Peter always knew that marriage was risky.  Every one of his friends who got married said it was a gamble.  Thankfully, he had seen all their screw-ups and knew he’d be fine.


    The problem was that nobody could warn him about one thing -that his wife wasn’t a bitch, but a witch.  Well actually she was a bitchy witch, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves too fast.


    At first, it was easy to dismiss all the weird things that had happened.  His coffee was always the perfect temperature, even if he had left it sitting out for an hour.  Their groceries never seemed to run out even though he was certain he hadn’t gone to the store in weeks.


    The way Lilliana’s eyes glowed just slightly whenever she was irritated at his forgetfulness? That’s just the way the light reflected off her widened pupils.


    Love makes people overlook a lot.


    Unfortunately, even a blind carpenter picks up a hammer and saw occasionally, noticing the cracks in a building.


    It all came to a head one evening when Peter, watching a sports rerun for the third time, muttered something he would regret forever.”


    “You know, babe. Sometimes I feel like I just need a little space.”


    Like an arctic storm in Alaska, the air shifted in the room.  Immediately, the temperature dropped by at least twenty degrees.


    Glancing up from the TV, Pete saw Lilliana standing in the doorway, arms crossed, and an eyebrow arched so high he thought it was trying to escape to the moon.  Her dark hair seemed to be moving slightly, even though he was sure the fan was off and there was no breeze.


    “Space?” she repeated, her voice so smooth it could have been a polished piece of marble.


    Like an idiot, Peter kept talking. “Yeah. Just… I don’t know, sometimes to clear my head. You know, to think things through.  Maybe, like, a trial separation? Like on one of those reality shows you don’t like.”


    The silence that stretched on for a few moments felt like a graveyard at night.  Not the normal kind of silence, but one where a movie would have some ominous or foreboding music start to play right after.


    Taking a deep breath, Lilliana let it out slowly. “A trial separation,” she echoed, cocking her head to the side. “You say you want space?”


    Peter felt the lump in his throat, and trying to swallow it felt impossible.


    Uh… why is my body tingling?


    That sensation was one of the rare times Peter could hear the small voice in his head that he often ignored, calling out, “DEFCON 5! I REPEAT, WE ARE AT DEFCON 5!”


    “Uh…” he paused, sensing the room beginning to darken. “I mean, maybe–”


    Lifting her hand, Lilliana frowned and snapped her fingers.


    It was this Thursday night in April that changed Peter’s world completely.


    ***


    One moment, he was sitting in that lazy boy recliner that always felt perfect.  The next all he could see was a swirling vorex of blue and purple energy below him.


    The wind rushed around him as he hurtled toward the menacing-looking storm, wondering where he was in Kansas.


    [ SYSTEM NOTICE: Your marriage has been annulled by magical decree ]


    [ Divorce Settlement Initiated ]


    [ Processing... Allocating financial penalties... Assessing income potential… ]


    Peter screamed like a banshee, though it was mostly out of principle and not that he was scared. His limbs flailed uselessly as he hurtled toward the void.


    [ Calculations complete! ]


    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    The entire time as weird notifications on a red box appeared in his vision, he tried to grasp what was going on.


    Did she hit me with something? Am I having a seizure? An aneurysm?


    A new notification popped up which really made things hit home.


    [ Peter, you have been assigned the Class: Alimony Adventurer! ]


    [ Your debt to Liliana must be paid daily in gold. Failure to meet your quota will result in… ]


    [ Consequences ]


    “WHAT?!” Peter shouted in the swirling vortex. “Divorce doesn’t work like this! I’ve seen a divorce! I know how it works!”


    Another notification appeared.


    [ Correction: This is exactly how divorce works when married to an Arch-Witch of the Rose Order. Terms are non-negotiable. Have a nice afterlife. ]


    He barely had time to process the words that appeared before him before he hit the ground like a sack of rotten apples.


    The impact knocked him senseless and with each passing second Peter prayed he would wake up and see some doctor shining a light in his eyes.


    Groaning, he rolled over onto his back and blinked at the blinding light.


    A brief flicker of hope came and passed like gas after a bean burrito, and a weird reality began to set in.


    Up above was a sky with deep shades of violet and two twin moons.


    “Uh…” Peter muttered, rubbing his head. “Okay… Peter… you’re fine, you just gota–”


    He stopped talking, realizing that he was not fine.


    Glancing at himself, he saw that his clothes were gone.  His A-Team t-shirt was gone and the pair of blue jeans he would wear 24/7 if he could were no more.  Instead, he was wearing something that looked like a cheap RPG protagonist starter pack in the games he played occasionally late at night with Bob.


