"Hmm... Reincarnation, huh?"
His thoughts were scattered, fighting for dominance. Reincarnation? From what he remembered, it was nothing more than folklore, call it wishful thinking, the salivating dreams of grief-stricken minds and hardcore otakus.
But he wasn't either of those, not entirely at least, maybe back in 0his teenage years when his parents paid his bills and he didn't have to worry about catering for 0 everyday expenses by himself, when the reality of life didn't sit so heavily on his shoulders.
He had lots of free time back then, many more to waste on fantasising about another world and the likes of assuming the role of a hero, slaying beasts, getting fame and riches, respected and exalted.
Once he reached adulthood and reality kicked in? All of those vanished at some point, the harsh, cold truth became discomfortly glaring to his understanding.
Eventually, he had no choice but to let go of those days and conform to societal norms if he didn't want to live on an empty stomach, barely surviving with scraps to feed on. Day after day, he toiled, working hard just to survive.
It was during his moment of toiling that the cold truth no one could outrun finally caught up to him? Death.
He died in the office. Working late. Alone. Just another long night trying to put together a crucial file, something that needed to be ready by dawn.
And then, just like that, he dropped dead.
All that rushing, all the stress, the sleepless nights… and for what?
Just to have it all end there?
Or so he thought.
Because now… he had awakened.
Eyes opened to a new world, a foreign one.
And the most baffling part wasn't even the reincarnation itself, but what he reincarnated as.
"Thinking to yourself again, huh, Tyberius?!"
A voice called out, interrupting him where he lay under the shade of a large tree, hiding from the blistering sun overhead.
"Wonder what it is you think about all the time, acting like some old seer or something." She huffed. "Nobody likes an old seer you know, I definitely don't. So if you want me to like you, Ty, stop acting weird!"
Her cheeks puffed out in mock irritation.
He glanced at her, speechless.
"Good thing I'm not interested in being liked, especially not by you," he muttered.
He didn't mean to say it aloud, but the urge was too strong. Something about her ticked him off.
But could he even call her her?
Sure, she looked like an eight-year-old girl. That however was where the similarities ended. Her skin was a deep, dark green. Tiny fangs peeked out from her lips, still in their growing phase, but prominent enough to be seen. Her entire being screamed one word that hit him hard.
Goblin.
Though unlike the mindless monsters often depicted in RPGs, this one had far more human traits. In fact, the only betrayal of humanity was her beastly appearance and her barbaric living conditions.
The same could be said for him in that aspect.
And as for his appearance?
He wasn't any different.
Also a goblin. Male. Shirtless. Dressed in tattered rags that barely covered his lower body down to his knees. His legs and chest were completely bare.
She, at least, wore a cloth wrapped around her chest and one from her waist to her knees. Modesty? Or practicality? He didn't know.
"You!" she grumbled, clearly irritated. "You're no fun at all. I'm not playing with you anymore!"
He felt the childish urge to smack her on the head, but he reined it in. She was a kid, after all.
"If you don't mind, get lost. I've got more important things to think about."
He needed to plan. He couldn't afford distractions, not in this world.
'Since I died a virgin over thirty... Shouldn't that make me akin to a sage or something?' he mused. 'Wait, no. I was over forty. That should make me a Great Sage! Maybe even something beyond that!'
He chuckled to himself.
Then a thought hit him? Does this world even have magic?
That was a whole other concern.
He didn't ask for reincarnation. He didn't expect it. But now that it had happened, all he could do was hope this world suited him.
'I'm a goblin. Doubt the world matters much to me now.'
Everyone knew how goblins were portrayed in fantasy novels, trash mobs. Fodder. The bottom of the food chain. The kind of enemies players farmed for XP and loot in the early game.
And that was what he reincarnated as?
It didn't take a genius to figure out the kind of future that awaited him.
Bleak. Brutal. And probably short.
He'd likely be spending most of his days just trying not to get killed.
'But aside from that… everything else seems—'
His thoughts trailed off as he looked around.
'Yeah. I'm definitely monster food. No doubt about it.' Just looking at the terrain was enough to set him on edge.
Still, there was no point in panicking.
He'd survived eight years in this form already.
If he could just stay out of trouble and focus on surviving, maybe he could live a few more years.
"What are you thinking about now?!"
The green-skinned girl asked again, now plopping herself down beside him.
He tried to remember her name.
'What was it again? Something along the line of…'
Ah. It clicked.
"Do yourself a favour and learn to mind your business," he said, getting up and dusting off his ragged clothes. "It'll do you good in the future, Rhoda."
He walked off without looking back.
It was genuine advice from him to her.
He had seen a case of a colleague caring too much for another colleague by listening to the sobbing story they had to tell. At the end of the day, the former colleague lowkey turned a slave bitch to the latter colleague.
So for Rhoda, better for her to stay out of people's stories. Better not to get too curious. Sympathy in this world could get you killed.
"Hey, where are you going?" she called, scrambling to her feet. "How could you leave me behind like that?!"
Tyberius groaned, tapping his forehead in frustration.
Rhoda wasn't the listening type.
That, he had now confirmed.