Chapter Text
A young student, fed up with life.
He had left his apartment early—earlier than usual, earlier than necessary. The streets had been half-awake, the air still holding the cold of dawn. Shops had remained shuttered. The buzz of the city hadn’t started yet.
His footsteps echoed through the station tunnel. Down the stairs. Past the vending machines. Past the signs. His eyes barely lifted from the ground. He moved like someone having too much on his shoulders.
He didn't check the time. He didn't need to. He just knew the train was coming.
Meanwhile, a train driver started his shift.
A cup of hot cocoa finished. A yawn stifled with the back of his hand. The cab smelled faintly of metal and oil, silent. He checked the gauges, and the green light blinked. He released the brakes and pulled.
He exhaled and leaned forward, his hands gripped the controls, the line ahead stretched into the morning fog.
Both men arrived on time.
And then—
A figure.
The student walked onto the platform with slow steps. His eyes were hollow. He didn’t look around, and didn’t look at anyone. He was not here to commute.
The driver spotted him from a distance.
It wasn’t something you could see every day, but it was something they warned me about during training.
He walked toward the tracks, his eyes hollow. There’s only one answer to why he was here, but the real question was deeper.
What happened to bring him to this place? At this hour? This exact moment? What broke so badly that he’d throw away the one thing no one can ever reclaim?
I didn’t know. Maybe I never would.
All I saw were the rails stretching out before me, the emergency button already slammed. All I heard was the scream of metal on metal, the hiss of air leaving the brakes.
It was exactly how an isekai story would start—but that’s not what crossed my mind.
What I feel is simple: I’m not ready for any of this.
And then—
A rupture in the air. A soundless crack.
Right before the train hit him, a portal opened.
He vanished.
And the world changed.
The tracks were gone. The wires, the catenaries, the overpasses—gone.
The train roared forward, unsupported, suspended for one impossible second—
Until it crashed down.
I grabbed hold of my seat with everything I had as the engine slammed into solid earth, metal grinding against stone, leveling the soil in bursts against the windshield.
Honestly… WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!
Why was there a forest in the middle of Paris? Where did I end up? My head was bobbing up and down like crazy, and I couldn’t feel my fingers! In fact I felt like I’m going to lose hold and slam my head—
Crap.
Before I knew it, my whole world turned black.
I came to with my face against the cold metal of the control board and a splitting pain in my skull.
Everything ached. My neck, my back, my wrists. I didn’t even know how long I was out. It felt like minutes or maybe even hours. Could’ve been both. Or neither.
The cab was sideways. Or maybe I was, I couldn't tell yet. I blinked, trying to make sense of the colors around me. My glasses were fine, and I was able to see clearly despite the dust surrounding me.
Light filtered through the broken windshield, and the faint sound of rustling leaves reached my ears. Maybe trees?
Branches pressed in through the shattered window, and leaves were scattered across the console. Dirt spilled into the cab through the two side windows that I used to leave open to get some fresh morning air. But a question remained.
Where was I?
I shifted, and pain shot up my arm. Nothing broke, I thought. Just bruised. Great, I guessed I would carry that for a few days. My clothes survived, if only dirtied, probably from the dirt that spilled inside. A slight cut above my eyebrow bled, I felt some blood dripping from it.
Meaning I was out for a short time.
I grunted and pushed myself upright, wobbled, but gripped the nearby seat. Outside, I saw that I ended my course against a tall tree. A miracle spared anything from catching fire while I lay unconscious—or worse.
After checking the cab for a while to see if everything was fine, I stepped closer to the window.
There were no tracks, no rails, no gravel bed beneath the train, no overhead lines, no signals, no fencing, no graffiti-covered walls.
Just the forest. Green as anything, like the homeland of my parents, Normandie. Tall, ancient-looking trunks, with bark like gnarled skin and vines creeping up to the canopy. The sky above was a wide, cloudless blue. A good day, if I wasn’t losing my goddamn mind.
… WHERE THE FUCK AM I?
My hands were shaking, but I reassured myself that everything was fine. But no matter how hard I tried to calm myself, the shaking didn’t go away. I exhaled sharply and looked back at the cab, the ruined console, the seat I just pulled myself out of. I was supposed to get this locomotive back at the depot today. Just another quiet morning shift, just how I liked it.
Instead, I found myself in a forest, the train half buried in dirt.
And then it struck me.
“The student!” I shouted aloud, like he might answer. I scrambled, knees almost buckling, and hauled myself out through the side window—the emergency exit. The metal edge scraped my leg on the way out, but I didn't care right now. Perhaps the adrenaline pushed me to ignore the pain lancing in my leg.
