It looked like I would be dying for the second time.

In the city of Treder, in a dirty, out-of-the-way alley, there were scraps of trash piled up along the grimy walls. Beneath one of these piles, a wet, stained, child's arm, with filthy black fingernails could be seen sticking out. 

This was Ben, AKA, me. Although in this world I was called something else. Unfortunately, the isekai package did not include the body's previous memories. I had been kicked out of the orphanage soon after the transmigration, accused of being a devil who had possessed whoever's body this had been. If the church had been able to prove I was a devil, I would already be dead. But it seemed I wasn't a devil, just an unlucky Earthling.

I guessed that whoever this girl was, had been pretty unlucky as well, to have her body stolen. Perhaps the girl had made a deal with a god, or just died. I didn't know. 

But it didn’t really matter, because I was about to die soon anyway. I could feel this body getting warmer, which when it was cold outside was never a good sign. I had also stopped shivering. So yeah, basically dead. 

Too bad I didn't even know what the world was like. I assumed there was magic, but I had yet to see any. The city was much like medieval Europe, with all the stone, wood, and lack of electricity. It also was not just back in time on Earth, because the people here were freakishly strong. I had also overheard conversations about an adventurer guild. Unfortunately, when I tried to enter, I was thrown out with one hand.

Yup. Classical fantasy world. I wondered what the next world would be like, or perhaps it would just be a void. Or heaven, but most likely hell. Not even I knew, and I had previous work experience, dying! Too bad I never got a chance to add that to my resume. I might have been able to get a job as an assassin or something. One can only hope.

But really, I just wanted to go home.

My thoughts were interrupted by a hand grabbing my arm and pulling me up so hard it felt like my shoulder was going to leave its socket. The man, or perhaps woman, I couldn't see clearly with my watery inflamed eyes, pressed something cold to my skin. There was a faint glow followed by a sigh of relief. Not from me, I still felt like shit.

I would have fought back, but I didn't have the strength anymore. And kicking a dead body is not nearly as fun as kicking a live one. So, I played dead, hoping the person would just drop me back in my pile.

Contrary to my beliefs, the person forced a glass vial of some kind of fluid down my throat. I spluttered and coughed, giving away my dead disguise. Then I began to feel really sleepy, and a numbness radiated out from my stomach. Then-

…

“Wa?”

I woke up groggily. The floor beneath me seemed to shift and jolt every now and then, throwing my head back and forth. I reached up and massaged the back of my sore neck.

Out of the corner of my eye, a dark shape moved. 

“Awake, are you? Good.”

My eyes now fully open, I began to realize how odd this situation was. Where was I? Who was this person? Why did I feel not dead? All very good questions. But first, the most important one. “Do you have food?”

I was starving! 

A piece of bread landed near my head, and I instantly reached out with my thin stick-like arms and took a huge bite out of the loaf. Who knew plain bread could taste so good!? It was gone in 10 seconds.

“Now. I saved your life. What do you have to repay me?” The man, because now I could see the greying beard and hard face, asked.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Umm. A heartfelt thank you?” I spread my hands, hopeful.

The man's shoulders began to shake, “HAHAHAHA!!”

Yeah. This was not Earth. People didn't do stuff for free unless you were a hero or a saint. Should have expected as much on some backwater fantasy world with shitty streets. Literally, shitty streets. Shit. On. The. Street.

“You’re funny, kid. But no, that's not going to cut it.”

I sighed. “Then what? I don’t have anything.”

The man leaned forward. “I want your body.”

“What?!” I quickly covered my chest and groin, even though the rips in my garbage-stained clothes were already revealing plenty.

Leaning backwards, the man brushed me off. “Not like that, you dunce. You will work for me until I am satisfied that I have been paid back in full. I won't waste too much breath on you. I am an alchemist, and I need an apprentice, one with a mana and vitality resource pool at minimum.”

I stared, confusion etched on my face. Resource pool? Like a swimming pool filled with gold? What was this creepy geezer talking about?

“I can see you don't understand. But I don't care. Figure it out yourself. Now, get grinding these herbs.” With that said, the man took out a mortar and pestle, along with a sack of purple flower petals, and plopped them down in front of me.

I hesitated for a second, followed by an angry scowl from the man. Then I picked up some petals and began grinding them down to a paste… Guess I was doing this now. It was certainly a step up from dying in an alley, but I was very confused.

Why was I doing this, and not dying in an alley? Because I have a resource pool? Or, more specifically, a vitality and mana resource pool? Whatever the hell that was supposed to mean! I guess I kind of got the mana resource pool, it being used in games to tell how much mana a person has. But Vitality? As far as I knew, that was a stat, closely related to the health and stamina bars. He also mentioned minimum. Did that mean there were more resource pools?

Also, why can I not see these pools? Do I have to call them up? System!... Initialize!... Appear, form, coalesce, congregate, be born!... Nothing. Mabey I need to say it outloud?

I mutter under my breath “System…”

Unfortunately, the creepy old man heard me. “System? What about the system?”

Surprisingly, this geezer knew what a system was. Which meant that if I did have a system, I wasn’t special. Which sucked BALLS! “Oh, nothing. But just wondering, how do I see my system?”

“Wow. You really are a street rat. And it’s ‘the’ system.”

Jackass.

“Heres a book. Read it after your done grinding down that whole bag.”

A book about the system! I longed to peak inside, but decided to abstain for now, heeding the man's orders and finish grinding the flower petals first, just in case the geezer decided to kick me off the cart.

After what felt like forever, the petals had all been ground down into paste. I put the mortar and pestle to the side and excitedly picked up the book. Opening it, I was thankful it was in a language I could read. After all, just because I can speak the language, it doesn't mean that they might not have a different writing system.

I looked for the word system, but couldn't find it on the first page. Instead, there were just some of what I assume to be alchemy mumbo jumbo. Herbs. Rocks. Drawings of pine cones. I flipped the page… Then the next, and the next, until I skimmed the whole the book. 

There was no mention of the system anywhere! It was all just alchemy stuff!

The geezer picked up the mortar and pestle and inspected the contents. “Hmm. Too many lumps.” He tossed the paste out the open back of the covered carriage.

… Asshole!

“Isn't that wasteful?” I asked him.

“Hmm? No. These petals are worthless. I can’t make anything with these.” He set down another bag of petals, along with the mortar and pestle. “Do it better.”

… I was about to explode! All that grinding for nothing? Fuck!

First I discover my sceptre and jewels are gone! Then I get questioned by an inquisitor from the church while he waterboards me with holy water! Then I almost died trying to survive on some shit-stained streets! And now I am made to grind flower petals for no fucking reason for some lecherous old geezer!

… Actually, compared to all the other stuff, this isn't that bad.

“What do you call yourself, boy?” The man asked.

Looking up at him, I replied. “I’m a girl.” Now, unfortunately. “And I don’t have a name.”

“Well, that’s expected of some street rat, which just makes this part easier for the system. Your name is now Gladgleer.” The man pointed at me. “Remember that.”

“Gladgleer? That’s one stupid name.”

The man frowned. “That’s my name, you little runt.”

“Did I say stupid? I meant unique.”

The man cuffed me over the head, bowling my frail, weak body over. Thankfully, it was a lot less painful than a kick to the ribs.