SSS-Ranked Trash Hero: I Was Scammed Into Being Summoned-Chapter 1: The Worst Day (And It Gets Worse)

Here’s a fun philosophical question: if you had to pick a way to die that scholars would find really embarrassing in a hundred years, would you go with "hit by truck" or "on the toilet"? Because historically, both have claimed some pretty important people.

Hiroshi Tanaka thought about this while restocking instant ramen at midnight in a FamilyMart.

Hm. Hmmm. He hummed along to some random tune while a podcast played in his earbuds, rambling about isekai tropes, something about Truck-kun being "brilliant narrative design." He snorted, staring down at the miso ramen packets.

"Yeah, sure," he muttered. "Yeah, because vehicular manslaughter is cosmic kindness."

He was a twenty-eight-year-old loser who worked the night shift at a convenience store, with no social life and no real human connection. Well, he did have a master’s degree in being an otaku. like that would ever land him a job anywhere. After finishing college, where he earned a master’s in economics (tragic, really), he went to exactly one job interview at a mid-level company.

If you haven’t already guessed how that went, then maybe you’re slow. He bombed it, thanks to his crippling lack of focus, which he suspected might be some extreme attention disorder, assuming that was even a real thing.

Add that to the long list of ways he’d screwed up his life, and you’d have the outline for a pretty decent comedy movie.

If his life were an RPG, he’d min-maxed the wrong stats: INT 15, CHA 3, WIS maybe 8 on a good day. The perfect build for a support character who dies in the tutorial.

After finishing restocking, he returned to the counter.

The door of the FamilyMart slid open. A man in a black suit walked in, grabbed an alcohol bottle from the cooler, and squinted at Hiroshi.

Hiroshi’s customer service smile activated automatically.

"Sir. Would you like a bag?"

The man walked toward him.

Hiroshi couldn’t pinpoint what exactly, but something about the guy felt off. Being Hiroshi didn’t come with many perks, but his pathetic life had given him one useful skill: an instinct for recognizing trouble. It was the only way people like him survived.

And right now, that instinct was screaming at him that this was trouble.

The man placed the bottle of alcohol on the counter.

Hiroshi scanned it and the register beeped.

"Twenty-five dollars," he said.

The man handed him two cards. One was a Credit card for the payment. The other was a business card.

That was... strange. Why would a company man give a business card to him of all people?

And judging by the man’s watch and shoes, he wasn’t just well-off. He was Rich, the kind of Rich Hiroshi only saw on billboards and CEOs.

Hiroshi completed the payment and handed the Credit card back. Then he looked down at the business card.

It was plain. There was no contact number or address. Hell not even a logo.

Just a single line of text:

"Intergalactic Bureau of Change."

He read it three times, waiting for his brain to make some sense out of it. It didn’t.

He looked up. The man was watching him with an expression that was somehow both patient and amused, like a teacher waiting for a slow student to get the punchline.

"Is this..." Hiroshi squinted. "Is this some kind of pyramid scheme?"

The man’s smile widened. "No."

"Multi-level marketing?"

"No."

"Cult?"

"Definitely not."

Hiroshi set the card down on the counter and pushed it back toward him. "Look, sir, I appreciate the... whatever this is, but I’m really not interested in..."

"Your life," the man interrupted, "is going nowhere."

Hiroshi stopped.

The man continued, "You wake up at 6 PM. You eat instant noodles for dinner. You come to work. You restock shelves. You watch the same people buy the same things every night. You go home at dawn. You watch anime until you pass out. You wake up and do it again." He paused. "You haven’t spoken to another human being, really spoken, in three months."

How did he know this much about my Life?

"You’re twenty-eight years old," the man said, "and you’ve already given up."

Hiroshi wanted to argue, to tell this stranger to go to hell, but the words wouldn’t come. Because everything the man said was true.

Devastatingly, humiliatingly true.

"The Intergalactic Bureau of Change," the man said, tapping the business card, "specializes in people like you. People who’ve fallen. People who need a second chance." He leaned forward slightly. "We offer opportunities for... let’s call it career relocation."

"Career relocation," Hiroshi repeated. The man’s eyes glinted. "All we need is your signature on a contract."

Hiroshi laughed. He was not sure what to do in this situation other then laugh. "Right. Sure. And what’s the catch? My soul? My firstborn? What is this, some kind of Faustian bargain?"

