Because Janitor-san Is Not a Hero

The collector noticed himself standing somewhere in the wind stroking his cheeks slightly.

It was because of the light that I opened my eyes and immediately realized it was a cave.

When I looked at the light that plugged in, the world of white and blue was spreading in the distance.

The collector fluttered to the cave entrance to be invited by the sight.

I didn't care for the cold air stabbing my skin or the twinkling cold pain I felt in the back of my nose.

There were endless skies and white mountains.

As I looked up across the sun, something big was flying that didn't seem like a bird.

There was an unusually long white cat-like creature on the tail across the mountain walking wide to the tail.

It seemed to free me from all the clutter.

I could imagine the infirmities, the hardships, but more than that, there was the sentiment that the public, the salaries, the prejudices, the self-esteem, had thrown everything away.

How much would I have done that?

The collector feels cold. That's not a snowmountain-compatible outfit with things like a long black buoy neck shirt above and below gray work clothes, a white towel wrapped around your neck, a cheap analog watch, and sturdy looking blue boots, as I was working as a clerk.

The collector went back to the back of the cave, leaving a feeling of difficulty to get away from it.

Turning back, I found a large Moss Green rucksack sitting in the aisle.

The collector soon realized that it was something prepared for me by the Lord of the Voice.

I thought of the sights and caves outside, and the white space just for my voice, and once again I felt like I was finally convinced that I really came to another world somewhere.

The collector sat down on the spot for now.

And I clung my hand to the mouth of the rucksack unconstitutionally, but nothing.

There's supposed to be a year's worth of water and food and a knife and a magic book, but there's still no way to spin it around the rucksack.

Though I don't think so, the collector thinks.

What exactly is food?

Is it rice or dry bread? Or is it bread?

Thinking about it hit me like a long stick in my hand.

When I took it out as it was, it was something like French bread. If you look closely, it was made into French bread that was baked and hardened like cookies. I could have guessed it would be like portable food.

"Eat this," he said.

A slightly soggy collector's voice echoed in the cave.

Then the portable food came in as much as it cost, and the water came out in barrels. Both the larger knife and the magic textbook came out properly.

Apparently, this rucksack could keep a ton of stuff in it against its appearance.

When the collector rucksacked anything but a knife, he took charge and stood up.

The sun was setting.

Before it got completely dark, I had to secure my bunk.

The wind was still blowing in to sleep in the current aisle.

Hold the knife in your right hand and proceed through the cave.

The width of the dim cave was about two people, and the height was less than one hundred and seventy centimeters. There was room for about thirty centimeters above the head of the collector. There was no more cockerel or anything on the cave walls, and I didn't smell anything but dirt.

The collector could not feel any sign that something was there.

Still proceeded as carefully back as I could.

Fortunately, there were no first inhabitants and they arrived at the deepest end of the cave.

It was a space of nothing like six tatami.

That day, I fell asleep when there was no more light to plug in through the entrance.

It may have been too defenseless, but it was also true that nothing could be done, so the collector reopened and slept.

In the dim, the collector wakes up to the roaring noise.

I slept for not so much last night as it was cold, but now it seemed a little more limp than that.

The zodiac stood up fluttered with his sleeping eyes, and went straight to the aisle as he was invited by the faint shining light.

The view from afar was a blizzard.

It also plugs in the morning sun-like light.

As we proceeded down the aisle, the temperature dropped and the Builder's consciousness awoke in a way that was inversely proportional.

That was when it was more than a dozen steps away, and the caveman, who was about to freeze, flinched.

Think as you return to your room with a quick leg.

We need to do something about the heating and the entrance and, if possible, the lights as soon as possible.

Like when I was in Japan, I might die without it, not without it.

Without it, I die.

That's all.

The collector found out with his own hands.

Survival means death is rolling like a stone right next to it.

That if you don't have the skill to avoid it, you will die quickly.

Returning to the small room of the cave for a small run, the collector pulls a thick encyclopedia-like magic textbook out of the rucksack, making sure it eats in and turns the page.

Fortunately, the paper is thick and not as many pages as the encyclopedia.

The letters are likely to be readable without any problems.

The collector began studying only to survive.