There was a specific kind of madness that came from having everything especially if you wanted nothing.
Ren sat at the edge of the mansion's garden, ankles crossed, robe flaring out like some overly dramatic noble-turned-philosopher. He stared at a koi pond so pristine it probably had a maintenance staff of its own. The fish were colorful.
It had been nearly a month since his arrival. The shock had long since worn off. The weirdness too. By now, the whole "you've been transported to another world" thing had dulled into something oddly mundane.
He sighed and plucked a leaf from the hedge behind him.
"This is boring," he muttered.
And that was the heart of it. Not the pond. Not the fish. Not the spring weather. No, the issue was systemic. Existential. It was lack of action.
He'd been isekai'd—he was supposed to be living a plotline.
Where was the dire prophecy? The mysterious mentor who dies after giving him an old sword? The attractive but emotionally distant party member with a tragic backstory? Where was the grind? The failure? The effort?
All he had was comfort.
"I have to fix this."
And so, like any rational man burdened with too much power and too little sense, he went to tell his butler.
...
..
.
Riel was in the sitting room, reviewing paperwork with his usual robotic elegance. Ren stormed in with the confidence of a man who had decided to manufacture his own mid-life crisis arc.
"Riel," Ren said, dramatically tossing his robe back like a cape. "I'm going on a journey."
Riel blinked.
Then blinked again.
Then, very politely, set down his pen. "Of course, sire. May I ask where?"
"I don't know," Ren said, with far too much enthusiasm for someone announcing deliberate vagueness. "That's the point."
"…I see." Riel folded his hands neatly. There was a long pause. Then he cleared his throat. "Will you be requiring a carriage, sire?"
"No."
"A full retinue?"
"Absolutely not. Well maybe one or two." Ren replied.
"…Weapons?"
Ren blinked. "Right. I guess I should bring something sharp."
"I recommend at least a sword," Riel said, rising to make a note. "And perhaps armor."
"Maybe," Ren said, already thinking about how heavy that sounded. "But keep it light."
Riel opened his mouth, closed it, then tried a different tactic. "If I may, sire. What is the purpose of this… journey?"
Ren hesitated. Then sat down in the chair across from him.
"Purpose," he echoed. "That's the word, huh?"
He glanced out the window, where the sun beamed down like an overzealous spotlight.
"I guess… I just want to feel something. I'm finding purpose."
He paused.
"I don't want to live a dream if it means I'm sleepwalking through it."
Riel was quiet. Then he nodded. "Understood. I shall make the necessary arrangements."
...
..
.
The next two days were a flurry of overly careful preparation.
Riel packed light—by Ren's standards. No gold bars. Just enough gold coins to bankrupt a mid-sized city. A few enchanted items. One extremely comfortable cloak. A map he didn't plan to use.
Ren's letters were sealed and delivered: one for the royal family, one for the local guild, others to nobility and other concerning parties.
On the third morning, a teleportation circle was drawn in the eastern courtyard. It would send him to a randomized location. Riel tried to go against this but he obviously had little say in the matter.
Riel stood beside the circle, holding a scroll with travel notes and a disapproving expression only a lifelong butler could perfect. Beside him stood a tall, silent figure. He looked like someone who had never smiled in his life and didn't plan to start now. Sword on his back. Scars on his arms.
"You'll be safe with him," Riel said, gesturing to the human fortress. "Leo will protect you on your journey. He does not speak much, but he's exceptionally competent."
Ren looked Leo up and down. He was in great hands. He stepped onto the circle. Leo followed. Riel held out a hand. "Sire. Do return in one piece."
And in a flash of light, Ren vanished.