The warm breeze of the capital brushed gently against Ken's skin. He wandered through wide, stone-paved streets, gazing up at the tall buildings and colorful banners that fluttered in the wind.
The kingdom was alive — filled with merchants shouting their wares, children laughing, nobles riding horses, and adventurers moving confidently in their gear.
For the first time since this curse began, Ken wasn't dying.
Not yet.
But there was one problem.
"I need money…" he muttered, stomach growling again.
He hadn't eaten since the day he first tried to steal that bread — and the hunger never left him.
Ken approached a fruit stand and eyed a juicy red apple, but the price tag hit him like a slap.
"Five bronze? I don't even have a single one…"
He sighed and walked toward the plaza, where people gathered around a fountain. There, Ken began asking around.
"Excuse me," he asked a man in a leather apron, "do you know where I could get a job?"
The man squinted at him. "Try the hunter's guild. Monsters pay well if you've got guts."
Ken forced a smile and moved on.
He stopped near a group of merchants. "Any work for someone like me?"
One woman raised an eyebrow. "Start a business, maybe. Selling potions or tools."
Business? Guilds? Fighting monsters?
Ken walked away before they finished talking.
"Forget that," he muttered. "I hate jobs."
His stomach let out a loud growl.
"I'll just beg. That's better than dying to some monster."
Ken stood near the edge of the plaza and spotted a middle-aged man in noble robes passing by.
He stepped forward. "Sir, do you have any coin to spare?"
The man glanced at him and sneered. "Piss off, brat."
Ken's eye twitched. He clenched his fists.
"Say that again," he growled, voice sharp, "and you'll regret it."
The man stopped mid-step and turned to face him.
But before he could reply, another voice cut through the air.
"What did you just say?"
It was firm. Cold.
Ken turned and saw a guard standing nearby, hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
"I wasn't talking to you—"
"You threatened a citizen," the guard interrupted.
Ken's eyes widened. "No, wait, that's not—!"
Before he could run or explain, two more guards appeared and grabbed his arms.
"You'll be spending some time in the cells," one said.
Ken struggled. "You don't understand, I didn't mean—!"
The guard didn't respond.
They dragged him through the plaza as people watched, some whispering, some laughing.
Ken's heart sank.
"So even here… in the one place I thought I'd be safe…"
The stone gates of the city prison creaked open.
They pushed Ken into a small, cold cell.
"You'll stay here for a while," the guard muttered before walking away.
Ken slumped against the wall, head in his hands.
"I just wanted some food."
"Why does this always happen to me?"