The fire had long since died to a bed of smoldering coals when Jake stirred awake. The smell of charred rabbit lingered faintly in the air, and his limbs, sore as they were, moved with practiced caution. He sat up, wiped the crust of blood from his arm, and packed up what little he had.
He took the rusted knife—it barely qualified as a dagger but was better than nothing—along with the waterskin, a few copper and bronze coins, and the last of the rations he'd scavenged from the corpses. He left the clothes. Too large. The morning was cold against his skin, and the world was quiet in a way that felt staged.
Jake moved through the forest like a shadow, barefoot steps careful on the moss-covered ground. He followed the slope of the land and the traces of old deer trails, keeping low and alert. Every sound was a potential threat.
It was midday when he saw the man.
Jake froze.
The man was older, maybe in his thirties, sun-darkened skin and a patchy beard. He wore simple clothes—linen tunic, rough trousers tucked into boots, and carried a worn hoe over one shoulder. A large woven basket hung from his back, filled with leaves and roots. He was muttering to himself as he moved between bushes, plucking plants and shaking dirt from the roots.
An herbalist. Or a farmer.
Jake waited behind a tree, crouched and silent, watching for signs of danger. The man didn't carry a weapon, and his manner was casual. No armor, no shield, no twitchy glances. Jake stepped out slowly, deliberately rustling some leaves to avoid startling him too much.
The man looked up.
"Whoa!" he said, taking a step back. "Hey there, kid! Didn't see you there."
Jake didn't speak right away. He measured the man's tone, his stance, his expression. No aggression. Just surprise.
"You alone out here?" the man asked, squinting at Jake. "Name?"
Jake hesitated. A name. He hadn't chosen one yet. He hadn't needed one.
"My name is Jake Whisper." he said finally, the name spilling out without thought.
The moment he spoke it, a familiar sound echoed faintly inside his mind.
『Name Set: Jake Whisper』
"Well, Jake" the man said, scratching the back of his neck, "strange place for a boy to be wandering. Where're your parents?"
Jake's eyes flicked to the ground, a mask of sadness sliding over his face as easily as breath. "They were attacked while traveling. Bandits. I ran. I didn't know where else to go."
It wasn't a lie—not entirely. There had been death. There had been running.
"Damn," the man muttered, face softening. "Sorry to hear that, lad. You're a brave one, surviving this far out."
He looked Jake over again—bare feet, dirt-smeared skin, blood on his tunic.
"You've got grit, I'll give you that." He set down the hoe and wiped his hands on his pants. "Name's Corin Anot. I'm a farmer in a village not far from here. Not much, but it's safe. If you've got nowhere else to go, you can come with me. I could use an extra pair of hands. You'll get food, a place to sleep. Fair trade?"
Jake nodded. "Deal."
Corin smiled, as if relieved. "Good. Let's get outta these woods then. Not safe for either of us."
They walked together through the forest. Corin took the lead, but not without checking over his shoulder now and then to make sure Jake was close. The man spoke idly about crops, about which herbs were worth coin, and how the slimes had been getting bolder this season.
They passed a broken stone marker near an overgrown path, and Corin pointed toward a line of wooden fencing barely visible in the distance.
"Home," he said. "About twenty families. Mostly quiet folk."
As they crested a hill, the village came into view—small, humble, but real. Smoke drifted from chimneys. Livestock grazed behind fences. People moved about, laughing, shouting, working. Civilization.
...
..
.
Corin led him to a small cottage at the edge of the village. The walls were stone at the base, timber above, with a slanted thatch roof and a sagging porch. A chicken coop stood to one side, and a small patch of garden behind it looked wild with growth.
Inside, it smelled of smoke and earth. Corin gestured toward a rough wooden bench near the firepit.
"You can sleep there for now. It's warm enough, and I'll get you a blanket later."
Jake nodded. "Thank you."
Corin tossed his pack down and began sorting the herbs on a table. "We rise early here. Work from sunup to sundown. I'll need help in the fields the day after tomorrow. Think you can handle that?"
"Yes."
Jake sat quietly, but his mind raced.
Corin offered him a wooden bowl with thick stew—potato, onion, maybe a hint of salted pork. Jake ate it silently, carefully. Every bite brought strength.
That night, lying on the bench with the blanket tucked around his shoulders, Jake opened the interface with a thought.
『 NAME: Jake Whisper
RACE: HUMAN
LEVEL: 4
EXP: 40 / 100
MANA: 10
SKILL: Godly Eye of the Killer (Lv. 1)
STRENGTH: 5
STAMINA: 6
ENDURANCE: 7
INTELLIGENCE: 12
WILLPOWER: 16』