I hit the ground hard and staggered forward.
He had to be here, he was right in front of the train.
But no one was there.
Just flattened grass. A few broken ferns. No footprints, no blood, no bag, or even a body. Not even a sign that someone stood there at all.
When I looked back at the locomotive, which loomed right in front of me, a cold wave of despair rolled over me.
“I’m definitely getting fired…” I muttered.
It was an old beast, way older than me—almost forty years on the rails—but still…
“...I should check if the radio’s working.”
I climbed back inside the cab and checked the GSM-R, but nothing. The screen was blank, and the batteries were probably dead, considering that pushing the buttons did nothing.
“Great...” I sighed, reaching into my hoodie pocket for my phone. At least it survived the crash without a scratch. But when I glanced at the screen, no bars and no Wi-Fi showed.
“Now it really feels like I’m in Normandie…” I chuckled nervously to myself.
I laugh, but it’s not a good situation at all! I’m lost here!
I pushed off the console and peered out through the shattered window. The forest stretched out, thick and endless—with no sign of civilization and no hint of a way back.
“Okay… let’s try to rationalize this, David,” I said aloud.
Talking to myself was something I’ve always done to stay grounded—especially during tough times or emergencies. It helped, sometimes.
"First, let's check if I'm in a dream."
I pinched my arm hard. The sting was instant, and I winced. “Nope.”
I didn't feel dizzy or nauseous. My head ached, yeah—but it was a dull throb due to the impact, not caused by fever or fatigue. I’ve pushed through more night shifts than I could count, and this didn’t feel like one of those blurry, sleep-deprived days.
This was… clear. I could hear the nearby little birds singing, smell the soil, and feel the warmth of the sun on my clothes.
Everything felt… real. Something I clearly didn't wish for right now.
I opened the cab door with effort—it groaned, twisted slightly off frame—and hopped down again. I needed to think, needed to plan. I couldn't panic right out of the gate, especially in a situation like this.
Unfortunately, there weren’t many ways to explain this. I didn’t know where I was, didn’t know how I got here, and the train—something I could physically touch and see was here with me.
“Shit.”
My brain began spiraling toward thoughts I didn’t want to entertain. Thoughts that belonged in sci-fi novels or conspiracy forums, not real life. I mean, in a good book, maybe this would all make sense by the end. But this wasn’t a story.
Was it?
Was that student I saw real… or something else?
How could you derail a train without leaving tracks behind?
What if I didn’t just black out? What if I crossed into somewhere else entirely?
I shook my head.
No. That’s ridiculous.
Isn’t it?
I glanced back at the train, half-submerged in dirt like a fossil. And for the first time since I woke up, I felt something colder than fear settle in my chest.
I couldn't possibly fix this, and I might not be able to call anyone for help.
And... I might be very far from home.
This is wrong.
It was the same bone-deep wrongness you feel when you wake up to a phone call at 3 a.m. and know something awful’s happened before anyone says a word.
And then I heard it.
A soft sound. Just a rustle. Thirty meters to my left, in the underbrush. It wasn't the wind rustling the leaves or a bird, but something a bit bigger, like an animal.
I froze.
I strained my ears, my heartbeat thudding in them. My breath caught as I took one cautious step back, towards the train. It could protect me in case of emergencies, after all. I could just shut the doors and... Right, the door was broken already.
The brush rustled again. Closer this time. Leaves trembling.
“...Hello?” I called out, instantly regretting it. What was I thinking? Though perhaps this could be someone who could help me.
But nothing came out of it. I swallowed and backed up another step. My eyes scanned the trees, the brambles, the gaps between the trunks, the shadows. Especially the shadows, since every shape was just off enough to spark doubt in my already confused mind.
After long minutes that felt longer than waiting for your test results to come, nothing came out.
“Damn, I’m jumpy… I guess I need to relax first.”
I sighed and headed back inside the cab.
I rifled through my bag. If memory served, I kept a snack or two for long shifts. Something to calm the stomach before the day went completely off-rails—well, too late for that.
I pulled out an energy bar, unwraped it with trembling fingers, and took a bite. The sweet taste soothed my nerves, and I sank down onto the tilted seat. For now, the temperature was cool, thanks to the shadow cast by the towering trees outside, but soon this cab would turn into a furnace. I needed to get out of here soon if I didn't want to end up like a dry fruit.
