Prologue

In the pitch-black alleyway, a figure slowly crawled to their feet.

Feeling the pain throughout their body and the biting cold of the environment, they couldn't help but tremble, barely managing to wrap their arms around their chest.

They tried to provide themselves with some mental warmth, but as their hands touched, they realized that their own skin was just as cold.

"Where is this?"

Unfortunately, the night was deep and quiet, and being in a secluded alley, there was no one to provide an answer.

The biological instinct for survival drove them to force their frail body to stand up.

Staggering, they made their way toward the exit of the alley.

In this darkness, the only direction with a light source led to a slightly more bustling cobblestone street.

The reason it was only "slightly" bustling was that, as far as the eye could see, there wasn't a soul in sight, save for a few streetlamps flickering dimly.

"So, am I a beggar now?"

The mutterings went unanswered.

It was as if to say that this was simply how things were.

They had gone from an ordinary life to waking up as a beggar overnight.

"Falan, that is my name now."

For Falan, everything happening right now was inconceivable.

At the same time, it was something he resisted with all his might.

Because as a plain, unremarkable office worker, he had become a beggar in another world overnight.

This was a Western fantasy-style world, complete with elves, beastmen, adventurers, and the like.

Considering the environmental factors, his original name felt completely out of place.

That was why he had chosen the name Falan for himself.

The life of a beggar was incredibly arduous, and Falan understood why he had woken up in a dead-end alley.

Because there was no wind there; for someone without a home, it was a rare and luxurious sanctuary.

"Money, money, money. No matter which world it is, you can't get away from money."

For Falan, money was the thing he needed most right now.

However, as a newcomer from out of town, it wasn't easy for him to find a place to work.

He could only start by begging to gather the information he needed.

For instance, the city he was in was called Orario, and the currency used was Valis.

Or that the class disparity in this world was vast; for example, any random adventurer possessed strength far exceeding that of an ordinary person.

Beyond that, it seemed that gods existed in this world, and because of this, there were things called Familias.

"Of course, rather than strength, the first thing I need to consider is how to survive."

Continue earning money by begging? It wasn't impossible; after all, he had been a beggar for two or three days while adapting to the environment.

But if possible, "finding a stable job would be the best."

Having made this decision, Falan approached the target he had been observing for the past few days.

It was a shop with an antique appearance, and many people had been coming and going from it lately.

They were clearly short-handed, and this was his chance—a chance to find work.

As night fell and the customers stumbled out, drunk and heading home, Falan made up his mind, slowly walking toward the shop and pushing the door open.

As the door swung open, the first thing Falan felt was the warmth inside the shop.

The gentle lamplight seemed to illuminate his future path, and as he looked at the middle-aged man slowly looking up, Falan spoke softly: "Excuse me, are you looking for any help?"

The bartender merely frowned, then said with an annoyed expression: "No. You should know this is a tavern."

A tavern? So that was it. No wonder there weren't many people in charge; after all, bartending required a high level of expertise.

Not to mention that this was another world, unlike modern society where one could easily learn many things.

In this world, bartending was, in some respects, a specialized skill monopolized by a select group of people.

Falan opened his mouth, but ultimately said nothing, turning to leave instead.

After all, he truly didn't know how to mix drinks, let alone in this Western-fantasy style otherworld.

Presumably, the mixology in this world was far more complex and diverse than that of the modern world.

After continuing along his path and scouting out several pre-selected shops, Falan finally obtained a result worthy of his efforts over the past few days—it was a single sentence from a shop owner.

"I happen to be short-handed here, and you... you don't have a place to stay, right? Since that's the case, there's a storage room in the attic; go clean it up yourself, and report for work at six tomorrow morning."

The verdict was in.

Work starts at six tomorrow.

Falan felt quite satisfied that he had finally found a job to make a living in this otherworld.