In that moment, Joe could say he was truly happy.

  The boy, whom Joe had not even known, was rushed to the hospital but survived. Joe was suspended from school for three months. He always thought the punishment was lenient and knew his parents had to be behind it. They were not rich, but they were influential enough to convince the principal not to expel him. They also promised the boy’s mother that they would pay for all medical expenses, which they did.

  Joe was grounded for a year. His parents scolded him at every opportunity. Though they said they were disappointed, what stood out most to Joe was how they spoke about the incident. They acted like they were the victims. They complained about how his actions had damaged their reputation and embarrassed them in front of the community. The boy who was beaten within an inch of his life, was almost an afterthought to them.

  Joe knew they were not bad people, but after that incident, he saw a side of them he never wanted to see again. He apologized countless times until they finally forgave him, though it took a long while before they truly did.

  After seeing how serious the consequences of his first fight were, Joe promised himself that he would never raise his fists against another person again. That promise carried him through to sixth grade without further trouble. The other kids feared him for what he had done, which killed any chances of starting brawls, but it also left him unable to make friends.

  When he entered middle school, his parents decided to move, mostly because of how the neighborhood treated them after the incident. They told Joe it was due to problems with the house, but he knew the truth.

  Life at his new school started easy, but some classmates soon realized that Joe would not fight back no matter what they did. Since they did not know his history, they had no problem targeting him. He tried to scare them off with his words and blank expressions, but once they realized he would never throw a punch, they made him their favorite victim.

  They stole his lunch and beat him whenever they felt like it. No one stood up for him and reporting the bullies did not help. His parents only blamed him, calling him a troublemaker and saying he must have provoked the fights.

  This went on for a years. Joe kept suppressing the urge to fight back again and again until the desire itself faded. His parents’ deaths in a car accident broke him even more. By the time he entered high school, Joe was a shadow of his eleven-year-old self. He had no fight left in him. The anger he once carried was gone, replaced by fear and submission. He had suppressed himself for so long that he began to believe he was inferior to everyone around him. As a result, he was taken advantage of both at school and at home by his uncle.

  Even though he didn't know it at the time, Joe was lucky to meet a girl who showed genuine interest in him during high school. Her kindness and encouragement were among the few things that kept him going, along with the novels he read night after night to escape his harsh reality.

  By the time he died, Joe had dulled himself so much that there was barely any fighting spirit left in him. But just before he lost consciousness when the truck hit him, a thought had crossed his mind.

  Now, as he lifted his head, Joe was no longer crying. His eyes were dry, his fists clenched, and his expression resolute.

  ‘

  As Joe reconnected with his true self, his gaze flickered for a brief moment, flashing a sharp hue of silver.

  A new monster was about to be born.