Afterword

“My Daughter Left the Nest and Returned an S-Rank Adventurer”—looking back on it now, that really is a terrible title. Some sticklers might already feel pure hatred just looking at the length of it, and come away with the impression that it’s not even worth flipping through. I can’t say they’re wrong—it’s not like this book is changing anyone’s life. Even so, to anyone who has taken the gamble to pick it up, you have my heartfelt gratitude.

Now then, this is a fantasy—the point being, we get to enjoy playing around with fantastical elements we couldn’t have in reality, and that will leave a certain aftertaste in the reader’s mouth. I don’t really know if it’s right for the author or whatnot to barge in uninvited after the fact and potentially ruin it, but I’ve been asked to write an afterword, and write one I shall.

That said, it’s not like this story has any interesting behind-the-scenes episodes, so I’m having trouble finding the right things to put here. I know writing about what doesn’t exist is the thrill of fantasy, but that is constrained to the story. I’m not going to fabricate some interesting backstory for the novel here.

On top of that, I’ve heard of odd readers who read the afterword before the story. So I’m not even sure I should be discussing the events of the book here. We’re at an impasse, aren’t we?

Anyways, since I’m having trouble using the one thousand words given to me, I’m just going to jot down whatever comes to mind. The book isn’t even finished yet as I’m writing this, so I can’t even say anything about the physical product. Where is this afterword even going in the completed book?

Though the book isn’t around yet, I do still have Master toi8’s illustrations. I’ve received most of the rough illustrations of the characters. Belgrieve isn’t just a youngster with added wrinkles, he was drawn as a genuine middle-aged man, and Angeline is cute as a button. I burn in envy at Belgrieve for being idolized by such a cute daughter and have therefore considered adding a random yandere to stab him in the gut.

Not that I’m actually making any changes to the story because of that. On the contrary, I’m in awe at the master’s wonderful character designs, and I writhe around under my covers wondering if it’s really all right for such fantastic illustrations to be attached to my novel. Then, I get out of bed, open my computer, and look at the illustrations again with a smile. Time flies, and before I realize it, I’ve come down with sleep deprivation, and it hinders my writing. Oh, toi8, what a sinful beast you are. Thank you.

For everyone reading this book, I’m sure eighty percent of you picked it up thanks to Master toi8’s illustrations, while the remaining twenty percent came thanks to the publishing label—especially the efforts of my editors M and M (not a typo). While I offer my deepest gratitude, I’m left wondering if I did anything at all.

This book was originally published online, and it was not submitted to any competitions. I don’t know how it happened, but someone hit me up and made it a book. It’s like a dream, and I fear that the moment I actually hold the book in my hands, I’ll wake up, sigh, and return to my unchanging day-to-day life.

Since it was originally on the internet, I could read reviews of it in real time and watch the rating go up and down. I’m the sort of person who really worries about that; whenever I’m online, I’ll abandon my manuscript to keep refreshing the page. And so, when I actually want to make progress, I’ll head out to a nearby diner. That’s how this afterword was written too. Every little thing just seems to throw me out of whack, and I lose my concentration.

Today, the other customers are all noisily eating and drinking. Having this much white noise actually makes it easier for me to write...

As I tap away at my keyboard, I hear the couple in the next seat over whispering.

“Come to think of it, have you seen the Black-Haired Valkyrie around lately?”

“Oh, I heard she went home for the holidays. Someplace up north.”

What? I came after so long, and she’s gone again. Still, I’m already writing a mix of fact and fiction, so perhaps I’m better off not meeting her.

The master comes over, looking down on me with his surly face.

“What can I get for you?” he asks.

I think for a moment and tell him I want some mulled wine.