He hadn't gotten that far when he couldn't move further anymore because of his body weakness. By this time, he had already crossed three crowded and noisy streets before his vision began to blur again.
Feeling embarrassed more than hunger, he had already left Kargoth market far behind as quick as possible as he walked farther from the row of vendors at the square end. The shouting and more frequent footsteps had now softened into murmurs and almost silenced noises. He was getting closer to the residential areas.
However, his stomach would not stop twisting and grumbling. Before anything, he needed food first...
... But how? He had wanted to get something from the market with the coin he had at hand, but shame had made him not to.
'I can't go back anymore.'
Thinking himself hopeless, he looked down at the coin in his hand again. It was still there. Well, it was not that it had anywhere to go. He couldn't be so careless as to have him misplace the only valuable possession he had managed to acquire... from alms.
'I didn't beg for it though.' He thought to himself, in hope to comfort his displeasure.
He then turned it over. The unfamiliar markings were still there. One side of the coin had a drawing of a crest. Some writings were around the edge of the drawing in a language that looked similar to English… but not quite. At that moment however, he saw that he could decipher what it meant.
'Weird. When did I know about this writing?'
Squinting at the metal coin, he wondered what the little piece of metal could cost. Who knows? It could get him a complete breakfast.
"What are you worth…" he muttered under his breath.
A man passing by gave him a brief pitiful glance, and then dismissed him instantly.
'Huh.'
He felt so heartbroken at that gaze. In the real world, he had never earned that gaze before. His lifestyle back there was too lofty to earn such belittling look.
But what could he do? Nothing.
This was not the real world anyway. This was a different world entirely, and he was a completely different person now. The difference was worse though. In this world, he might be visible, but he knew he was not significant.
As he continued walking in hope to find at least a place that'll accept the coin as exchange for food, he espied a bakery stall some distance away across the street. The smell hit him immediately.
'Bread! Warm bread!'
Though he had not tasted the food of this world, the aroma that diffused into his nostrils was tantalizing enough for his stomach to growl louder this time.
Managing to form saliva in his mouth, he swallowed and crossed the street carefully, almost getting hit by a passing cart again.
"Watch it, lad!"
"S-Sorry," he mumbled involuntarily. It was then he realized he was speaking a strange language.
Huh, when did—
Then he arrived at the bakery. The bakery stall was very simple and moderate. Inside it, there were wooden counters with loaves stacked in uneven rows. The loaves... looked so soft and fresh! He saw a woman behind the counters. Her hands were dusted slightly with flour.
'Coin, get me one of these heavenly treats and I'll forever be grateful!' He was already salivating... oh, there were no saliva to produce because his mouth was dry from extreme hunger, so he was simply licking his dehydrated lips.
Suddenly noticing his approach, the woman in the stall looked up to him.
... And down to his clothes, before returning her gazes back to the bread.
'Huh, don't look at me like that. I'm rich! I just didn't have money here.'
He hesitated a little before speaking up, though. He didn't know if the coin was worth anything. He just had to try.
"How much… for one?" he tentatively asked, gesturing awkwardly.
She didn't even answer immediately. She just looked at him again, calculating him with her eyes like he was a wanted criminal that broke out of prison.
"Depends," she said flatly.
'Huh? Whatever.'
He tentatively placed the coin on the counter. Her eyebrow lifted slightly. At that moment, he felt a small chill run down his spine. He was seemingly afraid of ladies' naggings, so he was trying to avoid trouble.
'What's wrong? I hope it's worth it.'
She picked it up, turned it over and weighed it in her hand.
'Just gimme the damn bread if it's worth it.'
He could swear he wanted to close his eyes. He was feeling more anxious.
Just then, the woman slid him a small loaf that was not from the counter. Though it exhuded a fresh smell, it was not fresh like the ones on the counter and looked slightly harder to tear. He wanted to protest, but he hesitated. Bread was bread, and they all serve the same purpose.
"Next time, wash," the woman said curtly.
He nodded quickly and grabbed the bread before she begins reconsidering. That was not going to be good.
He immediately stepped away from the stall and bit into it almost immediately with his dirty teeth.