But in which direction? I could walk for hours and maybe not find a single soul around. Knowing my luck, this could totally happen. I only had this energy bar and my Thermos full of water, how long would that last? I didn’t know the first thing about surviving in a forest. If only I'd joined the scouts as a kid…
I ran my fingers through my hair, frustrated and desperate for a plan. Time was ticking, and I was running out of options.
I needed to move.
But where?
Eventually, my thoughts started circling in endless loops. And of course, I didn't move. After all, being here was safer than going out, and maybe someone would come looking. A train in the middle of a forest could attract some people, and the sound of the crash might have been heard.
What was I thinking? There is no way someone could find me, since this situation was way too strange to be considered normal!
“Okay, David, don’t panic. You’re not some fantasy hero stuck in a weird alternate world. You’re just... lost. Probably. Maybe.” I gave myself a pep talk that sounded more like a question. Great.
Oh, and go to hell, reason! I’ll just have to improvise!
After a few minutes of stewing in existential dread and chewing on my increasingly disappointing energy bar, I slung my bag over my shoulder and stepped out of the cab again.
The forest greeted me like a wet slap: humid, buzzing, and swarming with insects who’d clearly voted unanimously that I was their new landlord. I scratched at my arm, then my neck, then waved a buzzing demon away from my nose.
“Nothing can eat you here. The little beast does not eat the big one." I muttered, quoting some nonsense my dad used to say. "Actually, this quote is stupid!” I muttered, waving away an annoying fly that’s decided my nose looks like a landing spot. "I know it’s red, but come on!"
I picked a direction—any direction—and started walking. After all, I couldn’t just sit in the train forever waiting for a rescue that wasn’t coming.
Ten minutes in, I realized something horrifying.
This forest? It didn’t end.
No paths. No signs. No cozy smoke trails from a distant village, even though I clearly didn't know why I expected such a thing to appear at this point. Where could you even see smoke trails in this day and age besides near factories?
"When I woke up this morning, I did not expect to find myself on a forced nature hike,” I grumbled, smacking a mosquito doing backflips around my ear. My legs were already filing formal complaints—turns out driving a train doesn’t exactly build up your hiking stamina. At least the ground was soft. No rocks trying to assassinate my ankles.
Great. Just great.
And just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, I heard it—the unmistakable sound of footsteps announcing disaster!
I froze again, my every muscle tensing. The last thing I wanted was to come face-to-face with a bear, a wolf, or any other creature that could turn me into its afternoon snack.
Though… Why am I hearing clunking noises? And I mean, it’s been a while since I practiced archery, but that sounds like—
“Do not take another step.”
The voice was kept low but cold, and closer than I expected.
I nearly ran away. Nearly. But instead, I did the smart thing and stood perfectly still with my arms up in the air.
Out of the shadows stepped a woman.
Okay, good news: not an animal.
Bad news... she had a bow and it was aimed at my head.
She was dressed like a medieval ranger—hooded cloak, worn leather tunic, boots that had seen a few too many rainy seasons. Her green eyes were fixed on me while keeping her aim steady like a practiced hunter.
“Who are you?” she whispered, her voice barely louder than the rustling leaves. “What are you doing here? Don’t you know this forest is crawling with hostile monsters?”
I opened my mouth to say something clever, maybe even coherent, but before I could, she gave me a once-over—and visibly relaxed. She lowered her bow with the kind of sigh people save for realizing the “threat” is just a squirrel.
Rude, honestly. I know I’m not the most intimidating guy, but still. I could’ve been dangerous!
…Okay, not very dangerous. Harmless, even. And I much prefer to see someone reasonable out here, even if she is cosplaying Robin Hood.
“I’m lost,” I whispered, pushing up my glasses to get a better look at her. “But… did you say monsters?”
Something about that word—monsters—itched in my brain like a splinter. I didn’t like how casual she made it sound, like she was talking about the weather instead of potential man-eating abominations.
She studied me for a long moment with a face that looked both disgusted and annoyed, almost saying, “Are you for real?” and “Why am I wasting my time?” After a long, dramatic sigh—as if the weight of the entire forest’s stupidity rested on her shoulders—she pulled back her hood. Chestnut hair tumbled out, a bit wild and dusty, and there was this smudge of dirt on her cheek that added to the "feral but hot" aesthetic.
“Monsters,” she repeated, leaning as if she were speaking to a deaf old man. “You’re lucky to be alive. Most people don’t last long here.”
I blinked. “Monsters…” The word ganwed at my sanity like a glitch in my brain. Did I just arrive inside a bad RPG? This had to be a prank or some kind of twisted joke, right?
