I Became the Final Subjugation Target of That Era’s Light Novel

Right after I figured out the situation, I wondered if I received some kind of reward for being a good person.

I had thought while looking in the mirror that I wished I had been born a bit better looking, or if I could have been born as someone a bit more capable.

I’ve even begged to skip this life and move on to the next one.

If I think about it, ending this life without any pain and being sent to the next could be considered a fair compensation, right?

……

However, when I see that I was just dumped in an empty house, I suspect that this deity has made a huge misunderstanding.

The room, which couldn’t be called spacious, looked too small for a family to live in. But if I considered it as living alone, I could manage to get by.

I saw the glow of a streetlight outside the window. The orange light allowed me to have a rough idea of the surroundings even in the middle of the night.

A residential area.

But the vibe of this neighborhood was different from the ones I often saw.

There were no red brick villas or small houses with tiled roofs, just a bunch of two-story houses.

And they all looked somewhat unfamiliar.

If I listened closely, I could hear a dog barking from way off. I could hear cars passing by, and the faint sound of a TV from someone’s house that probably had their window open.

Indeed, it wasn’t the language I was used to. Strangely enough, I understood the contents of the conversation.

“……”

I fell away from the window.

Is it just my feeling? Or is it because the place I’m in has changed? I feel like I’ve gotten smaller.

No, I’ve definitely gotten smaller. With the area I used to be in changed so drastically, how could my body remain the same?

“Mirror.”

As I muttered that, a girl’s voice slipped out of my mouth, which sent a little chill down my spine.

Looking around again, the room was empty, devoid of anything. Not even a simple piece of furniture could be seen.

Just a few pieces of clothing were scattered in the corner, and next to them was a bag.

That disgustingly neat arrangement gave me goosebumps.

Did someone do this out of consideration?

“Mirror.”

I muttered again. I didn’t even know why.

Only then did I start to feel a bit scared. I was trapped in a place I didn’t know, in a body of someone completely unfamiliar to me.

Snore.

Someone next door seemed to be snoring. It looked like an old house, considering the walls seemed as thin as paper.

Ironically, that snoring sound oddly brought me back to reality. I didn’t know anything, but here I was.

Right, first things first, the mirror.

Except for the window, the only thing remotely close to a door was a sliding door that I opened to find a hallway and kitchen right in front of me.

Though old, the sink and cabinets were neatly arranged. It was the first piece of furniture that looked like actual furniture since I got here.

Next to the door leading to the hallway, there was a small room.

Opening it, I found a bathroom that crammed a toilet and bathtub into one.

The bathtub was square-shaped. Was I supposed to sit cross-legged in there? It looks like someone desperately wanted to use a bathtub that didn’t fit this bathroom.

No, more importantly, the mirror.

I looked for the switch next to the door. It was that old-fashioned kind of switch that I had seen back at my grandma’s house; the one you pull up and down.

The light in the bathroom was, of course, an incandescent bulb.

Even with the light on, the bathroom felt eerie and damp, and when I looked into the mirror, I flinched and shook.

The girl in the mirror was looking straight at my face.

Her eyes were a black that looked like you could stare into a well. Her skin was as white as paper.

Long hair covered her face.

You might know the character Sadako, famous for crawling out of a well in that TV show.

She had a hairstyle like that, but her face peeked through the strands of hair.

When I raised my hand, the girl slowly raised hers too. When I gently touched my cheek with my fingertips, she touched her own cheek. It stung a little when I pinched it.

If there was a ghost in the mirror and that ghost wasn’t mimicking my actions, then this appearance was indeed my own.

And it even hurt, so it wasn’t a dream.

And the hair… it was long. Almost down to my thighs?

It was only now that I realized my upper body was nearly covered by my hair—only then I noticed I was completely naked.

It could be described as a bit frail. A scrawny body.

Carefully pushing the hair away from my face, I finally saw that behind it was a girl’s face that could also be described as a bit skinny.

Was she in her teens? If she were a junior in middle school, she’d be in her third year, or in high school, a first-year or about to become a second-year.

Yet, that girl was me.

“……”

I let go of the hair I had been holding.

As the black, long hair fell back over my face, I became a ghostly figure once again.

*

I had no intention of going out anywhere all night.

I hadn’t even adapted to the situation, and if I went out into who knows where, what if I lost my way? With nothing else in my possession at this point, it might be safer to wait until daylight and scout the surroundings thoroughly.

For now, I put on the clothes that were in the room.

The outfit was a sailor uniform.

And since both were black, I didn’t see it at first, but there was a bra and panties too—underneath the sailor uniform.

What kind of sense does this even make?

I struggled for a while before managing to put on the bra. I had no confidence it fit properly. All I could do was put it on as comfortably as possible within my limits. It felt a bit suffocating, nonetheless.

The black sailor uniform had red ribbons.

What can I say? It’s either traditional or outdated.

In reality, it was a clothing style rarely seen in daily life.

Was it for cosplay? Or some unique sense of fashion?

The strap of the bag I discovered didn’t take long to come undone.

Glancing inside, it resembled a satchel from student days in older Japanese anime.

Sitting on the floor, I rummaged through the bag, and out came a notebook labeled “Student Diary,” a wallet with a bit of cash, a bankbook, a phone, and a charger.

…Not a smartphone, but an old flip phone they used to call them.

Looking at the student diary with Japanese characters written on it—I have no idea how I could distinguish them—this clothing I was wearing was indeed a uniform.

The first page of the student diary had a picture of the face I saw in the mirror earlier. Strangely, the hair covered the center of my face, and it looked slightly tidier than it did a moment ago.

Is it even okay to take a picture like this? Is this a proof photo?

For a moment, I doubted whether it was some kind of merchandise, but that wasn’t the issue now.

What mattered was the name written below the photo.

Kurosawa Kotone (黒沢琴音).

I didn’t know if this name was decent or not. After all, I had never been Japanese. I just let it be.

The diary also had an address for the school and here too. The fact that it was in Tokyo was something I could welcome, but the city part of Tokyo was different.

I had no clue how far that was.

If only I had a smartphone to do some searching.

Did that deity have some bad taste or something?

As I closed the student diary, I caught sight of something from the gap where my uniform was sliding down my skinny arm.

When I rolled my sleeve up, something I hadn’t noticed at first caught my eye… a tattoo?

The reason I couldn’t be sure this was a tattoo was that I had no way of knowing if it would come off or not. It would have been nice if someone could force a tutorial on me, but that didn’t exist in this world.

On the underside of my left palm, a spot perfect for scratching while taking notes, was a scribble of… a pentagram.

Inside the circle, there was a pentagram along with some unknown letters swirling around it.

A wave of reality hit me.

I hadn’t even carved this myself.

…Is this some kind of delusional phase? Is there a black dragon sealed in my left arm or something?

All I could do was wish that this wasn’t a tattoo but just something drawn with a ballpoint pen.

Letting out a huge sigh, I returned the student diary to the bag, and this time, I picked up the phone.

Holding the flat smartphone felt oddly weird after such a long time holding a classic design like this.

The color looked like a metallic silver, too old-fashioned.

But curiously, it didn’t seem worn out at all. Looking at its production year, it had to be at least 15 years old.

As I quietly inspected the phone, I suddenly flipped it open.

The wallpaper was black.

And across it, in white letters, it displayed the time: 00:13 PM.

The date was April 13.

The year was 2004.

I quietly closed the phone again.

Then I closed my eyes and let out a small sigh.

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