Though it wasn't soft, that didn't matter right now. He chewed and endured the pain in his weak teeth gums. Just as the taste of the hard bread hit his tongue, his whole body nearly trembled in relief. He didn't even realize how fast he was eating until he was already halfway through. It was almost involuntary, like the hungry body was controlling him.
'Slow down. Slow down!'
He immediately forced himself to chew it properly.
"Can I get some water pls?" He spoke.
Now that he had solved the problem of food, he now needed a time to think. Food had solved the immediate collapse problem. Clothes were the next things to get... but not with money this time.
And he had to get them as soon as possible, because he could see two boys across the street watching him with pitiful interest. He broke eye contact immediately he noticed them.
'Ahh, I hate those gazes.'
Right. He couldn't remain like this. He had to get clothes now. He glanced around again, this time more deliberately.
A house. A workshop. A house. A storage shed. A textile shop. A side alley.
He stopped his gaze at the narrow alleyway beside a textile shop. And there was a rack with clothes on it.
'There's some!' He wanted to rush over before, but he hesitated. Then he looked left and right. No one was paying attention to him.
'Good.'
The two boys watching him earlier had lost interest in watching. The shopkeeper of the textile shop was inside, arguing loudly with some customer over fabric measurements. This was his good chance.
However, his heartbeat still ticked up. He stared at the clothes again, with more vigilance of his immediate environment. He was getting nervous. It was simply because he had never stolen before. Or maybe… not that he remembered by the way.
Summoning enough courage, he walked casually towards the rack.
'Don't rush. And don't look guilty. They won't notice.'
Reaching the rack of clothes, he pretended to examine the stitching of a coat.
'This one's too heavy. This one's too obvious for a malnourished person.'
After searching through the rack, he finally made an impatient decision.
'A shirt then.'
The short though, was large. Even much larger than his thin frame. He glanced toward the shop interior again.
'Heh, keep arguing. Good. Take it and walk away, now that you have the chance.'
His hands though, were already trembling slightly. Just then, the thought of getting immediately caught came to his mind. He didn't know what trouble he'd be getting himself into if he was. But after passing through the market down to this place, he could infer that the people of this world were strict down to their resources and so they don't joke with even a tiny pin.
'Huh, now's not the time. Get away now!'
He pulled the shirt from the rack and folded it over his arm like he intended to purchase it. Then, he walked away in tentative steps.
One step.
Two steps.
Three steps.
He looked back. No one shouted.
Four steps.
Five—
"Hey!"
'Huh,' his heart suddenly dropped as chill ran down his spine.
'Run!'
He turned around to run, but instead of running, he simply stopped. His body was trembling slightly. Running was confirmation that he had done something guilty. So he turned around slowly, facing the direction where the voice came from behind him. And there, a man was standing right in front of him at the alley entrance, looking directly at him!
'What should I do? What should I do? Think fast. Think fast, Ben!'
But then he noticed it was not the shopkeeper. It was simply a passerby.
"You blocking the way or what?" the man snapped. He blinked on having the man said that.
"Oh, sorry," he muttered quickly and shifted aside for the man to pass. The man brushed past him, not even sparing the folded shirt in a second glance. He was finally able to breathe again!
Without wasting much time, he walked like a normal person and turned corner after another, until he was three streets away. It was only then that he ducked into a narrower alley and pressed his back against the wall, panting heavily. Letting out a sigh that was almost a smile, he whispered,
"That was… easier than expected."
He stripped off the torn rag on him quickly and pulled the oversized shirt over his head.
... But why did it seem to swallow him whole?The sleeves extended past his wrists. Even the hem was not spared as it fell almost to his knees!
He stared down at it with a dejected expression.
'Ridiculous.'
But at least, this one was cleaner, compared to the torn rag. This alone felt like an improvement. He folded the rag and dumped it into a wastebin nearby.
Immediately he stepped back onto the main road, he could tell the difference in people's gazes—though some still stared because of the huge fabric. At least now, he looked less like refuse and more like a poor laborer. That distinction was what mattered for him. He rolled the sleeves slightly.