“Could you be… more specific?”
“Did you hit your head or something?”
“I did, actually. Probably explains why it feels like a weird fever dream right now…”
She took a step closer and peered into my eyes like she was trying to check for signs of intelligent life. “You actually did… Great. Just great. Why did I even stumble upon you?”
Because we were going in the same direction?
“I’m out here all day, trying to spot that monster, and what do I find? A guy with brain damage.”
Is she… rambling?
“I get hit on by a weirdo this morning, eat dirt slipping on wet grass like a klutz, get my bag stolen by some piece of shit fairies, and to top it all off, I’m stuck escorting a dumb guy who should’ve been lamia’s lunch ages ago.”
She glared at me with a look somewhere between exasperation and ‘Are you seriously this hopeless?’
“I don’t know,” I mumble, hands half-raised like I’m apologizing for existing.
“Move dammit! You stand there rooted like a mandragora! Don’t waste my time!”
Okay. Message received. Apparently being concussed, confused, and terrified isn’t enough to earn sympathy points out here. Good to know.
She pissed me off too, but for now, I had no better option than the raging wood-elf cosplayer in front of me. Not like I had Google Maps or a ride out of here.
So I started walking behind her, trying to keep pace. Her cape kept whipping into my face like it held a grudge. She didn’t bother holding the branches aside—so I ended up in a committed relationship with twigs, leaves, and the occasional thorn.
Was she doing this on purpose?
I thought so… especially after the third branch smacked me across the nose.
I ducked under another one she very intentionally didn’t hold, and it slapped me square in the forehead.
Yeah. That one was definitely on purpose.
"Hey,” I muttered, brushing a leaf off my face, “I’m sorry for being a nuisance, but could you at least hold the branches for me?”
She didn’t even turn around. “Shut up and follow me.”
“Right…”
I nodded along and kept moving. I tightened my grip on my bag and bit down on all the snarky comebacks bubbling in my throat. Not that I would’ve said them—I was a world-class coward with a self-preservation instinct sharper than her arrows.
We marched on in tense silence, the only soundtrack being the crunch of leaves beneath our feet and the high-pitched wail of my internal screaming. Then, without warning, she stopped so abruptly I nearly faceplanted into her back.
She raised a hand. “Don’t move.”
This time, I actually froze mid-step, one foot hovering awkwardly above the ground like I'd been caught dancing in my own room. I didn’t ask questions. I didn’t breathe. I just… existed, as quietly as possible.
She crouched, drawing an arrow with such smooth precision it made my own spine twinge in secondhand tension. Her eyes narrowed, locked on the underbrush ahead.
“What is it?” I whispered, barely moving my lips.
“Something’s here.”
My heart skipped a beat. Maybe two. I leaned slightly over her shoulder, trying to see what she saw—but all I got was a face full of leaves and zero clarity.
“A deer?” I tried, too hopeful for my own good.
She turned her head just enough to glare at me like I’d suggested hugging a landmine.
“You know,” she said in that unnervingly calm voice, “I could just leave you here. Use you as bait. While it eats you, I get away.”
I stopped breathing entirely. My soul briefly left my body, hovered above me like a concerned balloon, and seriously considered cutting the string.
“O-Okay, relax… I won’t abandon you.” She said, stammering slightly.
“T-Thanks…”
“It was a joke.”
That little awkward chuckle at the end… She was actually serious, wasn’t she?
She turned back to the bushes, leaving me to marinate in the existential dread of being entirely disposable.
Then the bush rustles. Something big was moving in there. She drew her bow tighter—the string creaked with tension. I could almost hear her heartbeat. Or maybe it was mine, trying to drum its way out of my chest.
And then—
A shape slithered out from the shadows.
Long.
Smooth.
Scaly.
Oh no.
It wasn't a deer.
Not even close.
It was a woman.
Sort of.
Strikingly beautiful, in a way that makes your survival instincts scream in five different languages.
In fact, I think I knew her from somewhere…
“...Anastasia?” I blinked in shock, the name slipping out before I could stop it.
Emotionally Unavailable Ranger Lady turned her head sharply, glaring at me with eyes full of pure what-the-fuck-is-wrong-with-you.
“Hm?” The lamia purred, tilting her head toward us like she’d just overheard something mildly entertaining.
Oh crap.
“RUN!” the ranger snapped, already loosing an arrow that sliced the air, aimed squarely at Anastasia’s face.
I did not run.
