Uncle from Another World: Those Left Behind in Gran Bahamar - The Letter That Arrived — The Return of the Orc Face —

The housing complex at dusk had its walls dyed the color of madder red. The iron railing still held the day's heat, and when he touched it, it was faintly warm. Shimazaki Yousuke stood rooted in front of the mailbox. His overgrown black hair swayed in the wind, and his collarbone peeked from the collar of a wrinkled T-shirt. His sleepy, dark-brown eyes were fixed on a single envelope in his hand. The envelope bore a pattern he didn't recognize. A seal of three silver stars arranged in a circle. The ink was a deep emerald, glowing as if it had soaked into the paper's fibers. (This is... Gran Bahamar's...) His heart gave one great leap. Seventeen years ago, he had returned from this world. After seventeen years of coma, carrying seventeen years of memories from another world. What awaited him upon his return to reality was a scattered family, Sega's defeat in the console wars, and a Japan where everything had changed. Even so, he had lived. As a YouTuber, scraping by. Together with his nephew Takatakahashi Norifumi, in this housing complex in Fukuoka. "...A transfer spell, huh." The murmur dissolved into the evening wind. He closed the mailbox lid and cupped the envelope in both hands. A faint residue of magic seeped from the paper's surface. The sender's presence. That elf with the golden hair and emerald eyes. When he returned to the apartment, Norifumi still hadn't come back from university. In the quiet room, only the low hum of the refrigerator echoed. Yousuke sat cross-legged on the living room floor and gently opened the envelope. The letter inside seemed to be made from some kind of plant fiber, its texture strangely smooth. The writing was trembling. "Uncle, it's an emergency. I need you to come back to Gran Bahamar. Mabel is... the Frost God Sword is already beyond my control." Just that much. But each character conveyed the writer's distress with raw vividness. Her emerald letters were always strong, flowing and beautiful. Now they shook, grew faint, and bore traces of being rewritten over and over. (Midori, to go this far...) Yousuke gripped the letter. His life had stopped at seventeen. No—to be precise, he had died once at seventeen. Hit by a truck, he lay in a coma for seventeen years. During that time, his soul had been summoned to Gran Bahamar. A world of swords and magic. A continent where seven major nations and numerous small principalities jostled together, roughly twice the area of the Japanese archipelago, home to about twelve million people. Those seventeen years there had been hell. Because of his ugly appearance, he was mistaken for an orc subspecies, taken for a monster, and attacked by villagers. Stoned, set on fire, swords pointed at him. He'd lost count of how many times he nearly died. Even so, he was the kind of man who couldn't abandon people in trouble. In game terms, no matter how unreasonable the quest, if there was an NPC in trouble, he couldn't help but save them. A man raised on Sega games had no choice but to live that way in reality too. (Those villagers might form a subjugation party again.) What surfaced in his mind was a horde of villagers carrying torches. Voices screaming to kill the grotesque man. That terror came back vividly even now, seventeen years later. If he went, the same thing might happen again. No—it would happen. In that world, his face was a monster's, plain and simple. Even so. "...I have to go, don't I." Midori was asking for help. That elf who was stronger than anyone, more stubborn than anyone, and yet kinder than anyone. If she said it was "beyond her control," then it truly was a desperate situation. Outside the window, a crow called once. The sky was already sinking into deep indigo. ———— The northernmost reaches of the Gran Bahamar continent—Frostheim. On the frozen earth a short distance from the ice clan's village, Midori stood alone, gazing at the white-frozen land. Her straight golden hair, reaching her waist, streamed in the cold wind. Her emerald, strong-willed eyes now held a somehow weary color. "...It's spreading again." Ice crystals spread from her feet. Beautifully, and cruelly, they froze the surrounding trees. Conifers that must have been centuries old turned white and translucent like glasswork, dropping small fragments with a crackle each time the wind blew. The air was painfully cold, and her breath solidified white and fell to the ground. This was Mabel's doing. The Frost God Sword. A sacred treasure passed down through the ice clan for generations, the only weapon capable of defeating the Blaze Dragon. But it was also a double-edged sword that went berserk in sync with its wielder's emotions. Mabel Raybell had lived killing her emotions to suppress that power. A downer of a girl with puffy eyes. Shutting her heart away like ice. (Her heart's wavering, before reuniting with Uncle.) Midori bit her lip. On the ring finger of her left hand was a single ring. A Celestial Star Stone ring. Given to her seventeen years ago by that man. Crafted from a rare crystal called a fragment of stars, it had the effect of amplifying magic and extending lifespan. But at the same time, it harbored a curse that collected "time" from its wearer. In this world, giving a ring meant a proposal of marriage. Without knowing that, that man had handed it to her as a token of gratitude. (That orc-face doesn't know anything. Not what this ring means, not why I haven't been able to take it off for seventeen years.) Lately the ring had begun to give off a strange heat. Sometimes the heat spread from her fingertips through her whole arm, accompanied by a throbbing pain. Her lifespan was being shaved away. She had vaguely realized it. Even so, she couldn't remove it. Removing it felt like severing her connection to that man. "...How stupid." The moment she murmured, something collapsed at the edge of her vision. "Mabel!" Midori broke into a run. The frozen ground shattered under her boots. Around the fallen girl, the ice crystals