Ch. 1: Panty on Head Retarded

7:25 am. I recline in my chair and sip my morning coffee. It’s one of the few pleasures I can still enjoy in this daily life of mine. Crowds are clamoring all around me, and multiple college-aged students are focused on the screens in front of them. Poor saps. Some of them already had their third cup of coffee next to them. I took comfort in knowing that others had it worse, and took another sip from my mug. I wrinkled a brow before adding another bag of sugar.

7:27. The new author I should be meeting should be here anytime now. Whoever they were, they weren’t leaving the best of first impressions by coming in after me. That was fine though. What mattered most was that the story they brought in was something that was legitimately good. I pulled a bottle out my bag and poured some of the clear liquid into a small glass. Perfect timing. A tall fellow wrapped in a thick scarf and a heavy coat waved to me. With this I was ready to start my day.

“Mr. Editor?”

His voice was higher than expected, catching me off guard. No matter. I stood up and offered a handshake.

“Please, just call me Ed. Mr. Author I presume?” (Editor)

He shook my hand and took off his, or rather her, scarf with a wry smile.

“Ms. actually. It’s a common misconception given my pen name.” (Author)

“Apologies nonetheless. Please, sit.” (Editor)

I waved one of the waitresses over and Ms. Author ordered herself a large iced coffee with no ice. Why it was still an iced coffee despite not having ice anymore bothered me, but wasn’t something of concern today. We were here to talk business.

“Mind if I ask what the shotglass is for?” (Author)

She was looking at the glass of clear liquid I’d poured before. The employees used to give me dirty looks, but they were used to it by now.

“If I’m lucky, you won’t have to figure out today. So, I hear your last work did pretty well. Adventures of the Eurofu … was it?” (Editor)

“You’re judging me aren’t you?” (Author)

“No no, definitely not.” (Editor)

I was definitely judging, but I kept my thoughts to myself.

“So, what story did you bring in today?” (Editor)

She pulled out a rather thick manuscript and handed it to me. Handwritten. That was pretty rare these days. Maybe she was one of the old fashioned authors? If so, that might not be a bad sign.

“Mind if you give me a quick synopsis off the bat?” (Editor)

She nodded.

“So my main character is a sixteen year old highschool boy with a jaded onlook on his life.” (Author)

That covered 90% of the recent works I’ve read, but still not a bad start.

“Yes?” (Editor)

“His family runs a small sewing business and his mother died at an early age, leaving him under the care his grandparents who have the hobbies of blacksmithing and cooking which the main character picks up himself. The main character loves his grandparents, but craves his overbearing father’s affection which he never gets.” (Author)

“Okay, not a bad settup.” (Editor)

“So one day while he’s in class, the school gets attacked by terrorists.” (Author)

“Okay?” (Editor)

“And the terrorists introduce themselves as Australian Nazis that want to liberate the earth of his kind.” (Author)

“O-okay?” (Editor)

Points for originality, but … why Australian? No no, I should let her continue.

“So his entire class gets gunned down by the AuNazis.” (Author)

“AuNazis being short for Australian Nazis?” (Editor)

“Yes. AuNazis being Australian Nazis.” (Author)

“Wait. So does he die?” (Editor)

No no… it was too quick to judge. There was no way.

“Yep. He gets gunned down protecting the pretty class president, but she dies anyways. So his soul shows up in front of god who says he’s going to be reincarnated into another world and asks him to choose a power.” (Author)

I took the first shot of alcohol and refilled the glass. Damn it. It was going so well.

“Umm…” (Author)

“Don’t mind me. Go on. I insist.” (Editor)

“So he wakes up in a castle with black walls naked. He doesn’t recognize anyone” (Author)

“Let me guess. The demon lord is loli and she falls in love with him?” (Editor)

“I-I don’t think I mentioned a demon lord yet, but yes, you guessed correctly.” (Author)

I took another shot as she stared at me with concern. I ignored her and refilled my cup to the brim.

“Is it the size of his penis? Is that why he’s naked?” (Editor)

“N-no it was because he had black hair and brown eyes which are worshiped by the demonkin…” (Author)

“...” (Editor)

“And … and the size of his... jewels” (Author)

I massaged my temples and tried to convince myself that everything was ok.

“Nevermind that, what happens next.” (Editor)

“So they clothe him and convince him to infiltrate human society so that he can send them information for the demonkin country’s safety.” (Author)

“... so he decides to become an adventurer and goes to the adventurer guild.” (Editor)

“T-that’s right” (Author)

“And when he tried to sign up, Fodder #1 decides to pick a fight with the newbie MC.” (Editor)

“Yeah…” (Author)

“Lor and behold. Newbie wrecks the silver ranked adventurer and catches the eye of the guildmaster.” (Editor)

“Even the adventurer rank…” (Author)

“The female receptionist falls in love with his stren- its not his dick this time is it?” (Editor)

“N-not this time.” (Author)

“Well she falls in love with his strength and catching the eye of the guildmaster loops him into all kinds of problems, but the MC manages to curry the guildmaster’s favor through food. Let me guess. Cake? No, not cliche enough. Pudding.” (Editor)

Ms. Author looked like she was about to cry after that, but the two shots of vodka certainly helped me maintain my dignity as an unrepentant asshole.

“So if I made him a blacksmith…” (Author)

I’m not sure what kind of face I had on that caused her to flinch back, but I’m sure it was some kind of mix between seeing someone shitting on the sidewalk and the face of a father disappointed in their NEET son.

“As if we don’t have enough isekai blacksmiths. At least make it a tailor.” (Editor)

“Yes…” (Author)

I let out a sigh and reached out to shake her hand.

“We’ll talk again tomorrow. I’ll glance over the manuscript and give some basic feedback over email. Have a basic outline ready by the next time we meet.” (Editor)

She shook my hand, but her shoulders were still slumped as she walked out. No matter, an author without the ability to take valid criticism regardless of how harsh wasn’t someone capable of succeeding in this industry. I took the third shot of the day and downed my coffee. I called out to the waitress to get me a bagel or two. I had exactly an hour thirty to sober up before the next author got here.

* * *

7:26 am. I sat at the same table and had the marked up manuscript in front of me. My bag was still zipped up and I waved at the tall woman at the door. She caught my eye and walked over with a wide smile. Good. Looks like she had a thicker hide than I thought. She was carrying a stack of papers which caused me to raise a brow. A new manuscript of this length and this quick was frankly impressive. I glanced at the first page.

7:28. I unzipped my bag, pulled out a bottle, poured myself a shot, and downed it in one go. The title was burned in my retinas even as the alcohol stung at my throat.

Transported to Another World: I became a Panty Tailor?