15. When Paradise Is Lost

Another day, another indulgence in idleness.

Ah, perfect for lounging, this home of mine.

Meals arrive on their own from the other side, security is flawless—safe enough to sleep soundly even in the depths of a dangerous dungeon.

Soft threads laid over the hard floor make for an excellent bed.

Lying here, idly spinning thread, as usual.

Ah, contentment.

Thinking back, my previous life was quite busy, wasn’t it?

I didn’t realize it at the time, but now I see—four hours of average sleep? How is that sustainable?

My routine in my past life: wake in the morning, attend school, return home after, spend the entire evening playing games, then fall asleep when drowsiness peaks at night.

That was my life.

The games were enjoyable, yes—but now I recognize the sense of obligation, the feeling that I “had to” play, was not entirely absent.

I felt I had pushed beyond my own capacity, trying to meet the expectations of others and uphold the pride of being a non-paying player who still ranked among the top.

The idea that someone like me could fulfill the expectations of those around me—how absurd, how laughable.

Narcissistic.

I didn’t care about what others thought.

I believed that, until I realized, since beginning this life, that I still carried a faint trace of such human frailty.

So, now that I truly have nothing to do, the sense of release from abandoning everything entirely is palpable.

At first, I worried I might not endure the idleness—but that fear proved unfounded.

A life without internet or games is indeed boring, but not unbearable.

It seems I am wired to find happiness at a lower threshold than most.

To be alive is, frankly, enough.

The current life, with food and shelter guaranteed, is unimpeachably happy.

I might as well spend my entire life here.

The lifespan of a spider is unknown to me.

Yet, I think I’ll have to leave this home someday.

Unforeseen circumstances. Environmental shifts. The emergence of a formidable foe breaching the nest.

The time will come, though no one knows when.

Nothing remains unchanged.

Prepare yourself for the moment it arrives.

Decided as much, but too soon!

You're not ready!

In my frantic vision, one entrance of my burning home lies ahead.

Drowsy with sleep, a sudden flare of fire erupted.

My home, crafted with meticulous care, is slowly consumed by flames, offering no resistance.

My invincible web thread—its fatal flaw, vulnerability to fire, has been revealed.

Why now, all of a sudden, fire?

The answer came immediately.

A person.

A man stood within the flames.

In his hand, a torch.

He must have used that flame to burn down my home.

Trouble.

Though obscured by fire, I can make out several figures behind him.

This was no accident.

They are clearly acting in awareness of the spiderweb.

That means they must recognize my presence—a spider monster—deep within the nest.

Remaining here now leaves only two options: die burned by the fire, or die cornered by humans.

Fortunately, the flames have not yet reached me. If I exit through the opposite escape route, I should avoid pursuit.

I glance once more at the inside of my home.

I have spent most of my life here since reincarnation.

Built with care.

Every discovery made here, every moment of joy and sorrow.

The place that has protected me all along.

Perhaps I care for it more than my room in my previous life.

So much intensity lived within these walls.

I run.

In the opposite direction of the flames.

Navigating the complex web with practiced precision.

The final barrier.

Beyond this net, I will never return.

Beyond this net, no safety exists.

I pass through without hesitation.

The urge to look back is strong—but I do not.

I focus only on escaping as far as possible.

Thus, I am driven from my home.

Incidentally, the adventurers who set fire to my home reportedly discovered, afterward, a large quantity of my yarn left abandoned in the center of the residence.

The flames did not reach that area. They collected the yarn.

Clothing made from that yarn was traded at an exorbitant price.

It is said a king from some distant nation even purchased one, causing a brief sensation.

I would learn of this fact much, much later.