were still growing. From Mabel's fingertips, white frost spread like ripples. Her silver hair scattered across the frozen earth, and a thin layer of ice had formed along the edges of her closed eyelids. (Her emotions overflowed again. Just the thought of seeing that man makes the Frost God Sword react this much.) Midori lifted Mabel's body. Cold as ice. But her heart was definitely beating. The Frost God Sword, still strapped to her back, pulsed with a pale blue light. As if resonating with its master's emotions. "Fools, both of us... How much more do we have to be toyed with by that orc-face before we're satisfied?" Her voice trembled. It wasn't just from the cold. This world, Gran Bahamar, was generally full of good-looking people. Humans, elves, the ice clan—even ordinary villagers and shopkeepers were all handsome men and beautiful women. In such a world, Shimazaki Yousuke's face was heresy. Enough to be mistaken for an orc subspecies. That's why he had endured unreasonable persecution in this world for seventeen years. Even so, he never stopped helping people. (That man has convinced himself that no one could ever like him. He doesn't understand the meaning of this ring, or my feelings, none of it.) Midori hoisted Mabel onto her back and began walking toward the village. As the freezing wind howled, her golden hair danced like threads of gold. An elf's lifespan is about eight hundred years. Of those, she had spent seventeen on her feelings for that man. (Even so, I...) The ring grew hot again. It pulsed in time with her heartbeat. The sensation of her lifespan being shaved away. But strangely, she wasn't afraid. What she feared was that that man would never return. Only that. ———— In a room of the housing complex late at night, Yousuke pulled an old leather bag from the back of the closet. Inside were some of the equipment he'd used in the other world and the small items he'd brought back upon his return. From among them, he took out a small silver mirror. "Preparations for transfer, huh." A faint light ran across the mirror's surface. To open the door connecting Gran Bahamar and the real world required a specific magic formula and a catalyst like this mirror. The same procedure he'd used when he returned seventeen years ago. (Should I bring Norifumi and Fujimiya-san?) His nephew Norifumi was a university student who admired isekai stories. He loved hearing Yousuke's reminiscences, and his eyes had sparkled since learning magic existed. His childhood friend Fujimiya Sumika was also one of the few people who knew of Yousuke's abilities. (But that world is dangerous. And in that world, I'm...) An orc subspecies. A monster. A target for subjugation. Yousuke set down the mirror and leaned against the wall. The fluorescent light on the ceiling flickered faintly. How many years had it been since he moved into this room? Life with Norifumi was his first "ordinary life" in seventeen years. Playing games, filming videos, occasionally eating with Norifumi. That kind of peace—he loved it from the bottom of his heart. (Even so, I have to go.) Someone was in trouble. And if it was Midori, all the more so. She had saved his life countless times seventeen years ago. Saving her from the Poison Dragon had only been the first occasion; after that, she had saved him time and again. Without her, he would have died long ago. "Got to repay my debts." Even in Sega games, you always repay your debts. That was his creed. He stood and opened the window. The night wind flowed in. Beyond the housing complex, the lights of Fukuoka spread out. Countless lights twinkled like stars. (Maybe the lights of this city and the starry sky over there are the same in the end.) He touched his left ear. An earring embedded with a small fragment of Celestial Star Stone. One of the few pieces of "equipment" he'd obtained in the other world. As long as he had this, he could hear the voices of the spirits. He could use magic. "...All right." He picked up the mirror and took a deep breath. He was going back to Gran Bahamar. The terror of seventeen years ago might strike him again. Those villagers might form a subjugation party and come to kill him. Even so, Midori was waiting. Mabel was about to be swallowed by the Frost God Sword. (If I don't go, who will?) That was the kind of man Shimazaki Yousuke was. A silver magic circle rose to the mirror's surface. Light filled the room, making his long black hair stand on end. The pale light reflected off his stubbled chin. (I'll leave a letter for Norifumi. And for Fujimiya-san too.) He raised the mirror. The magic circle rotated, and space warped. "Open—the door to the other world." The light enveloped him. ———— The Ice Temple of Frostheim. Having laid Mabel on the bed, Midori sat before the altar. Inside the temple, pale blue ice pillars stretched to the ceiling, and the sound of the storm outside could be heard in the distance. On the altar, the Frost God Sword lay dormant. No—it only appeared to sleep; the sword was certainly awake. A blue light flickered, pulsing. "...Please. Reach him." Midori gripped the ring. The Celestial Star Stone glowed faintly in response to her body heat. (If he comes. If I can see him again.) Deep in her chest, a tight, aching pain. "This time, I have to tell him. About this ring, and my... my feelings." The moment she put it into words, the ring released a fierce heat. Midori nearly let go despite herself and gritted her teeth. Her lifespan was being shaved away. Even so, the option of removing the ring did not exist within her. "...Because it's something you gave me." Her voice blurred with tears. Seventeen years ago, that man had said: "Here, a thank-you. A Celestial Star Stone ring. I won't use it, so." That was all. Without knowing the meaning of a proposal, or the ring's value, anything. He had laughed and pressed it into her hand. (I can't forget that smile.)

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Episode 1

Name: Uncle from Another World: Those Left Behind in Gran Bahamar
Author: Novelia

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