Jason woke before the bell rang.
It wasn't deliberate. His body simply surfaced from sleep, alert in a way it hadn't been in a long time. For a few seconds he lay still, staring at the low wooden ceiling of the small room, listening.
The inn was already awake.
Footsteps moved below him, steady and practiced. A door opened and closed. Somewhere, metal scraped softly against stone pots, maybe, or a shutter being lifted. The air carried the faint smell of boiled grain and something herbal.
Morning.
Jason sat up and swung his legs off the bed. The floorboards were cold under his feet. He stretched experimentally, half-expecting soreness from the previous day's work by the river.
There was some stiffness. Nothing more.
That bothered him, but only distantly. He pushed the thought aside and went downstairs.
The common room looked different in daylight.
Less warm, more practical. Tables bore old scratches and uneven repairs. The hearth was dark now, ash cleaned out and stacked neatly beside it. Sunlight crept through the front windows in thin slanted bars.
The older man from the night before stood behind the counter again, sleeves rolled up, methodically slicing bread.
"You're up early," he said without looking up.
Jason hesitated, then nodded. "Habit."
The word came out a half-beat later than he intended, as if his mind checked it before letting it through. He was getting used to that sensation understanding arriving first, speech following cautiously.
The man glanced at him now, eyes assessing but not sharp. "Name's Aldric," he said. "My wife's Mira. You can call us that."
"Jason," he replied.
Aldric nodded once and went back to his bread.
Mira emerged from the back room carrying a pot that smelled like boiled roots and herbs. She set it down with a practiced motion and eyed Jason critically.
"You said you worked by the river," she said.
"Yes."
"You planning to again?"
Jason considered. "If there's work."
"There's always work," she said dryly. "Just not always coin."
She gestured toward a stack of empty mugs. "You eat with us, you earn with us. Fair?"
"Fair," Jason said immediately.
She nodded, apparently satisfied.
Breakfast was simple. Thick stew ladled into bowls, bread torn by hand. Aldric ate standing, Mira sat briefly before rising again to attend to something else.
Charlotte appeared halfway through the meal.
She moved quietly, still carrying the book from the night before, hair tied back more carefully now. She offered Jason a brief nod in greeting and took a seat near the window.
"Morning," she said.
"Morning," Jason replied.
The exchange was unremarkable. Which, somehow, made it easier.
After breakfast, Aldric set Jason to work.
Cleaning tables. Carrying water. Running messages to a supplier two streets over. The work wasn't hard, but it was constant, the kind that filled time so completely there was no room left for anything else.
Jason welcomed that.
As he worked, he paid attention,not deliberately, not the way he had the day before. Just… passively. Language slid into place more easily now. He still avoided long sentences, still paused before answering unfamiliar phrasing, but the hesitation was shrinking.
By midmorning, something else became clear.
The work was affecting him.
Not dramatically. Not enough that anyone else would notice. But the rhythm of repeated effort lift, carry, scrub, rest left him feeling… sharper. More present.
At one point, as he hoisted a crate of supplies into the storage room, his grip adjusted automatically, compensating for an imbalance before he consciously noticed it.
Later, as he took a short break near the back door, he focused inward.
The numbers were there.
Status
Level: 1
Physical Capacity: 1
Endurance: 1
Coordination: 1
Unchanged.
Jason exhaled slowly.
So effort alone wasn't enough.
That was fine. Systems that handed out rewards too easily were rarely worth trusting.
The day continued.
Customers came and went ;workers, travelers, locals whose routines were etched into muscle memory. Jason learned where things went, which tables wobbled, which customers liked quiet and which liked conversation.
Charlotte drifted in and out of his awareness.
Sometimes she was behind the counter, helping Aldric with the books. Sometimes she sat near the window reading, occasionally glancing up when the door opened. Once, she passed Jason a towel without comment when he realized he'd forgotten one.
No awkwardness. No forced interaction.
It felt… normal.
By afternoon, Mira sent Jason out again this time to collect supplies from a merchant she trusted. She pressed a small coin into his hand beforehand.
"Don't argue," she said when he hesitated. "You'll need it."
Jason nodded and set off.
The streets felt different now that he wasn't lost.
Not familiar, exactly, but navigable. He recognized landmarks. Shortcuts. Faces. The city was beginning to take shape not as a place of mystery, but as a place of function.
On his way back, he took a slightly longer route than necessary.
It wasn't a conscious decision. Just a moment of curiosity ,following a side street that dipped lower than the others, stonework older and darker. The air there felt heavier, cooler.
Nothing happened.
No ambush. No revelation.
He turned back after a few minutes, mildly disappointed and oddly relieved.
When he returned to the inn, Mira took the supplies and nodded approvingly. "You don't wander," she said.
Jason shrugged. "Not much."
"That's good," she said. "Wandering gets expensive."
As evening approached, fatigue finally caught up to him. This time it felt earned. Real.
While clearing the last table, he felt it.
A shift.
Not dramatic. Not sudden.
Just… alignment.
He froze for half a second, then focused inward.
Status
Level: 2
Physical Capacity: 2
Endurance: 1
Coordination: 1
Jason stared at the numbers.
No fanfare. No sensation beyond a subtle easing in his muscles, like tension releasing that he hadn't known was there.
He let out a quiet breath.
So that was how it worked.
Not time. Not intention.
Use.
That night, after supper, the common room filled briefly before thinning out again. Aldric locked the door, banked the fire. Mira retreated upstairs.
Charlotte lingered near the hearth, book forgotten in her lap.
"You're not from around here," she said casually.
Jason smiled faintly. "That obvious?"
She tilted her head. "You listen more than you speak."
He considered that. "Seems safer."
She smiled at that, just a little.
"Well," she said, standing, "don't listen too much. This city doesn't like it."
She went upstairs without waiting for a reply.
Jason sat by the dying fire for a while after that.
He didn't think about worlds, or systems, or why he was here.
He thought about tomorrow.
And somewhere beneath the city, old stone marked his passing without acknowledgment.