Surviving as a Trash Bard in a Game

I stared blankly at the ceiling.

The first floor of the Adventurer’s Guild was a bit noisy. Suddenly, I felt the urge to escape from the sound.

It had barely been an hour since I put down my instrument, yet my fingers were already itching to play again. It was like an addict’s craving.

It might sound a bit funny, but I seemed to be addicted to the sound of my own playing.

Honestly, the drinking party on the first floor was quite loud, but… that wasn’t the main reason.

Just self-indulgence…? I can play like this, it’s amazing—that kind of feeling.

I played the same song over and over again.

The one I had heard in the forest.

Forgetting how to stop, I continued playing until the skin on my fingers peeled and my fingertips ached with every pluck of the strings.

‘…It hurts.’

It didn’t take long to remember how to stop. The power of pain was greater than I thought.

I kept playing until my body was sore… why did I feel this way?

I still felt like something was missing. Something unfulfilled.

Only then did I start to think about playing. Why did I play? I wasn’t interested in music or instruments, so why did playing suddenly become enjoyable?

It didn’t make sense.

I had declared to the mysterious woman that I would survive as a “bard,” but that didn’t mean I would survive as a performer.

The path given to me happened to be that of a bard, and I chose it. The reason I wanted to become something special was greater than the reason I wanted to play.

Only then did I realize what I wanted.

I lifted my head and faced myself.

All bards need attention and are beings who desire attention. That’s what she said.

Becoming foolish, losing ambition, and even the meaning of playing fading, the bard profession still firmly maintained its identity.

‘…Attention seeker.’

Yes. The reason why something felt unfulfilled no matter how much I played was… because there was no audience.

Realizing the reason, I immediately began to rationalize.

I had been moving according to the principle of finding a safe job in this world and wanting to earn as much money as possible, so I had been ignoring the strange option of playing in front of an audience.

‘Well, I can make money by playing, like busking.’

It didn’t make sense. But I wasn’t looking for a rational reason. I just needed an excuse to play.

Yes. I want… attention now.

I don’t know why. Maybe I’m being consumed by the character. Maybe my intelligence has dropped so low that my mind is messed up.

Just.

Yeah. People don’t always need a reason for everything they do.

Sometimes you just have to choose what you want to do because you want to do it.

Right?

I made up my mind and finished rationalizing.

Now all that was left for me to do was to grab my lute and show the audience the song I had been playing mindlessly.

***

I stepped on the stairs and took a step forward. With each step down, my chest felt like it was floating higher.

Fear disappears.

I could feel people’s gazes, their attention focused on me.

‘A strange sense of elation, excitement. This feeling that I can’t hide is definitely anticipation… right?’

The audience is looking at me. Just by existing, I can gather people’s attention to one point. I had the talent, the power to do that.

I know that my eyes are sparkling pink again.

Skyler told me to hide those eyes, but I had no intention of hiding them. At least not now, not at this moment.

It was a stupid choice, a stupid thought. But that’s what I decided. I’ve had more than enough experience living while hiding something.

‘My back feels light.’

There’s something many people misunderstand about the title of a minstrel.

Minstrels originally have two names. The first is “bard,” which means a singer. The other is “Minstrel,” which means a jester.

Right now, I was a bard.

So, I had to sing.

The days when they were grandly welcomed in city-states and even when they played in the middle of a war, swords and arrows would avoid them, are long gone.

Now, they are just beings who occasionally get called to play at small taverns, festivals, and events, or to make people laugh.

Yet, many bards still sing.

‘—Why do I know about this history?’

Well, is it okay?

It’s not a big deal.

Abandoning hesitation, I headed straight for the empty corner of the tavern.

A dimly lit corner where even the ceiling lights didn’t reach, a neglected corner without a proper table or chairs, I gathered people’s attention.

And then, I struggled to move a nearby table to the corner. I placed a chair on top of the table.

But I lacked the strength. I tried to move it, but it wouldn’t budge; I tried to lift it, but it wouldn’t rise.

In the end, I looked at the others. The adventurers exchanged glances for a moment, then got up and helped me.

My eyes stung a little. When I closed them, tears came out.

I wiped around my eyes with my sleeve. Fortunately, no one seemed to have seen it. …Though I think one person might have seen me, it wasn’t someone I needed to worry about.