He began walking again, this time with more observance. But then, he began to notice things he hadn't earlier. He saw a guard stationed at the corner. Two men in dark coats were speaking quietly near a lamppost. One of them was putting on a silver ring with an intricate circular design. He kept staring at it until he mistakenly did a second too long. Which attracted the attention of the man putting it on. The man's eyes flickered toward him. It felt so sharp and accessing. He immediately looked away and kept walking.
'Why was he looking at me like that? Don't draw attention.'
He turned a corner and left that place. This time, the crowd had reduced. This place seemed less crowded.
Sighing in relief, his head felt somewhat clearer now that he'd eaten. Which meant the bigger problem returned to his mind.
'Transmigration.'
He exhaled slowly.
If this really was another world… then he had zero leverage. In this world, he had no identity, no allies or even any skill. He was simply a total nobody.
Besides, what skill did he have? He tried listing them mentally.
'Reading.'
'Writing.'
'Basic math.'
'Internet browsing—'
At that moment, he paused. Infact, he almost laughed.
'Internet? It's completely useless here. I doubt there are telephones around.'
At that moment, he was passing by a small reflective surface in a shop window and hesitated before looking. However as he looked, he saw a young thin figure staring back at him horribly. His hair was very long... and randomly interlocked. There were much thicker knots in different parts of his hair, and his cheekbones were sharper. His eyes were slightly darker, and his skin were more sallow, which made him look more...
'...like a midnight clown.' He wanted to lament, but he chose not to. His lamentation was not going to change anything though.
To confirm if it was really him, he pressed his fingers against his bony cheek. The reflection did the same. He swallowed.
"Alright," he whispered to himself, "We adapt." and stepped back from the glass.
Across the street, his attention was caught by a sudden commotion. Two guards were escorting a man, holding him firmly by the hands, but they were holding him in such a way one could tell that they were not being violent with him. The man being held too, wasn't resisting. His pale face was sweating, and he kept muttering something under his breath. The guards held him with more caution.
Managing to notice it, he saw that one of the man's eyes looked… slightly red. But when the man blinked, the red was gone.
'It must be light reflections.'
The guards disappeared around the corner along with the strange man. His instincts told him something about it that didn't feel ordinary to him, but he had no evidence yet to interpret it. So he simply shrugged it away. It was none of his business anyway.
Now, all he needed was to get somewhere to rest. Somewhere secluded and unnoticed. After walking for a while, he spotted a sign hanging crookedly above a narrow door. The lettering on the sign was faded but still readable enough. It read:
"Lodging."
Staring at it, he remembered he still had part of the coin left after buying bread. The woman had returned smaller coins to him, but he just hadn't counted them yet.
He stepped inside after thinking things through. The interior of the lodge smelled of damp wood and old smoke. A man behind the counter looked up lazily at him. There were huge eyebags beneath his eyes.
"How much?" he asked upon getting inside.
"Night's cheap, if you don't complain."
"How much?" he asked again.
The man held up four fingers.
He hesitated, then tentatively placed the coins on the counter. He didn't know if the man meant four of these smaller coins or the bigger ones like the one he spent on bread earlier.
Counting the coins on the table, the man paused and grunted. "Upstairs. Last door." The man's response demanded no questions.
Hearing that, he sighed in relief, 'Thank goodness.' He managed to climb the narrow staircase slowly. His legs were still unsteady though.
Reaching upstairs, he saw the last room at the corner. It was a very small room. Inside it was a small bed at a corner of the small room, a cracked basin with a round mirror of intricate designs hanging above it on the wall beside the topside of the bed, a vintage-style wall lamp beside the basin, which lighted the room in its own pale glow, and a window was on the other side of the room, facing the basin. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it. He was not one to complain though. His current body needed more food and his current mind, more rest. Finally sprawling on the bed in satisfaction—according to the body's condition—, he exhaled long and slow. He then towards the window.
"Day one," he muttered.
He didn't die... or get arrested for theft. That was something for him. But the city felt… larger than survival alone.
And as the light shifted toward evening, he couldn't shake the feeling that something about this world was layered. There was something...
Hidden, and waiting.
He was unaware of it all, for now.