And, My First Words...
When I opened my eyes in this world, my first thought was that I had probably been reincarnated.
A chill ran down my spine when I realized it. And for another reason, too. If I could still remember I was reincarnated, I'd likely be forced into being the main character. And it would be such a pain!
I mean, me, a person who craved a life lived solely within four walls, who prayed daily for some miracle to descend so that humanity could live just by breathing. So that there would be no need to eat, no need to socialize, because every time I stepped out into the world, I felt like I was suffocating. Even though no one ever paid any attention to me.
A person like that would be, of course, terrified of the prospect of having to be the main character.
It was only after I was stabbed in the chest twice, had my skull pierced by an arrow once, and had my head split in two by an axe three more times – only to open my eyes and find myself still existing in this new world – that I realized I was just a lowly side character on the villain's side.
As I breathed a sigh of relief at not having to be the main character, I came to another realization, one that troubled me infinitely more.
I cannot die.
Every time I kick the bucket, another version of me revives. Because I am a side character of a side character, some nameless monster in the eyes of this world's righteous heroes, they never realize I'm the same thing they've already wiped out. To them, my existence is probably like the monsters in a video game – the kind of minions that, after you kill them for a while, a new wave just spawns.
...
I am a minor side character on the villain's team, dying and reviving all day long. For what purpose? To witness the main characters act all cool and be cutesy with each other.
...
Someone please juststrangle me and don't let me come back to life again, for crying out loud!
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