Skyler was looking at me.

I looked at him and just smiled.

I raised my hand and waved slightly. A greeting.

‘Hello.’

His expression furrowed.

No answer came back.

Not long after, Skyler took out a scroll from his pocket, immediately channeled magic into it, and burned it. Then he avoided my eyes.

‘…Bright light, divine power?’

It doesn’t matter.

Now it’s time to wait.

As I looked around blankly, the stage was completed.

I carefully moved a candle that was on the table and placed it on top. Then, I sat on the chair on the table.

I crossed my legs. I carefully placed the lute on my crossed legs. I felt its weighty presence.

Checking the strings, I plucked them one by one.

Strings and frets were all normal.

The tempo is Allegro.

Everyone looked at me with eyes sparkling like children. I looked into their eyes. Those who met my gaze focused on me, entranced.

It was satisfying. I wore a faint smile.

They smiled as well, as if possessed by a demon.

There was still one spectator who didn’t smile, who avoided my gaze, who didn’t look at me. One sharply protruding spectator.

It was Skyler.

…He’ll see me eventually anyway.

I started playing.

#♩♫♫♫ㅡ

#♩

It seems slow at first, but the tempo gradually increases.

♪♬♬♪♪ㅡ

♫♬♬♬♪ㅡ

I definitely don’t know this song. But for some reason, my fingers are moving.

The moment I question how I’m playing this, the performance will end. So, I don’t ask any questions or have any doubts. I just empty my mind and focus on my senses and memory.

I reach for the memory engraved not in my head, but in this body.

My fingers danced freely across the six strings.

ø♫ㅡ

Time passed, and the performance ended.

‘Applause.’

It’s a song that’s too good to be played at a rural adventurer’s guild. Since you’ve heard such a high-class song that’s above your level, at least take the money out of your wallets. If you don’t have money, at least move your hands busily.

Clap.

With one signal.

A sound loud enough to make my ears ring filled the air.

No, to be precise… I couldn’t hear it.

My ears were muffled.

People were shouting. And my ears weren’t strong enough to take in such a loud sound.

So weak.

But not weak on stage.

I have to finish it.

I stood up from the chair and steadied myself.

I bowed to the audience who were clapping for me and gracefully descended to the floor. Finally, I was at the same level as them.

“…Ah.”

I let out a sigh, and one of the adventurers approached me with a questioning look and asked.

“What’s wrong?”

“I played such a performance, but there’s no money.”

The adventurer stared at me blankly, then burst into laughter.

The other adventurers who heard this also laughed.

My ears were muffled again.

“Why are you laughing?”

“We don’t have money, but how about a drink?”

“That… sounds good.”

Offering a drink probably meant they would pay for the snacks and drinks, at least. I guess I can have a free dinner. Not a bad deal.

I received a new wooden cup, and another adventurer poured beer into it.

I took a sip.

‘…Is this the first time I’m drinking with this body? It stings my tongue a little.’

Ah, what was my alcohol tolerance again?

Don’t tell me alcohol tolerance is also proportional to my health stat…

My head throbbed.

***

I opened my eyes.

My head is clear.

My thoughts are racing.

I looked around.

People were looking at me with concerned eyes.

Their expressions were blank.

Empty. As if their souls had been snatched away by someone else.

Among the worried eyes, I saw familiar golden ones. I’ve seen those eyes many times before.

“…Skyler.”

“Yes.”

“Mirror.”

“…You collapsed after just one drink, and now you’re ordering me around.”

“You’re a good person. Just do me this favor. We split the quest reward 8:2, didn’t we?”

“Sigh… Here you go.”

Skyler grumbled but handed me a mirror.

I could feel a lot of things he wanted to say from his expression. I could guess even without hearing them. It would be nagging.

I don’t understand why he cares so much about me when we’re just passing acquaintances. He was a truly incomprehensible kid.

I looked into the mirror Skyler handed me.

My reflection in the mirror… was a little different from the one I had created.

The round, sparkling eyes had turned a bit sharp. The light in them was gone, and the eyes were dead. They were still pink, but a darker shade.

I grabbed the lute that was lying nearby and leaned it against the wall.

I sat back down and picked up the cup.

A cool sensation went down my throat.

My insides also burned.

I slowly began to recall what I had done a little while ago.

‘What on earth did I…’

—do?