I did not move.
I just stood there, watching the arrow fly—
—until, at the last possible second, Anastasia leaned slightly to the side like she was dodging a frisbee. The arrow sailed harmlessly past and thunked into a tree.
She raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Was that supposed to scare me?”
The ranger already had another arrow nocked, but she glanced at me for half a second—eyes wide, furious, and terrified. “What are you doing?! I said run!”
“Well…” I blinked, still locked on Anastasia, who was now smiling like someone who had just found a new toy.
Now it kind of made sense. I should have noticed it earlier when Ranger Girl was telling her whole day, but I was too busy not listening to her nonsense and too surprised by her beauty.
Fairies, monsters, lamias…
I’m in Monster Girl Quest, aren’t I?
Which made no sense. But neither did any of this.
So, naturally, I screamed—a high, panicked, fully unashamed shriek:
“This is a fuuuucking JOOOOKE!”
And I spun on my heel and bolted into the trees like a man possessed.
“Come on, don’t run away!” Anastasia’s voice called after me, sing-song sweet, like she was calling a puppy back home.
Nope! Not today! I’m not falling for the friendly lamia neighbor bait!
“Sorry, Ranger Girl!” I shouted behind me, slapping away vines and branches as I sprinted for dear life. “I’m getting the hell out of here!”
I had no idea where I was going.
I just ran.
Twigs tore at my arms. Something buzzed past my ear. I hurdled a log and nearly faceplanted on a hidden root.
Pure panic did the navigating. Survival instinct took the wheel.
“What… the… hell… is going on?!” I gasped, lungs burning, legs screaming for mercy. I sprinted harder than I ever had in my life, dodging branches, leaping over roots—the forest turning into a green blur.
Then—suddenly—the thick canopy overhead began to thin. The trees spaced out, and the smell changed. Gone was the damp, earthy stench of rotting leaves and moss. The air now tasted salty.
I skidded to a stop, panting. Through the trees ahead, I saw it: a shimmering stretch of blue, vast and endless. The ocean. The crashing waves sounded like distant thunder.
“How did I miss this?!”
Bent over, hands on my knees, I tried to catch my breath. A cold sea breeze rolled in, whipping my hair into my face, washing the sweat from my skin.
Wait—wait. I knew this.
This had to be close to Port Natalia. Right?
I wasn’t supposed to meet the lamia out here—if I remembered the route correctly—but the forest path, the coastline, the hill... I recognized the layout. This was the outskirts of Port Natalia. Or at least how it was in the game.
Heart still hammering, I took off again, pushing through one last patch of scrub and underbrush. I charged up a small hill, feet slipping on loose dirt—and then—
There it was. Port Natalia.
Whitewashed stone houses stretched along the shore, rooftops glinting in the sun, lazy palm trees swaying gently. The harbor bustled with life—masts rocked on anchored ships, colorful awnings fluttered over merchant stalls, and in the distance: voices, seagulls, crashing waves.
I glanced back one final time, but I couldn’t afford to linger. The last thing I wanted was to end up in a lamia’s stomach—no matter how tempting that idea had seemed in the game.
So I sprinted toward the port.
Maybe—just maybe—someone here knew how to send me back to my world.
Back… home?
I hesitated.
Was I even going back?
How the hell had this happened? One moment I was driving, the next I was in a goddamn eroge world. What the hell was this? Did Ilias pull something again? Was this Paradox? The original timeline? An alternate spin-off? Divine punishment? A coma? A stroke?
Shit, so many questions that remained unanswered because I didn’t have any information. But information was the least of my concern when survival came before all!
I barreled down the hill, skidding past a startled merchant juggling crates of fruit. He shouted something, but I didn’t register it. I aimed for the largest building I could see—something that looked like an inn.
I shoved the door open and stumbled inside.
It was cooler here. The air smelled like smoke, roasted meat, and seawater. The only person in sight was the innkeeper: an old woman, her hair a tangled gray mess tied back with twine. One eye half-shut, the other locked on me with the bored indifference of someone who’d seen everything and stopped caring long ago.
“Welcome,” she grumbled, chewing something dry—bread, jerky, or maybe even wood for all I could tell. Were people in this world really eating that?
“H-Hello,” I managed, trying not to sound like I just outran a predator, which I sort of did. My legs were jelly, and my heart was still trying to beat its way out of my ribs.
I glanced around. The place was completely empty, and the stairs right in front of me were probably leading to a room.
A room... With a bed and a door with a lock? It costs money, right?
I didn’t have any money.