    A worn tunic, a leather belt with only one notch, and boots that made a squishing sound when he put pressure on them.


    I guess the thief class isn’t an option in these boots.


    Sitting up, Peter grunted and then groaned when a new notification appeared.


    [ New Status Effect Acquired! ]


    <ul>


    <li>Unpaid Alimony: Your ex-wife, Lilliana, has assigned you financial penalties for breaking up with her. These must be paid daily.</li>


    </ul>


    <ul>


    <li>Adventure-Forced Employment: You must engage in combat, labor or side hustles (no gigolo side hustles allowed) to generate income. </li>


    </ul>


    <ul>


    <li>Level Drain Clause: Any experience you possess can be collected if the daily debt is unpaid. Even if you just leveled, this experience can be deducted as interest, resulting in the loss of the current level.</li>


    </ul>


    His eye began to twitch, basically the same way, anytime his mother-in-law, who he always thought was a witch and turned out to be one, at the mention of her name.


    “This is some utter bullsh–”


    Before he could finish his thoughts, another notification took his breath away.


    [ Welcome to the Kingdom of Hellion! ]


    [ As part of your magical divorce settlement, you will begin your new life here. ]


    [ Your first payment is due in 12 hours. ]


    “First payment?! I JUST GOT HERE!” Peter shouted as he jumped to his feet, looking up at the purple sky.


    Another message appeared and this one stung a little.


    [ Good luck, sucker. Next time don’t ask for space from a witch. ]


    A groan escaped his mouth and Peter glanced around at his surroundings.


    Like so many shows and games he had played, he was standing in a field just outside of what looked like a medieval town.


    Not that far from him was a large wooden sign.


    “Welcome to Grindville: Where Your Hard Work Never Stops!”


    Mother clucker…


    It was at this moment Peter understood what had just taken place.


    I’ve been Isekai’d into a labor economy.


    He wanted to stand there, shake his fist at the sky, stomp his feet or do something, yet in the corner of his vision was a timer and it was ticking away.  Like water torture, everyone he watched vanish made him wince, spurring him into action.


    Dusting himself off and surprised at the amount that actually fell from him, Peter started to make his way toward the town.  A road leading in and out of it was bustling with people, all clad in simple medieval attire.


    No one said anything, though a few frowned as he made his way along the road, knowing he was staring at everything like some wide-eyed doe.


    The smell made him long for his two scent-changing plugins back home as sweat, crap, and other stuff he couldn’t quite make out yet would swear he could somehow taste assaulted his nose.


    Vendors were lining the streets, signs over them announcing what they sold. Many were calling out to others like himself moving up and down the street, always trying to get someone to stop by.


    Even though Peter knew he shouldn’t be, he was surprised to see things like blacksmiths, weapons, magical supplies, alchemy, and other things that registered as impossible.


    I guess being here and seeing these things shouldn’t be all that shocking.


    The sound of shouting and then two bodies flying through the air caught his attention as a two-headed ogre tossed a pair of men from outside what had to be a tavern.


    “The Two-Headed Ogre Tavern”


    Shaking his head at the sign and the apparent proprietor of the establishment, he moved quickly away from the scene, trying not to get run over by a wagon or tossed around town by something twice his size.


    Everything cost money and he knew he needed to make some so as he walked, he spotted the most glorious sign he could imagine.


    “Sal’s Lawyer Shop - When You Can’t Afford to pay, Sal saves the day!”


    A lawyer! Why if I can…


    Knowing he didn’t have a dime.. Or copper or gold or whatever they used here for money to his name, Peter wasn’t dumb enough to join the crowd of people on a covered porch all waiting their turn.  He had bills to pay and needed to find out how to do that.


    Just a hundred yards away a flicker of light caught his eye and he saw the solution.


    “Grindville Adventurers Guild”


    If there was one thing he had learned from Japanese animation and roleplaying games, the only chance he had at surviving in this world Isabella had sent him to, lay inside that stone building.


    Inside his chest, something began to build and Peter knew he had found the hope he needed.


    Instead, a large amount of purple and black vomit came forth, covering the dirt road in a dazzling display of liquid.


    Laughter came from many around him as he wiped his mouth, surprised by the blueberry flavor.


    “Newbie,” a tall man who looked like a scarecrow said. “You best get you a job quick. Odds are your in for a rough patch.


    While the crowd around him began to laugh, Peter started to jog, ignoring the taste and sound that told him how true those words were.


    He had bills to pay and a bitch witch of an ex-wife to try and escape from.