When I blinked my eyes again, it was raining and the skies were dark.

Around me, there was the pitter-patter of raindrops bouncing off cobblestone and gravel. The echo of water pounding against the hollow wooden rafters of the surrounding buildings seemed deafening. Yet, I doubted if it was actually that loud, as this couldn’t have been any heavier than a small evening rainshower.

Rather, maybe my senses were heightened in this alien environment. Everything was too vivid and life-like, almost like this world was more realistic than reality itself.

My skin felt cold and raw. I was soaked as if I had been wading underneath a lake, and thick strands of wet hair were plastered against my face. Water was getting into my eyelashes, and I blinked multiple times before I finally raised a hand to rub my eyes. My vision was blurry. The trace of rainwater in my mouth had a tangy and metallic taste.

But mostly, it smelled awful.

Yes, that was literally the first thought that crossed my mind.

The thing that stood out to me the most was that it smelled goddamn terrible.

On Earth, I’d grown up in a place with vast expanses of the Great Outdoors, so I remembered the fresh scent of rain blooming in the forest better than the back of my own hand. However, this place was nothing like that. The best way to describe the overpowering odor would be like being in a public restroom in the countryside of rural China. It smelled quite literally like poop.

I looked down at my feet, which were incidentally barefoot on the gravel. I raised one leg and noted the faint brownish coloration of the dirty water that dribbled down my ankles.

 

My stomach fluttered at a certain sickening thought and I quickly looked around me to see if there was anywhere ‘safe’ to put down my feet. However, I soon realized that everywhere was the same.

There were no sewers in this place. Clearly, this was the kind of world where people dumped their chamber pots out of the window and into the street.

This place — it was a dark alleyway — the architecture around me seemed medieval.

It was clearly some kind of city. The buildings were made of wood, and no house was taller than three stories. The style of the construction reminded me strongly of the timber-framed dwellings of historic urban Germany. The square frames, X-shaped buttresses, and whitewashed walls were all distinctive features.

Where was I?

 

Frankly, I knew that was a stupid question, because I already knew the answer. God had sent me here. The only logical conclusion was that this was an isekai world of some kind.

However, the question was what kind, and whether I should be concerned because I had clearly angered God?

I finally looked down at myself.

I immediately passed a subconscious sigh of relief, because the ridiculous boobs that God had started growing on my chest were gone. Instead, I was as flat as a washboard. But at least that wasn’t something I hadn’t already been used to.

I also noticed I was wearing some kind of rags. An inverted oversized potato sack, it seemed? However, it was extremely worn down and full of holes. It skimpily provided just barely enough coverage, and furthermore, the cloth material was a little itchy.

However, the main impression of myself that occupied the bulk of my thoughts was the fact that I was skinny.

And not just ‘skinny’ like plenty of people are skinny back at home, but concerningly so.

I was as skinny as bones, meaning that my skeleton was nearly showing. I could see the folds of my skin hug the outline of the bones in my forearm, and my wrists were so thin that I was literally afraid that they might snap. I had almost no flesh on my limbs, and I immediately thought of those pictures you occasionally see of malnourished children in Africa.

Basically, I had been reincarnated into the body of a starving girl.

 

+ + +

 

My self-examination was cut short by the sudden sound of multiple footsteps splashing through the puddles. I looked up into the dark alley, and heard some shouts I could barely make out in the distance.

“Sdak dhu drooavk dlanavur!” (Stop that fleeing criminal!)

“Thoav koddavk uvuav!” (They’re getting away!)

Although it was clearly a foreign language I’d never heard of before, for some reason I appeared to understand the meaning of the words without a heartbeat’s worth of hesitation.

Evidently, God had given me this ability without even mentioning it. Should that be taken as a reassuring sign that God didn’t hate me as much as I thought? I had gotten the impression that God was really angry when we parted, so initially I had been extremely worried that something especially ugly would be in store for me upon arriving here.

 

As the sound of footsteps running through the water got exponentially louder, I reflexively reached out and grabbed the blur of the little figure that nearly dashed right past me. They had been coming so fast that they sprayed poop-water into the air, much like a car splashes a curtain of water onto the curbside. However, my reaction time was even quicker.

I seized their wrist and brought their sprint to a sudden jerking halt.

No matter how I looked at it, this runaway figure couldn’t have been anything more than a child. Was this child a pickpocket?

Stealing is bad, and it’s not good to let children develop such bad behavior. In this case, I definitely considered myself to be on the side of law and justice. A pickpocketing child should be chastised and learn from their wrongdoings before they grow old and it's too late for them to have regrets. For this reason, I intended to turn this young rebelling miscreant in to the authorities.

Briefly, my eyes directly met with those of the fleeing child.

I caught of a glimpse of their astonished face. It was a girl, I think. Probably no more than eleven or thirteen years old. However, what stood out to me the most was the sheer Terror in her eyes — terror like I’d never seen in a person before. Frankly, that extreme expression on her face shocked me to the point of speechlessness.

