I Think I Got Summoned by a Nervous Girl in a Cosplay Convention

Sojiro’s POV

I opened my eyes to darkness.

Not the peaceful kind. Not even the dramatic “see you in the afterlife” kind. No golden gate. No fluffy clouds. No grandma calling me from heaven with a tray of cookies.

Nope.

It was dark, but not silent. There was this weird humming sound, like someone had left a karaoke machine running underwater. Blue light shimmered across the stone floor like someone had spilled a bottle of Gatorade and forgotten to clean it up for 500 years.

I sat up slowly. “Where… the actual breadstick… am I?”

Then I looked down.

I was sitting—sitting!—in the middle of a huge glowing circle. There were symbols everywhere, like someone let a wizard doodle all over the floor. Candles flickered in neat little lines around me. Smoky incense tickled my nose. And the blue light? It was coming from the lines of the circle itself—pulsing, glowing, alive.

I didn’t know if I should be impressed or call the fire department.

“I… I did it,” a voice whispered.

I snapped my head up.

Across from me stood a girl. Maybe around my age, maybe younger—it was hard to tell because she was half-hiding behind her sleeves like she was trying to become part of the fabric. She wore a long, poofy purple dress with silver vines embroidered along the hem. Her long hair covered one eye, and her fingers were nervously twirling a loose thread on her sleeve like it was her personal anti-anxiety device.

She stumbled back when I looked at her, yelping a tiny, “Eep!”

“…Hi?” I said cautiously. “Are you—uh—cosplaying something, or…”

She blinked. “W-what’s… c-cosplay?”

Oh no. Ohhh no.

Did I get kidnapped by a secret cult? Was this an escape room? A prank show?

Wait—was I on another world?

“I… I summoned you…” she whispered.

“…summoned?”

“I s-summoned you. I . A-and you appeared. So that means… you’re the hero.”

She said it like she was accusing me of stealing the last slice of cake.

I stared at her. “Hero?”

She nodded, still half-hiding behind her sleeves.

“You summoned the wrong guy,” I said, raising my hands. “I’m not a hero. I literally just deliver bread. Like. I wake up, I eat stale pandesal if I’m lucky, and I ride my bike around town pretending not to be annoyed at traffic. That’s it. That’s my lore.”

She blinked. “Y-you have a… lore?”

“Oh god,” I muttered. “I am in another world.”

I stood up—carefully avoiding stepping on the glowing lines like they were booby traps—and took a cautious step forward. “Okay. Let’s just rewind. You… what’s your name?”

“M-M-Megan.”

“And you summoned me?”

She nodded again.

“To be… a hero?”

Another nod.

I exhaled and rubbed my face. “Okay. That’s a lot. Is this like, a prank? Are there hidden cameras? Am I dreaming? Did I hit my head when the truck—”

Then it hit me. The truck. The out-of-control truck.

I gasped. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Am I dead?!”

Megan panicked. “N-no! You’re not d-dead!”

“Then how did I get here?!”

“I d-don’t know! I just read the spell! It was supposed to bring a s-strong warrior with a noble heart!”

“And the spell decided me?! The bread boy?!”

“…Maybe the spell… likes carbs?”

I stared at her.

She covered her face again. “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to summon someone useless!”

“Hey!”

“I mean—n-not useless! Just… y-you know, you’re not wearing armor or a sword or glowing wings or anything…”

“I was literally biking five minutes ago!”

“You have good legs.”

“Wha—excuse me?!”

“For the bike! I-I meant for the bike!”

Silence.

More silence.

Then Megan coughed and turned red. “Anyway, um… I summoned you because… our village… is under a curse.”

I crossed my arms. “Let me guess. Evil witch. Crops dying. Cows flying.”

“…Y-you’re wrong…”

She pulled a scroll out of nowhere and opened it dramatically—only to have the wind blow it back into her face. She squeaked, wrestled it like a flailing octopus, and finally held it upright.

“Our village was cursed by the witch Wenalin. People are getting sick. Plants are withering. And the mood is just—super gloomy.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And I’m supposed to fix that?”

“The prophecy says a chosen one will appear in blue light, summoned by a maiden of magic, and he will defeat the darkness.”

“…And your plan was to summon a hero using that circle?”

She nodded proudly.

“Then why do I smell wax and barbecue?”

