Tch, no one would believe I saw an angel… they surely just thought I looked like a madman. Arata steps out of the church with Ravenna following him close behind, “Hey Ravenna, so like no one can see you right?”

“Uh, yeah? Why are you asking that? Do you need something?” Ravenna looks at him with curious eyes.

No one? Sweet! I’m gonna be rich! “I’m going to make so much money through playing blackjack, let’s go hit the casino,” Arata explains with a new hint of excitement in his voice.

“Really? I finally get to leave that theater after 495 years just to help you cheat?” Ravenna lets out an exhausted sigh.

Ravenna continues, “That’s the first thing you think of? What about sleeping? I guess it beats you having to get a job, go for it, Arata. Let’s hit the casino then.”

Arata clears his throat, “Oh? You said you’d help me however you can. Is it above an angel to cheat? I gotta earn some cash.”

Arata stands outside the casino with a bit of hesitance, wondering if he’ll bring trouble to himself. The building is a sketchy location. However, inside it’s quite welcoming, tidy, social, and there’s enough money flowing for tables to be set up with waitresses in suggestive outfits delivering booze to customers.

Money! Here I come, finally, something is going my way in this horrid isekai! Arata gets some poker chips and heads over to a table to make his bets.

Ravenna is now really into this, a gambling addict all the way, “We’ve got to win this… our final battle, Arata! Do not falter in the face of such horrors of poverty!”

Ravenna begins to perform a ritual, four pieces of bread are placed in the corners of the room as she murmurs a strange phrase. Before she approaches the table with pissed off patrons, clearly jealous of Arata’s earnings.

Not even an hour passed, and Arata was a couple of gibbles more wealthy. Unfortunately, he couldn’t bet his full moon since it was past the table limit. Cheapskates, lemme bet more. I wanna make some money!

 Even Ravenna seemed to be eager to keep the winning streak going, breathing down the unsuspecting dealer’s neck. She seemed disappointed when, finally, someone just had to come and ruin Arata’s fun.

A muscular man explains to Arata, “Sir, we request that you leave. You are no longer allowed to play here. If you could give us your name so we can make sure you’re on our ban list for life.”

Arata slowly says, “Arata-” before he dashes out of the establishment. He chuckles; the look on his face is pure, unadulterated euphoria. So what if I got banned? I made my cash.

“Ravenna! That was perfect, hahahaha, aww~ Boohoo, poor little casino getting scammed back.” Arata’s laugh is hearty, as a mother tells their son to avert his eyes from the madman staring at Arata darts across the street, talking to the air. 

Ravenna, however, appears to mimic his joy before asking, “Why don’t you get yourself a nicer place to stay for the night then? We’re right next to the inner wall, head right through into where the rich people live, then!”

Sometimes she can give good advice, money is the best, maybe I can just live here forever. The inner city was much more lavish, clean, yet all the buildings were in a similar style. One different thing, however, was the contents of the buildings.

Arata spotted a nice bakery; his last meal had been disappointing, so he should treat himself right? This is going to be the good-quality food, right?

“Arata, you are going to pay me, right? Buy me a slice of apple pie.” Ravenna glares at him with mock killing intent.

She’s scary, obsessing over a sweet tooth like that. Arata first begins to question her, “How are you gonna eat it? Can you interact with stuff?”

“I kicked you in the face just fine. You can just reverse the prayer you used to summon me here to send items back to the theater.” Ravenna explains, eager at the thought of using Arata’s money.

What do you mean by “reverse the prayer”? How do you reverse a prayer? Arata thinks about it as he places his order, a quiche for himself and a slice of pie for Ravenna. He waits for the food to arrive, while in the meantime, he ponders how to reverse a prayer. 

The food arrives at the table as he holds out the plate. Many people there stare at his strange attire and smell from not having showered since being in combat. Angels dancing, flowers, a god statue… 

Ravenna places her hands around his. When Arata opens his eyes, she’s gone, and so is the pie. A patron or two saw what happened, their eyes wide open as they pretended like they didn’t just see that pie disappear into nothingness. Well, I guess I had a bit of a mean streak with taking her assistance for granted when she’s getting nothing out of it, this is the least I could do…

Arata’s body moved on its own. He placed an order for a custard tart, which he sent back to Ravenna as well. Arata then turned his eyes to the quiche, digging in. It was everything he wanted. Flaky, cheesy, salty and most importantly, fulfilled my condition of wanting a hot meal. He wouldn’t let any of those stares ruin his meal, that fluffy egg heaven on a plate.

For the first time since coming to this world, Arata felt content, happily sightseeing in the fantasy world. The sun was unfortunately already setting, yet he still had no place to sleep. Time to find a hotel, let’s see. A nice big bath would be nice. Is there a place that could do that?

Looking up at the signs on various buildings, he spots something else from up high: a woman. She’s standing right near the edge of a building, dangerously close. 

Arata saw the look in her eyes, so in response, he rushed over. Shit! She’s going to kill herself, I've got to stop her!

He rushed over to the building to shout at her, but she leaped, her tear-stricken face emptied its emotion as her feet left the ground up above Arata.