Blankly, we stood there staring at each other for a few moments as I tightly held the child’s wrist in my grip.

The girl broke the stalemate an instant later as she tried to shake herself free, shouting.

“Lod dho didk ka!” (Let me the fuck go!)

However, no matter how she tried, she couldn’t quite extricate herself from my grasp. She began to kick and flail and struggle, shaking her head wildly like her life depended on it.

 

It was right there that I had a sudden change of heart.

I didn’t exactly have a strong reason for it, nor was it a decision based on logic or anything particularly rational. Frankly, I changed my mind solely because of a gut feeling. Some part of me deep inside just didn’t feel like it was right that a child could have so much overwhelming fear.

It didn’t matter why. No child should have a reason to experience something like that.

Without warning, I hauled the girl towards me and pulled her to the side of the alleyway. Earlier, I had spotted a crack in the crumbling whitewash that sealed the space between two buildings, and it was just large enough that a small child could just barely fit inside of it. Wordlessly, I shoved the girl into the crevice, and then I started pushing a large crate of some kind to cover the gap. This way, somebody passing by on the streets would have no inkling that a child was in fact hidden in the walls.

Just as I finished shoving the crate securely into place, I heard the sounds of additional footsteps coming. Presumably, these were the police hot in pursuit.

I turned around, my mind racing to fabricate a story about where the girl went and potential lines I might say. Currently, my goal was to misdirect them elsewhere, leaving us both alone.

I had no idea, however, that things were going to get much worse.

 

+ + +

 

I felt the side of my face slam against cold brick, sending stars and bright lights into my vision. Heavy coarse hands had a tight grip on my hair, yanking indiscriminately on my scalp and causing my eyes to water.

A large figure that came flying from seemingly nowhere had tackled me and securely pinned me against the wall. I barely had time to catch my breath or get a good glimpse of my assailant before I was suddenly slammed with a knee in the stomach again, completely knocking the wind out of me. The man dragged me by my hair (ow!) before flinging me across the cobblestone ground.

What the fuck?!

Aren’t these supposed to be the authorities?

Why am I being attacked without warning?!

“Cukdv, dhavk vo duikhd avo dho livuvuav klakdadidok dlan dho rakhd kakdladd-lok.”
(Capt'n, I think we've caught one of the runaway prostitutes from the red light district.)

The man spoke nonchalantly as he drove his heavy fist into my chest once more, causing me to gasp from the inability to breath and my eyes to widen in blistering pain. Meanwhile, he pulled on my hair again, forcing my neck into a painful backwards arch. He chuckled.

“Sho dlaok da kod uvuav dlan no dalkd, kid u dukd livvol. Voxol kaddh huk u dhuvdo, kok.”
(She tried to get away from me at first, but I'm a fast runner. The bitch never had a chance, kek.)

Wait! I’m innocent! You have the wrong person!

Earlier there was another girl—

Wait, how the heck is she supposed to be a prostitute?!

Frantic thoughts raced through my brain, but my head was overflowing with dazzling pain and sparks of bright light. I tried to open my mouth to speak, but I was struck across the face with an unsympathetic fist before I was able to croak an intelligible sound out. A few seconds and many beatings later, I was already writhing and gasping as terribly as my frail figure was bruised.

Tears were freely flowing and I was trying to get words out every second I got a chance, but the man didn’t seem interested in hearing me talk. Instead, there was only a horrible mixture of involuntary shrieks and whimpers as I was abused and kicked around like a rag doll without a moment’s reprieve.

And yet… the man demonstrated no sign of slowing down. I couldn’t erase the image of the sinister grin on his face and flashes of his flawless ivory-white teeth.

 

+ + +

 

(Lieutenant Cuav, we don’t make a profit if you accidentally kill her.)

I heard a second voice speak up from my bruise-covered and quivering position on the ground.

(Yes, Capt’n! Don’t worry. I’ve only accidentally killed one or two before, rest assured that I’m better than average!)

My assailant — the ‘Lieutenant’ — struck me without warning across my cheeks as if to casually demonstrate his point. e continued talking.

(How much coin do ya think we’d get from selling this wench to the slavers, Capt'n? Oh, but wait, can I get a fuck out of her first? I'll be real quick. I like my girlies on the flat side, ya understand me, right, bro?)

I was barely conscious enough to register this exchange between the two thugs, especially with my brain feeling like a constant fog and my ears ringing non-stop. However, the key words in the sentence manage to sink into me.

Sell? Slavers? Sex? Wait, what?

Everything was happening too quickly. I was confused. Everything hurt. I probably had a concussion. My scalp was still on fire and the tears were blurring up my eyes. Frankly, I was still in denial. I couldn’t believe that this was happening to me. It felt like barely hours ago that I was back at home, walking along to the train station and laughing with my friends. Typing away at my cell phone and messaging my boyfriend silly emojis like we always do.

A heavy pair of muddy black boots suddenly came to a halt right in front of my face, right in the middle of a puddle.

