I Am Not a Mastermind, But They Think I Planned Everything

Chapter 1: Chapter 1: A Terrible Start



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Chapter 1: A Terrible Start

Jian woke to the unpleasant sensation of something cold and wet sliding down his forehead. His eyes flickered open to a pair of large, empty eyes staring back at him. A donkey stood over him, its snout dripping with saliva.

For a long moment, neither moved. Then, the donkey let out a loud, obnoxious bray directly into his face.

Jian shot up, coughing and wiping at his forehead. "What the—?!"

The donkey snorted and trotted away, its job apparently done. Jian was left sitting in the mud, dazed and confused.

He took in his surroundings. Narrow streets. Uneven cobblestone. Wooden stalls lined the roads, merchants shouting about fresh fish and good steel. People in simple tunics and rough cloaks bustled past, going about their business. A woman balanced a basket of vegetables on her head. A blacksmith hammered away at a glowing piece of metal. The air smelled of sweat, damp straw, and something deeply unpleasant—probably the donkey.

This was not home.

Jian stood slowly, brushing dirt from his ragged clothes. He glanced down at himself. A rough linen shirt, patched trousers, and shoes that had definitely seen better days. His hands were calloused, his fingernails caked with dirt. Not a great look.

He took a deep breath. Alright. Let's think.

His memories were a blur. He remembered his name—Jian. He remembered living in a world with paved roads, electric lights, and indoor plumbing. But how had he gotten here? Kidnapped? Drugged? Some weird reincarnation scenario?

There was no time to figure it out. He needed a plan. Step one: assess the situation.

Jian checked his pockets. Nothing. Not even a single coin.

Step two: find food, shelter, and information.

Before he could get any further, a loud commotion broke out down the street.

A man, wild-eyed and panting, was sprinting full speed through the marketplace, clutching a loaf of bread to his chest as if his life depended on it. Behind him, three armored guards shoved people aside as they charged after him, their heavy boots slamming against the cobblestone.

"Thief! Stop him!" one of them bellowed.

Jian had no intention of getting involved. He took a step back, pressing himself against a wooden cart loaded with cabbages. He was just about to slip away when—

The thief locked eyes with him.

Jian barely had time to process what was happening before the man hurled the loaf of bread straight into his arms.

It landed with a soft thud against his chest. Jian instinctively caught it. The thief gave him a brief, triumphant grin, then bolted into a side alley and vanished.

Jian stood frozen, blinking at the bread in his hands.

The guards skidded to a stop in front of him. There was a long, awkward silence.

"You there," the lead guard said, his eyes narrowing. "Drop the bread."

Jian held it up as if that would somehow explain everything. "I—uh—this isn't—"

"He's an accomplice!" another guard shouted.

Jian's survival instincts kicked in. He had three options:

1. Try to explain.

2. Drop the bread and hope they let him go.

3. Run.

The smart thing would have been to explain. Maybe the guards would listen. Maybe they'd be reasonable.

Jian chose Option 3.

With all the grace of a man who had never done a single athletic thing in his life, he turned on his heel and bolted.

"Stop him!"

The guards took off after him.

Jian weaved through the marketplace, knocking over baskets of fruit and dodging startled merchants. A butcher swung a cleaver at him—not maliciously, just startled—and he ducked under a wooden stall, only to crash straight into a cart of fish. Slippery scales and fins went flying as he scrambled back to his feet.

"Sorry!" he yelped, slipping on an eel.

"Get back here!" one of the guards roared.

Jian was not a runner, but fear had a way of improving performance. He skidded around a corner, nearly colliding with a man carrying a stack of clay pots. The man cursed as Jian ducked under his outstretched arms and kept going.

The problem with not knowing where you are is that you don't know where to run. Jian dashed down an alleyway, only to find it was a dead end. A wooden fence stood at the far end, far too high to climb.

He turned. The guards were already there, blocking the only way out.

"Well," Jian muttered. "That's not great."

The lead guard stepped forward, drawing his sword. "You thought you could run, thief?"

Jian held up his hands. "Okay, hold on—this is a misunderstanding. I didn't steal anything! The other guy threw it at me!"

The guards were unimpressed.

"That's the worst excuse I've ever heard," one muttered.

Jian had exactly zero combat skills. No magic. No weapons. No system to bail him out. He was about to be arrested—maybe worse—all because of a stupid loaf of bread.

As he braced for impact, the wooden fence behind him exploded.

Splinters flew everywhere. Jian ducked just in time as a massive horse burst through the wreckage, its rider clad in dark, flowing robes. The horse reared, knocking one of the guards flat on his back.

"Move!" the rider barked.

Jian, having no better ideas, moved.

The rider grabbed him by the collar and hauled him onto the horse in one swift motion. Jian barely had time to process what was happening before they were galloping full speed through the alleyway, the guards shouting in confusion behind them.

"Hold on," the rider ordered.

Jian did exactly that, gripping onto the stranger for dear life as they tore through the streets.

This was not how he expected his first day in this world to go.

End of Chapter 1


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