Cold.
That was the first thing.
Not just a chill—but a deep, biting cold that seeped into bone and refused to leave.
Adam tried to breathe.
The air stabbed his lungs.
"—gh…!"
His body jerked violently as he sucked in a ragged breath, chest tightening like something was crushing it from the inside. Pain followed immediately—sharp, spreading, unfamiliar.
He coughed.
Dry at first.
Then something warm rose up his throat.
Adam turned instinctively—
—and vomited.
The taste was bitter. Sour. Wrong.
It burned his mouth, his throat, his nose. His stomach clenched again, forcing another wave out even though there was almost nothing left inside him.
"Ugh—!"
His vision swam.
The world tilted.
For a moment, he thought he might pass out again.
What… what is happening…
His thoughts felt slow. Heavy. Like they didn't belong to him.
He tried to move his hand.
It shook.
Badly.
Thin fingers, caked with dirt and something darker, trembled in front of his eyes.
Adam froze.
"…What…"
That wasn't his hand.
Too small.
Too weak.
The skin was rough, bruised in places, with cuts that hadn't healed properly. His nails were broken, packed with grime.
A sharp wave of nausea hit again.
He swallowed hard, forcing it down this time, though his stomach twisted in protest.
"No… no…"
His breathing quickened.
He pushed himself up—
Pain exploded through his body.
"Ah—!"
His arms nearly gave out instantly. His muscles felt like they had no strength, trembling under even the smallest weight. His ribs ached. His back burned. Something in his shoulder throbbed with every movement.
Adam collapsed back onto the ground, gasping.
The surface beneath him was rough.
Not a bed.
Not anything familiar.
Straw.
Damp.
Cold.
And beneath it—
Hard wood.
Slowly, carefully, he lifted his head.
Darkness surrounded him, broken only by faint streaks of gray light slipping through narrow gaps. The space was cramped, suffocating.
And then—
He saw them.
Bodies.
Not dead.
But not far from it.
Men. Women. Children.
All packed tightly together, some lying still, others shifting weakly. Chains clinked softly in the darkness, metal scraping against wood.
A low groan came from somewhere to his left.
Someone coughed.
Another whispered something too faint to understand.
Adam's heart began to pound.
"…No…"
His voice came out thin. Younger. Fragile.
This isn't real.
It had to be a dream.
A nightmare.
Because the last thing he remembered—
Light.
A screen.
The quiet hum of electricity.
Then—
Nothing.
And now this?
His stomach twisted violently again.
"Ugh—!"
He turned to the side and retched, though there was nothing left. His entire body shook as he gagged, tears forming in the corners of his eyes.
The smell hit him again.
Rot.
Sweat.
Blood.
Unwashed bodies pressed too close together.
It was suffocating.
"Hey."
Adam flinched.
The voice was low. Hoarse.
Close.
He turned slowly.
A boy sat not far from him—maybe a little older than this body. His face was thin, eyes sunken but sharp. A metal collar wrapped tightly around his neck, a chain linking it to the wall.
"…You're awake," the boy said.
Adam stared at him, his mind struggling to process.
"…Where… am I…?"
The boy didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he studied Adam like he was trying to figure something out.
Then—
"A slave wagon."
The words hit harder than any blow.
Adam blinked.
"…What?"
"You heard me," the boy replied flatly. "You've been bought. Or will be."
Adam shook his head weakly.
"No… that's not—"
The wagon jolted violently.
Several bodies shifted. Someone cried out as they were thrown against the wooden frame.
Adam grabbed onto the floor instinctively, his already weak body barely managing to stay upright.
The boy didn't react much.
"You'll get used to it," he muttered.
"I don't want to get used to it!" Adam snapped, panic rising. "This isn't—this isn't normal! I was—"
"Before doesn't matter."
The boy's tone sharpened slightly.
Adam froze.
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Unforgiving.
"…What's your name?" Adam asked after a moment, his voice quieter now.
A pause.
"…Rian."
Adam nodded slowly.
"…Adam."
Saying it felt strange.
Like holding onto something that was already slipping away.
Another jolt.
This one harder.
The wagon creaked loudly, wood groaning under stress.
Adam winced as pain flared through his ribs again.
"…How long…" he started, then swallowed. "How long have we been here?"
"Days," Rian replied. "Maybe longer. Hard to tell."
Adam's stomach sank.
Days?
Without food?
Water?
His body suddenly made sense.
The weakness.
The pain.
The nausea.
This body… had already been suffering before he arrived.
A wave of dizziness hit him again.
He leaned back against the wooden wall, closing his eyes briefly.
Cold.
Even through the bodies packed around him, the cold seeped in. His clothes—if they could be called that—were thin, rough, barely enough to cover him.
He shivered.
"…I feel like I'm dying," he whispered.
Rian let out a quiet breath.
"You won't die that easily," he said. "Not yet."
Adam almost laughed.
It came out as a weak exhale.
"…That's not comforting."
"No," Rian agreed. "It's not."
Another silence settled.
Then—
Adam spoke again.
"…You don't sound like a slave."
Rian's eyes flicked toward him.
"…What does a slave sound like?"
"I don't know," Adam admitted. "But not like you."
Rian looked away.
"…I wasn't always one."
Adam's attention sharpened slightly.
"…Then what were you?"
A pause.
Longer this time.
"…My family held land," Rian said finally. "Minor nobility."
Adam blinked.
"…Seriously?"
Rian nodded once, his expression unreadable.
"Small territory. Nothing impressive. But enough."
"…Then how—"
"War," Rian cut in. "Or betrayal."
His hands tightened slightly against the chain.
"We lost."
Adam didn't push further.
He didn't need to.
The answer was already there.
In the chain.
In the collar.
In the hollow look in Rian's eyes.
Another jolt shook the wagon.
Louder this time.
Different.
The sound of movement outside had changed.
More frantic.
Voices shouted—faint, but urgent.
Adam tensed.
"…Do you hear that?"
Rian didn't answer immediately.
He tilted his head slightly, listening.
Then his expression shifted.
Just slightly.
"…Yeah."
"What is it?"
Rian's gaze moved toward the wagon door.
"…Trouble."
The wagon slowed.
Abruptly.
The horses outside neighed loudly, followed by the sound of something crashing.
A man shouted.
Another screamed.
Steel clashed.
Adam's heart began to race again.
"…What's happening?"
Rian didn't look at him.
"…I don't know."
But the way he said it—
Meant he had a guess.
Another impact hit the wagon.
Hard enough to make the entire structure shake.
Dust fell from above.
Someone inside the wagon started crying.
Adam's stomach twisted again, nausea rising sharply.
His hands trembled uncontrollably.
His body wasn't ready for this.
His mind wasn't ready for this.
I can't do this…
Another scream.
Closer.
Cut short.
Then—
Footsteps.
Right outside.
Slow.
Heavy.
Adam held his breath.
The entire wagon seemed to fall silent.
Waiting.
Listening.
The footsteps stopped.
Right at the door.
A shadow blocked the thin light slipping through the cracks.
Adam's chest tightened.
His pulse roared in his ears.
Rian's chain shifted slightly as he moved.
"…Whatever happens," Rian whispered, his voice barely audible—
"Don't freeze."
Adam swallowed hard.
Too late.
Because he already had.
The lock on the door rattled.
Once.
Twice.
Then—
A violent удар shattered the silence.
The wood splintered.
The door began to give.
And in that moment—
Adam realized something with terrifying clarity.
This world—
Wasn't going to give him time to adapt.