"Don’t be so dramatic," the man said. "Just standard employment terms. You agree to take on a new role in a new location, and we facilitate the transition. It just that Simple."

"Uh-huh." Hiroshi crossed his arms. "And what exactly would this ’new role’ be?"

"That depends on your aptitudes. Your skills. Your potential." The man straightened. "Details will be provided once you sign."

"So you’re asking me to sign a contract without knowing what I’m agreeing to."

"Correct."

"You really think I’m an idiot."

The man tilted his head. "What exactly are you holding onto here, Tanaka-san? What part of this life is so precious that you can’t risk losing it?"

Hiroshi opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

First of all, screw this guy.

But now that he thought about it... what was he really holding on to? His life? His job? He wasn’t sure. And somehow, the man’s words were starting to make sense, which was depressing in itself.

The man was still watching him.

Even if this turned out to be some kind of pyramid scheme, what did he really have to lose? It wasn’t like his life could get much worse than this.

...So why did it suddenly feel wrong when he thought about it that way?

"Look," Hiroshi said finally. "Even if I believed you which I don’t why would you pick me? I’m nobody. I have nothing to offer anyone."

"On the contrary," the man said. "You have exactly what we’re looking for."

"Which is?"

"You will know when you sign the contract."

"That’s not an answer," he said. But the man didn’t reply

"If I sign," he heard himself say, "what happens?"

The man’s smile returned. "Everything changes."

"Again that’s not an answer."

"It’s the only answer that matters." The man reached into his jacket and pulled out a sleek black pen. He set it on the counter next to the business card. "The choice is yours, Tanaka-san. Keep watching life pass you by. Keep waiting for something to change." He paused. "Or take a chance on something different."

Hiroshi stared at the pen.

His hand moved before his brain could stop it. He picked it up.

"I..." He swallowed. "I need to think about it."

"Of course," the man said pleasantly. "Though I should mention, the offer expires soon."

"How soon?"

"Very."

Hiroshi looked down at the business card again. Intergalactic Bureau of Change. It sounded like something from a bad sci-fi novel. It was probably a scam. Definitely a scam.

But what if it wasn’t?

What if there really was a way out of this?

"Okay," Hiroshi said, the word tumbling out before he could stop it. "Okay. Fine. I’ll do it. Where do I sign?"

The man’s expression didn’t change, but something flickered in his eyes.

"The actual contract will need to be processed by my superiors," he said. "They handle all final paperwork."

Hiroshi blinked. "Wait, then what was the point of..."

"When can they do it?" he asked instead.

The man checked his watch. A expensive-looking thing that probably cost more than Hiroshi made in six or seven years.

"Now," he said simply.

"Now? Like right now? Here?"

"Not here." The man gestured vaguely toward the window. "The process requires specific conditions. My superiors are already en route."

"En route? What does that..." 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

And then he heard it.

Loud noise. Like an engine pushed to its limits.

He turned toward the window just as the headlights appeared, two blazing circles of white light growing bigger and brighter with terrifying speed.

Time seemed to slow down.

Hiroshi’s brain, that useless overthinking machine, immediately understood what was about to happen. The truck was speeding toward him. It will break the glass door. The distance between his counter and the door was not much. So the truck will definitely going to hit him and with that speed. He’s gonna die.

So most logical conclusion was for him to MOVE. But his body refused.

It was like someone had poured concrete into his veins. His legs wouldn’t respond. His arms hung useless at his sides. He could only stand there, frozen behind the counter, watching the truck hurtle toward him through the window.

This was very wrong.

He had time, not much, but enough. Enough to dive to the side. His brain was screaming at his body to move, to do something, but nothing happened.

It felt like invisible hands were holding him in place. Pinning him down. Keeping him exactly where he was.

Hiroshi managed to turn his head just enough to see the man in the suit.

He was still standing there. Still perfectly calm.

"Wait..." Hiroshi choked out.

The truck hit the glass door.

Glass exploded inward in a thousand glittering pieces. The entire front of the FamilyMart seemed to disintegrate in an instant, and then there was only the truck, massive and unstoppable, filling his entire field of vision.

Hiroshi’s last thought was absurdly mundane:

I never finished Elden ring.

Then there was impact, then come the pain, and darkness.

And somewhere in that darkness, he could have sworn he heard the man’s voice:

"Welcome to the Intergalactic Bureau of Change, Tanaka-san. Your transfer has been approved."