After I left the palace, I wandered aimlessly through the streets, my chest heavy and my thoughts louder than the chatter around me. My feet dragged themselves to Jack's shop like they had nowhere else to go. I stepped inside, still fuming, my heart clenched so tightly I thought I might scream.
Jack looked up, surprised. "Heya, kid. What happened? You look like you're about to blow off some steam. Tell you what—since you're in a bad mood, I'll give you a discount on anything in the store—"
I didn't answer. I stormed up to the counter, eyes dark, and dropped a pouch of coins in front of him with a heavy thud.
"Room. Now," I growled, my voice sharper than a blade.
Jack raised an eyebrow, folding his arms with confusion. "Listen, kid, this is a blacksmith shop, not some kind of place to—"
I slammed my palm onto the counter. My hand shook with frustration, and my knuckles turned white.
"Just shut up and let me sleep here, you bald old man," I snapped, my voice cracking slightly at the end.
He blinked, caught off guard by my anger—by the pain behind it. There was a long pause. Then he sighed, his posture slumping with reluctant sympathy, and pulled open the curtain leading to the back room.
It was cramped. Dusty. Covered in broken weapons and rusted armor. But to me, it was a sanctuary. I muttered a quick "Thanks," and disappeared behind the curtain, curling up on the floor like a kicked dog.
The ceiling above was cracked, wooden beams worn by time. I stared at it, hollow inside.
Is this it? I wondered. Is this what my second chance amounts to? Sleeping in a blacksmith's junk room like some unwanted stray...?
Back in my old world... I was the youngest in the family. Three older brothers. Two older sisters. Parents who seemed perfect to everyone else. But me? I was always hurting inside, and no one cared to see it.
Every time I had a headache, or stomach pain, or even something small like a toothache—I stayed quiet. I learned to stay quiet.
I remembered one night, a blister inside my mouth burned so badly I couldn't even sleep. I told my mom about it, hoping for help. But then—one of my brothers laughed.
"Stop being an attention seeker."
That one sentence... it stuck to my heart like a blade. It bled every time I remembered.
From that day, I decided: no more complaining. No more showing pain. Because to them, I was always overreacting. Always "seeking attention."
But they never noticed them. How they'd push me aside when someone was around. How they raised their voices, made scenes, played the good child in front of guests. They were the real performers.
I was just... the youngest.
I tried to learn from them. Tried to help. But I was "too young." "Too dumb." "Too spoiled." And whenever I spoke up—gave advice—they pretended to fall asleep in front of me. Like I didn't even exist.
But I loved them anyway. I was the youngest, after all.
Still... that pain buried itself in me. Quietly. Deeply. And I swore to myself—I'll never treat someone younger than me this way. Ever.
"Youngest... youngest... youngest..." I whispered through clenched teeth. Each word came out harsher than the last. My chest felt tight. My throat burned. I stared at the ceiling, biting my tongue until the bitterness passed.
Then Jack's voice cut through the silence.
"Ahmaddd!"
I sat up quickly, throwing the curtain open with a forced groan, pretending I'd just woken up—even though I hadn't slept a second.
"Yeah?" I muttered, irritated and tired.
At the counter stood a woman—stunning, with dark flowing hair and skin pale as moonlight. She smiled and gave me a small wave.
"She said she was supposed to join you earlier, but she overslept," Jack explained. "That's why she didn't show up with the others."
My heart eased, just a little. I smiled faintly, touched by her simple gesture. She came for me.
"Congrats, then," I said, trying to sound upbeat. "I'm Ahmad. What's your name?"
"Prodosia," she replied, her voice warm and inviting.
For the first time in what felt like forever... I felt seen. Not judged. Not doubted. Just... acknowledged.
But of course, Jack had to ruin the moment.
"So... you're a hero? Why didn't you ever tell me that?"
I turned to him with an empty stare, eyes locked.
"I did tell you. I come here all the time."
Jack scratched his head, pretending to forget. I knew he remembered. He just didn't care.
"I was literally here an hour ago, Jack. Don't play dumb."
He sighed in defeat.
Prodosia tilted her head. "To be honest, I didn't think you were a hero because... your, uh, skin—"
"Yeah, same," Jack interrupted, laughing awkwardly.
I clenched my teeth for a second, then forced a breath.
"Yeah. I get it. I'm tanned. Not that dark. Where I'm from, it's normal. I lived in the jungle."
Their eyes widened, brows lifting in sync. I waited for a laugh, a sneer—but it didn't come.
Instead, they listened. Really listened.
For once.
"No wonder Ahmad didn't get any team from the adventurer's guild," Prodosia said softly, her tone heavy with sympathy.
The shop grew quiet. I felt my heart sink. But then Jack cracked a smile.
"Well hey, at least you got kissed by the sun!"
That got a giggle out of me. I couldn't help it. Some places did call people like me "sun-kissed."
"Jack, didn't you promise a discount?" I said with a sly grin. "I want it now."
I turned to Prodosia, that warm feeling returning.
"Pick any weapon you want. I'll buy it for you."
Jack sighed, visibly regretting his earlier generosity. But he didn't argue.
Once Prodosia dropped her chosen weapons at the counter, Jack counted the total.
"Thirty-four gold coins... You know, I already lost thirteen earlier because of that armor you picked out. You're bleeding me dry, kid."
I leaned on the counter, smirking.
"I used to argue with shopkeepers back home. Picked up a few tricks watching my siblings screw up negotiations."
He raised an eyebrow, amused. "So you're a little con artist now, huh?"
Before I could respond, Prodosia cut in with a hopeful smile.
"Why don't we go train together? You've been working hard—you deserve to get stronger."
Her eyes sparkled with excitement. How could I say no?
After we left and passed the city gates, we trained for hours, slaying small monsters. They didn't look dangerous, but they still hurt like hell.
Eventually, as the sun painted the sky orange, Prodosia glanced over, breathless and smiling.
"Since we've been killing those ugly things for hours... why don't you check your status? I bet you've leveled up a ton."
I smiled, wiping sweat from my brow.
"Status."
A familiar blue screen blinked to life before me:
---
Level: 1
Strength: 15/100 (↑8)
Dexterity: 22/100 (↑5)
Constitution: 30/100 (↑12)
Intelligence: 20/100 (↑15)
Wisdom: 3/100
Charisma: 7/100
Luck: 8/100 (↑7)
Skill: Misidentification – 100% chance to misidentify objects.
---
My eyes widened. My heart skipped a beat. It worked... It's actually working.
Then another window popped up:
---
New Ability Unlocked: View Extend Lv. 1
---
I gasped and jumped like a kid on their birthday. My joy exploded out of me. Finally—finally—something useful!
Prodosia laughed gently, patting my shoulder.
"You've earned it. Why don't we celebrate? There's a new cabin nearby. A nice one. Let's go."
Her smile was kind. Sincere. I nodded, still glowing inside.
"Sure. Lead the way, Prodosia."
We made our way to the cabin. The scent of grilled chicken filled the air when we entered—warm and comforting.
I paid for both of us. It felt good, being able to do that.
Over dinner, she ordered a bottle of wine and tried to get me to drink. I politely refused, telling her I preferred water.
Eventually, I left her downstairs with her wine, and headed up to bed.
For once, I felt... something close to peace.