She blushed. “I… I might’ve used scented birthday candles.”

“Oh great. I’m the Chosen One, brought forth by the power of vanilla frosting.”

I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. “Okay. Listen. Megan, right?”

She nodded.

“I have no powers. No sword. No plan. I didn’t even eat breakfast this morning.”

“I-I can fix that! "

I blinked. “…

"You can have a sword "

“Okay, Megan. This is insane. But if there’s any chance I can get home, or at least not die in a cursed village… I guess I’m stuck here.”

Her eyes sparkled with hope. “So… y-you’ll help us?”

“Sure. But after I figure out where the nearest bathroom is. Because magic or not, this place smells like burnt cinnamon.”

......................

I tried not to stare.

But how could I not? Megan was walking ahead of me, wringing her hands like she just confessed to a murder, and I was following her down a dirt path that looked like it was designed to break ankles.

“This... is the village,” she said, voice barely louder than a cough.

I looked around.

“Huh,” I whispered. “So this is what depression would look like if it were a place.”

The houses were all crooked like they'd gotten tired of standing up straight. Some of them had holes on the roof. The fences looked more like matchsticks glued together. And the people oh no. The people were

“Skinny,” I muttered. “They look like ramen noodles.”

A man was coughing into a rag beside a cart of what I thought was vegetables, but honestly looked more like withered plants pulled out of a garbage bin.

Kids sat barefoot near a dry well.

“Uh… do they eat?” I whispered to Megan.

She looked down guiltily. “Only when we can find a food”

“what do you mean ?”

“Just like what I said We’re under a curse,” she said, whispering like we were in a spy movie. “An evil witch sealed our crops, our water, and our livestock. She feeds on misery. We haven’t had a good harvest in ten years.”

I blinked. “Ten years?! How are you guys not extinct?”

She shrugged like that was a valid response.

We turned another corner, and I nearly choked when I saw what they called a “bakery.” It was literally a wooden box with smoke coming out of it. A woman inside was kneading what might’ve been dough or might’ve been clay I couldn’t tell.

A grandpa passed by pushing a cart. The wheel popped off and rolled straight into a chicken. The chicken didn’t even flinch. I don’t think it had the energy to cluck.

“Okay, okay,” I said, rubbing my temples. “So, Megan. Let me get this straight. You summoned me because I’m supposed to save this village from a witch who’s basically on a diet of sadness?”

She nodded fast.

“And... I was chosen... because?”

“You were glowing in the summoning circle.”

“GLOWING? Girl, that was the truck’s headlights!”

She flinched. “But the spell worked! You’re here, aren’t you?”

“Because I got hit by a TRUCK! You probably summoned me off the road like a Pokémon!”

She looked on the verge of tears, so I stopped ranting. I sighed. “Okay, okay, fine. Let’s say I’m the ‘hero.’ What now? Where do I stay?”

“My house,” she said, turning red. “If that’s okay. We have room. I think.”

When we got to her “house,” I realized it was more like a large shack with a personality. It creaked when the door opened, and I swear I saw a spider waving at me from the ceiling.

The moment we stepped inside, I was greeted by a stampede.

Kids. Everywhere.

There were like, 6 of them. I think. They swarmed Megan like she was a celebrity. A toddler started chewing on my pants. One of the older kids climbed up the wooden shelf like a monkey. A baby was crawling near the fireplace. I had to leap like a ninja to save it from rolling into the flames.

“Welcome to my home,” Megan said, looking down shyly.

Her parents emerged from the back. Her dad was bald and wore a tunic three sizes too big. Her mom was carrying a bowl of soup so thin I could see the bottom of it.

I bowed awkwardly. “Hi im, Sojiro. Nice to meet you all.

Her dad:"Are you the hero?'

“I think you got the wrong file from the universe,” I muttered.

Her mom:"Finally some one gunna save us ! "They're looking at me just like they hoping something and I feel guilty because I have nothing I mean I don't have a power to do that especially to a witch

They offered me food—some strange vegetable soup that tasted like sadness and boiled rainwater—but I didn’t complain. After all, they were kind. And the youngest kid drew a picture of me slaying a stick figure witch with a glowing sword.

Even if I wasn’t a hero, it kinda felt nice to pretend for a while.

Later that night, Megan showed me to a corner of the house where I could sleep. It wasn’t a bed. It was more like... an artistic pile of hay and an itchy blanket.

