“…and then Tamara caught him with Hanna—the one from three houses down—right there in the garden, under the big tree. In the act.”

  “No way!”

  “Oh yes.”

  I am currently sitting at a riverbank, surrounded by housewives, calmly washing an enormous pile of laundry while listening to the latest gossip of the town.

  “I always knew there was something off about Hanna. Ever since her husband died, she never found a new one. That’s not normal. And now she’s stealing other women’s husbands.”

  “Exactly! But honestly, what did she expect? Why marry an adventurer in the first place? Everyone knows they don’t live long.”

  “Well… I can kind of understand her. With muscles like that, and the thrill of adventure—who wouldn’t be tempted?”

  The women fall silent for a moment, staring dreamily into the distance.

  Then they burst into loud laughter.

  “Thrills, muscles, and adventures don’t fill your children’s bellies. In the end, you’ll sit there all alone. My Manfred may be boring, but he’s reliable. He doesn’t hit me, and he only drinks occasionally at the tavern. I can count on that.”

  “So true…”

  They cast me a longing sideways glance, sigh deeply, and return to their washing.

  “And besides—every adventurer is a skirt chaser. You never know if your beloved isn’t off enjoying himself in some other town while you’re stuck guarding the house!”

  The longing looks instantly turn into sharp, calculating glares that pierce straight through me.

  I shudder internally.

  Don’t worry, ladies. I’d never admit it out loud, but I am far too terrified to ever cheat on Rin or Leana. I don’t even want to imagine what the two of them would do to me.

  So while I keep scrubbing clothes under murderous stares—and tremble internally at my imminent death—I find myself asking an important question:

  How did the hope of the entire world end up in this situation?

  Let’s rewind a few hours.

  ***

  Everything started when we left the bandit camp and headed south toward Hatsuria.

  All of our clothes were soaked in blood. Dried blood, half-dried blood, sticky blood that clung unpleasantly to fabric and skin alike—and smelled exactly as bad as you’d expect. We did have spare clothes in our saddlebags, but not nearly enough to last long. Most of them were light garments, offering little protection if we were dragged into another fight.

  Which raised an important question.

  Doesn’t this world have some kind of dimensional item storage? You know, the kind every halfway decent fantasy story provides? Traveling would be so much easier.

  In short—we had to do laundry.

  Doing that on the road would have been a nightmare, so we made for the nearest town instead. We also wanted to return the rescued women to their families as quickly as possible. By nightfall, we had arrived, handed the women over to the town guard, secured a room at an inn, and collapsed into bed like rocks.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  The next morning, the plan was simple: breakfast, laundry, a bit of rest, then continue our journey in the afternoon.

  We left our spiders in a nearby patch of forest. Leana assured me that was perfectly fine—and apparently, our mounts had already caused quite a stir just passing through town.

  The beginning of my downfall came when I thought I could avoid doing the laundry.

  In my old world, I had washed clothes plenty of times. But that was the modern, European society of the twenty-first century. Surely, in a medieval fantasy world, as a man, I could delegate such tedious housework.

  After all, I was traveling with two women now.

  …Or so I thought.

  “Leana and I are going into town to look around,” Rin casually announced over breakfast—casually dropping what can only be described as a tactical nuke.

  “Leana has only ever known the forest. I want to show her human culture. You know—woman to woman. A relaxed talk.”

  Leana nodded in perfect agreement.

  It was a setup.

  Rin didn’t even give me time to recover before continuing.

  “You’ll support us, of course. It’s in your best interest that your women get along well. There are also a few things we need to discuss—things you’d only get in the way of. So could you be a dear and wash the laundry?”

  She smiled sweetly.

  Leana continued to nod, her expression perfectly serious.

  My mind went blank.

  I needed a strategy—fast. In countless fantasy stories, young girls were always shy and embarrassed about their laundry. That had to work, right?

  It had to.

  “So… does that mean I’d also be washing your underwear?” I asked, forcing the sleaziest grin I could manage.

  “Like… your panties?”

  I hated myself a little.

  “Yes, of course,” Rin replied flatly. “Do you think I’d put worn underwear back on without washing it? And don’t you dare tear anything. My underwear is delicate—and not cheap. If you ruin it, you’re buying me new ones.”

  That wasn’t the reaction I expected.

  Leana smiled at me reassuringly.

  “Please do not worry, Lord Arik. As an elf, I do not wear underwear as a matter of principle.”

  That was not the problem.

  I stared at both of them, utterly defeated.

  “Excellent. Then it’s settled,” Rin concluded cheerfully.

  “Our laundry is upstairs in the room. Fold everything neatly once it’s dry—otherwise it’ll wrinkle in the saddlebags.”

  She stood up.

  Leana followed her.

  Together, they left the inn, stepping straight into the bustling streets of the city.

  ***

  With that thought in mind, I start washing the underwear even more carefully than before.

  Painstakingly carefully.

  Almost reverently.

  Because if I ruin these…

  I will not survive the day.

  I rinse the fabric in the river, watching the water carry away the last traces of blood and dirt. The current ripples softly, indifferent to my existential crisis. I hang the piece to dry, making absolutely sure it’s nowhere near sharp branches, rough stones, or anything else that might tear it.

  Only when it’s safely secured do I allow myself to breathe again.

  I lean back, stretch my sore shoulders, and glance at the remaining laundry pile.

  …It hasn’t gotten smaller at all.

  So this is my life now.

  Saving villages. Fighting bandits. Outsmarting demon shadows.

  And then—laundry duty.

  If someone from my old world could see me right now, they’d never believe this was the same guy who fantasized about epic adventures, legendary battles, and heroic glory.

  Well. To be fair.

  This is heroic in its own way.

  Probably.

  I sneak another look at the women beside me. They’ve gone back to chatting, their earlier hostility already fading into routine boredom. To them, I’m no hero. Just another unfortunate man roped into domestic labor.

  There’s something oddly comforting about that.

  No prophecies.

  No expectations.

  No world to save.

  Just soap, water, and the quiet rhythm of daily life.

  I think of Rin and Leana again.

  Rin, with her sharp eyes and sharper tongue, undoubtedly dragging Leana through the city, pointing out customs, markets, and all the strange little habits of human society. And Leana—earnest, serious, probably taking mental notes like this was a battlefield briefing.

  They’re talking about something important. I can feel it.

  Something about the future.

  About us.

  And for once, I’m not needed to decide anything.

  The thought settles in my chest, warm and strange.

  Maybe… it’s okay to just stay here a little longer.

  Wash clothes.

  Listen to gossip.

  Exist.

  The hero of the world, elbow-deep in river water, carefully tending to his companions’ laundry.

  …Yeah.

  This world is definitely not what I expected.

  But somehow—

  I don’t hate it.