No gold coins. Just the hoodie, jeans, and T-shirt I’d arrived in—and whatever was stuffed in my pockets. I patted myself down instinctively. No wallet. Of course not. I used a card holder now—just a bus pass and a credit card.
I doubted a world like this accepted credit cards. Even if it did, there was no way it would work. My phone was still in my pocket, but what good was it? No signal. No internet. Probably no battery left. And pawning it? It’d just look like a weird, shiny brick to them. Totally worthless.
I looked up slowly, hoping desperation might count for something.
The old woman was still staring at me, chewing like she had all the time in the world.
“Well?” she said. “You ordering something or just here to breathe heavy like a creep?”
“I… don’t have any money.”
“Yeah? And I barely have any teeth. Good riddance.”
I blinked.
What?
“You got problems. I've got problems. Life’s a crooked plank walk, and we’re all drunk on it. So what’ll it be? You freeloading or dying in the doorway?”
“I can’t just freeload…”
“So you want to die, then? Go ahead. Forest's that way. Lamias love fresh meat.”
“I mean… Can I help around? I know this may sound insane but…”
“Help around?”
“I need a place to stay, I’ve got nowhere to go… Not that I’m looking for pity or anything. But, please…”
She stared at me in silence for a long beat, then leaned back with a sigh that sounded like it had waited a lifetime to be exhaled.
“Kid,” she muttered, scratching her jaw with a thumbnail thick as a barnacle, “you’re not one of those heroes, are you? Figured you looked weird in those clothes. Just like the other idiots always praying to Ilias.”
“I’m definitely not a hero.”
“Good. We’ve had enough of those self-righteous jackasses swinging by to steal my stuff. Most end up piss-drunk, dead, or both.”
She shifted in her chair, creaking like ancient wood. “Alright. You wanna stay, you work. Sweep the floors, clean the mugs, empty the chamber pots. I catch you slacking, or stealing, or breathing funny, I call Mike to drop you in the forest bound and gagged. That’s where most of these morons end up anyway.”
I stared at her and swallowed audibly. “That’s… fair.”
“Damn right it is,” she huffed, then jabbed a finger toward the side room. “Broom’s in there. Floor’s not gonna clean itself. You got two hands, don’t you?”
Yeah, I had two hands. Didn’t mean I expected to be using them like this. I shuffled toward the side room, muttering under my breath. So much for fantasy worlds being all sunshine and sexy monster girls. What happened to cheery taverns and welcoming NPCs? The old woman was already grumbling about “freeloading jackasses with weird shoes” by the time I found the broom.
It was exactly what I feared—crooked, half-rotted, and stiff with some kind of crust that might’ve qualified as a sentient lifeform in the right lighting. I grabbed it anyway, shoved my bag inside, and stepped back out.
The floor was a mess—sand, spilled ale, unidentifiable food chunks, and maybe something that once breathed. A rat, probably. Great. I got to work, sweeping fast and hard.
I stole a glance at the old woman behind the counter. She ignored me, still chewing whatever it was she hadn’t swallowed in the last decade. Her one open eye flicked toward me now and then—just enough to make sure I was still earning my keep.
Well, at least I wasn’t dead. The situation sucked, sure, but maybe I could work something out eventually. Still, being away from home hit harder than I expected.
A lot of people probably dreamed of getting pulled into fantasy worlds. Not me. I liked my old life, thank you very much. Even if I didn’t love my job and still lived with my parents, it was stable. I had video games, plans to get my own apartment in a year or two...
I had friends, too… Okay, I hadn’t seen them in a while—work, life, everything had gotten busy—but they were still there.
I sighed and swept another pile of crusty sand toward the door.
My life back home wasn’t exciting, sure. But it wasn’t miserable. It was mine. I chose that life. This one? This one got thrown at me like a pie to the face.
And I’d been neck-deep in “adventures” before, and while it was fun the first day, it soon became annoying.
I shoved the door open and gave the broom a massive swing to launch the trash outside.
“Woops—” The broom cracked hard against the doorframe, and the trash cloud exploded—sand, grime, sticky stew flecks, and whatever else had been hiding in that disgusting heap. It swirled into the air like a cursed fog.
Then came the coughing. Angry, hoarse coughing. Someone wheezed like they’d just inhaled a desert.
I winced and slowly turned my head.
And there she was.
The ranger girl from the forest. Now freshly caked in filth. Her hair was a tangled disaster, her face flushed red with rage, and her bloodshot eyes locked straight onto me.
“I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!”