But I was tired, confused, and still wondering if I was in a coma.

As I lay down, the wind howled outside. The stars blinked in the sky. Somewhere in the distance, a witch probably cackled and hexed someone.

...----------------...

I woke up to the sound of… whispering.

Not the good kind of whispering, like someone planning a surprise party for me. No—this was the creepy, “Is he awake yet?” kind of whispering.

I blinked my eyes open and found sunlight stabbing me right in the face like it had been waiting all night for revenge. My “bed” (pile of hay) had done its job of making my back feel like a bundle of broken breadsticks.

I sat up, rubbed my eyes, and froze.

Right outside my corner, there they were.

Megan. Her parents. The army of small siblings. All of them.

Just… standing there.

Like I was a rare zoo animal and they were waiting for me to do a trick.

“Uh… good morning?” I said slowly, because what else do you say when a family is staring at you like you’re about to reveal the secrets of the universe?

They all exchanged looks, then Megan stepped forward, wringing her sleeves like she was trying to strangle them.

“You’re awake,” she said.

“Yep,” I replied. “Gold star observation. Is there… a reason we’re having a staring contest right now?”

She took a deep breath like she was about to deliver some life-or-death news.

“We have to go to the palace.”

I blinked. “…Why?”

“Because you need to register yourself.”

I stared at her, waiting for the part where she explained how this was somehow my problem.

She continued, “If they see you in the kingdom without a title… they’ll think you’re an enemy.”

I tilted my head. “Okay, back up. A ‘title’? Like… Mr.? Sir? Duke of Bread Delivery?”

Her dad cleared his throat. “In the kingdom, everyone is registered under a role—farmer, merchant, guard, healer, mage… hero.”

I pointed at myself. “And what exactly am I supposed to register as? ‘Confused guy who wants to go home’?”

Megan’s mom frowned. “You came from the summoning circle. You’ll be listed as the hero. It’s the only way to keep you safe from suspicion.”

Suspicion? Safe?

I scratched the back of my neck. “So… let me get this straight. If I don’t have this ‘title,’ and some random guard sees me walking around, he’ll… what? Arrest me?”

Megan looked away. “…Or execute you.”

I almost choked on my own tongue. “EXECUTE?!”

“That’s the rule,” her dad said matter-of-factly, like he was talking about grocery shopping. “Anyone without a title is considered a spy or an outsider.”

I threw my hands in the air. “Okay, wow. Love the hospitality here. ‘Welcome to the kingdom! Papers, please, or we cut your head off!’”

Megan flinched. “I’m sorry… but we have to hurry. The palace opens for registrations in the morning.”

I stared at her. “You’re telling me your kingdom has business hours for not being executed?”

Her little brother, who had been gnawing on a piece of bread, piped up, “They close before lunch break.”

“Oh, of course they do,” I muttered. “Wouldn’t want to miss their midday snack while the foreign guy gets publicly decapitated.”

Megan sighed and tugged on my sleeve. “Please. Just… trust me. We’ll go to the palace, register you as the hero, and then you’ll be safe.”

I rubbed my temples. “Fine. But I swear, if they make me fill out some weird medieval paperwork, I’m writing ‘Bread’ in every box.”

Her mom handed me something that looked like a half-torn brown cloak. “Wear this on the way. You’ll draw less attention.”

I stared at it. “…This smells like sheep.”

“It is sheep,” her dad said.

Great. I was going to the palace, possibly to avoid execution, wearing a sheep-scented cloak. This day was already shaping up to be a masterpiece.

When I stepped outside, the village looked just as miserable as yesterday. People glanced at me from their doorways—some curious, some suspicious. The dirt path to the main road stretched ahead, leading toward the far-off silhouette of the palace on the hill.

Megan walked beside me, still wringing her sleeves. “We’ll take the market road. It’s faster, but… don’t talk to anyone.”

“Got it. Don’t talk. Avoid suspicion. Try not to get beheaded. Easy checklist.”

Somewhere deep inside, a part of me still hoped I was dreaming. Because otherwise…

I had just woken up in a sheep cloak to march toward a castle for the privilege of not dying.

Best. Morning. Ever.

A/N: Hi to you btw im looking a character for this story if you interested to be part just comment your name thankyou.

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