It was one of the few things I could see with the side of my face shoved crudely against the gravel, a fistfull of my hair securely bundled in a painful knot around the heartless hands of that hateful lieutenant. The rain continued to pour, rippling and splattering on the shallow pools of rainwater speckled across the street like islands.

I could see the tip of a sword. n it, an elaborate coat of arms was engraved. It was sheathed and hanging from hips of the owner of the boots. I could only guess that this was the “Captain.”

“I’m not the person you’re looking for,” I finally managed to catch my breath to croak out, my voice raspy and weak and barely audible. I’m not a criminal. “I’m innocent! There was a different girl earlier. Please let me go. Please!”

I didn’t fully understand what was happening. I had thought that these two men were on the side of the law, or at least soldiers, but they seemed to behave more like thugs.

Suddenly, there was a pause. Clearly, they’d heard me speak.

(What is she saying? I don’t understand her. A foreigner?) the lieutenant said, confused.

(......)

Without warning, the Captain bent down and roughly tore away the piece of potato sack rag that was skimpily covering my torso in a single swift movement, leaving me completely bare. My desperate eyes rapidly flickered upwards towards the man’s face, virtually pleading and frantic. I didn’t comprehend why they couldn’t understand me. Was it the English? Did it not get translated when I spoke?

However, the expression that I saw on the Captain’s face was completely unexpected. There was a grimace of complete, utter, and total disgust.

 

+ + +

 

(Tch), he said, his voice bristling with annoyance as he slowly turned around.

But then he immediately spun back and struck the “lieutenant” across the face with the back of his hand. A loud crack resounded through the alley as I watched the exchange between the two men in total shock.

(You fool!) the captain roared in fury.

He suddenly grabbed my left arm and dragged me to my feet. Shoving me around like a puppeteer with a rag doll, he pushed me centimeters in front of the other soldier’s face and started pointing all around my naked body, the remaining scraps of my rags fluttering to the ground as strips of destroyed cloth.

(You see this?! And this?! And this?! Are you blind?!)

The captain's gloved hands were practically shaking as his index finger gestured at random patches of skin throughout my body.

At that point, I was finally able to get a decent look myself. Earlier, I’d only had the time to give myself one quick glance, so I hadn’t noticed that there were additional abnormalities to my body concealed underneath the rags.

What I saw was quite surprising to me as well.

It was weird and unnatural.

Mutant. Macabre. Grotesque.

There were bumpy and rough patches of purplish-black plaques scattered in random places on my pale-colored skin. I had some patches on my arms, thighs, neck, and an especially large cluster on the side of my midsection. They looked kind of like bruises, except they were clearly raised and rough-textured. If anything, I'd describe it kind of like patches of discolored alligator skin, although, to be honest, I’d never seen an alligator in my life.

Apart from that, I was skinny as bones. I had no curves, was completely flat, dirty, and generally malnourished and repulsive.

Ugly and disfigured — pretty much summed it all up.

(This bitch is Diseased! And you still want to shag her, let alone sell her?! People told me you're 'slow', but this is beyond retarded!)

The captain looked totally exasperated.

At that moment, he shoved me away and kicked me aside in total disgust, as if he were handling feces. He held his gloved hands outstretched far away himself, as if afraid of accidentally contaminating himself, while he gingerly removed his gloves and threw the cloth at the ground like trash.

(We caught the wrong person. We’ve lost too much time.) He gestured at me while talking to his partner. (There’s a standing order to kill any Diseased we find, but we don’t have time to dispose of the corpse. It’ll spread faster from dead bodies than living ones. The runaways take priority.)

(Oh? I got the wrong one? But I was positive the prostitute was a flat one.)

(Please just shut up. Use something other than your fucking dick as a brain for once.)

(Yes, sir! I’ll take that into account, sir!)

(We’re leaving.)

(Yes, sir!)

And just with that short exchange, they were gone.

They didn't look back towards me once. Not a single word of apology or a shred of remorse.

 

+ + +

 

A few minutes later, the crate in front of the wall budged. A little girl appeared from the crack. She walked over to where my broken body was crumpled, and looked down at me.

Her eyes were unsympathetic and cold.

(You’re Diseased), she said accusingly, as if that statement was the worst possible offense in itself. (People like you are the reason why the rest of us suffer so much.)

Then she turned around and darted away.

 

+ + +

 

My hands were quivering uncontrollably and I couldn’t make it stop. I couldn’t stop the waves of indescribable emotions streaming incessantly from my eyes. I couldn’t calm down, and I couldn’t erase the image of those men from my head.

I… had nearly forgotten… what it was like to have this kind of trauma.

I staggered to my feet, almost stumbling, my arms still trembling. I couldn’t stay sitting here, naked in the open. It wasn’t safe. I couldn’t allow myself to fall into the spiral of being a perpetual victim.

I had to find a way to keep struggling, fighting, somehow.

But was there any place in this isekai world that could be considered safe?

 

∎