Karen

At dawn, as the first light crept over the horizon, Karen awoke in pain. He looked around at the dilapidated shack, its walls full of cracks and holes, and couldn’t help but sigh.

“Why is it that all transmigrators get such a rough start? Why can’t my beginning be any better?” he muttered.

Yes, Karen was a transmigrator. Just a few days ago, who knows which deity slipped up, and Karen found himself transported to this new world while in his sleep. In an instant, he went from being a contented, slightly overweight young man named Wu Qi to a sixteen- or seventeen-year-old country boy called Karen in another world.

His circumstances grew bleaker. Karen’s parents had been killed three years ago when a rampaging magical beast attacked their village. Orphaned, he was taken in by his uncle and aunt—an infamously harsh and stingy pair, who only adopted Karen in order to seize what little property his parents had left.

Life under their roof was predictable misery. For three years, Karen was underfed, poorly clothed, and treated as little more than a cheap laborer—a scapegoat, even. Beatings were common. This wretched existence lasted until just a few days ago, when Karen turned sixteen. His spiteful uncle, eager to be rid of him, finally divided the family property.

All Karen received was the rickety shack he now occupied and a patch of land so barren it could hardly yield a single grain. He was promptly thrown out.

This, Karen could not endure. He had suffered those three years, waiting for the day the family would split, never expecting to be left with nothing. For once, he stood up for himself, demanding his rightful inheritance. The result was a brutal beating—his first and only show of backbone rewarded with fists and kicks from both uncle and aunt.

That night, Karen’s battered body could endure no more, and his life quietly slipped away. Thus, Wu Qi’s soul crossed over, and Karen’s tragic fate became Wu Qi’s dire beginning.

Other transmigrators might start with a loyal dog or a trusty gun. Karen had nothing but a broken-down shack, a wasteland for a field, and wounds that still ached days later. Three days had passed, yet Karen’s body throbbed with pain. It was a start as miserable as any could imagine.

If not for the uncertainty of what awaited him after death, and the secret “golden finger” he carried upon transmigrating, Karen would have considered ending it all and starting anew.

But since he neither dared nor wished to give up this life, Karen resolved to make the best of it.

“My body has more or less recovered these past few days, but there’s no food left. If that stubborn little girl hadn’t brought me something to eat, I’d probably have starved by now. It’s time to find a way to get some food—and maybe, just maybe, to activate that golden finger.”

Muttering to himself, Karen crawled off the tattered wooden bed.

Just then, a small girl entered. She was cute enough, though her skin was tanned, and she looked to be just six or seven years old.

“So, you’ve finally decided to get up,” she scoffed. “I thought you’d just rot in bed and let me feed you for the rest of your life.”

Her words, delivered in a sweet, childish tone, dripped with sarcasm. Karen, however, was used to her by now. In the past three days, he had come to know this sharp-tongued, soft-hearted little tsundere.

He knew her family was poor. Her parents worked in town, leaving her and her grandmother to fend for themselves. The food she’d brought him these past few days must have been taken from their own meager portions. No matter how bristly she sounded, Karen only felt warmth toward her.

“Don’t… don’t look at me with those disgusting eyes,” she huffed, her face flushing as she kicked him lightly. “You must be one of those creepy lolicons you were talking about!”

Ignoring her protests, Karen accepted the dark, rock-hard bread and the clear water she offered. “It’s not that I can’t stand seeing you starve,” she insisted, “it’s just that we have so much food at home, we can’t possibly finish it all.”

“Thank you,” Karen replied, smiling. Without hesitation, he broke off a piece of the black bread and began eating. It was the staple of the poor—filling, but nearly inedible. Three days ago, he wouldn’t have even looked at it; now, hunger forced him to chew it down.

“By the way, didn’t you mention your family has a hatchet?” he asked as he gnawed on the bread.

“Don’t call me by that weird name!” she protested, turning away as a hint of a smile tugged at her lips. She might pretend to dislike the name he’d given her, but before Karen, she’d never had a name at all.

“Wait, what do you need a hatchet for?” she asked suddenly, the tsundere mask slipping as concern flashed in her eyes. “You’re so scrawny a breeze could blow you away. Don’t tell me you want to use it to take on your cruel uncle? I admire your courage, but that would be foolish. Not that I care, of course—if you died, so what? But you’ve eaten six loaves of our bread. If you really plan to get yourself killed, return our bread first!”

Karen watched her with amusement and fondness. She tried to sound indifferent, but her worry was clear. He couldn’t help but ruffle her hair as she scolded him.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going after that man—at least, not yet. I just want to borrow the hatchet to chop some wood and fix up this shack.”

“Hmph! Who cares what you do? And stop messing with my hair, you degenerate lolicon!” she huffed, her face growing red as she batted his hand away and hurried out of the shack.

A few minutes later, she returned, carrying a hatchet nearly two-thirds her height. Karen ruffled her hair one more time, then, taking the hatchet, along with half a loaf of black bread and some water, walked toward Goblin Forest behind the village.