Day 1, 2:00 PM

“Fool me once, shame on you;

fool me twice, shame on me”

— Unknown

My first adventure sucks balls. My guts are growling, and I’m starving. I have no idea when my body has last eaten before I possessed it, and annoying blue windows, sprouting gibberish I can’t read, flash before my eyes every now and then, but I mentally wave them away.

I have been stumbling through the dim forest since daybreak, sun always at my back. My gut roils, telling me that eating those red berries several hours ago was a huge mistake. I puked them when I caught the first symptoms of food poisoning, but it was too late. Now, I’m forced to dash into the bushes every now and then.

While bad, at least my luck isn’t horrible. I stumbled across a stream half an hour ago. I washed myself and drank my fill. My intestines dance a jig, and I duck into an unfortunate bush. Again. I squat, obscured by leaves, contemplating all the things I have done wrong. I think a fistful of poisonous berries has done a better job at prompting me to think of my life’s choices than hell has.

I think of the irony, trying to piss out of my ass, when I hear a sudden rustle.

“He should be somewhere around here,” an unknown male voice says some ten yards away from me. I consider my position and heft the club in my hand when I hear another whisper.

“He’s dangerous,” Abe says, a bit closer than the other man.

Et tu Abe? You ungrateful goat-faced human cockroach, I’ll bash your brains this time. As the rustle grows closer, I’m grateful my bowels are empty, lacking even air to pass and betray my location. Bit by bit, I tug my pants up and wait.

A twig snaps two steps away from me, and I pounce. In a single leap, I come face to face with three men standing shoulder to shoulder. They flinch from my sudden appearance, and I use the opening.

I heave, and my looted cudgel whizzes through the air and cracks the middle one’s skull. Blood sprays into the eyes of the man to his left. He closes them and moves his hand to wipe them.

Right! I choose my next target and jerk my arm right. The club shatters his temple and sends him tumbling to the ground just as his club smashes into my shoulder.

Luckily, the blow isn’t as hard as it could have been. The attacker is already dead, he’s flying away from me, and his muscles are somewhat loose. Combined, those factors softened the blow, which fortunately missed bone.

Still, not even a second has passed, and I’m already injured.

The blue screen flickers into existence, but I dismiss it even before it fully forms. Who has the time to read this nonsense while fighting?

I glance at the final pursuer, the man is still struggling to see, rubbing blood out of his eyes. I clobber the life out of him without mercy. I spare him one extra strike before jumping towards my real enemy.

Abe knew he’s not my match, so he started running after I clubbed two of his cronies. Still, the old man can’t run fast, and I catch up to him in no time.

“Spare me, I didn’t even scream for help.”

I scoff at his pathetic grimace and the snot fleeing his nose. “That’s because there’s nobody within earshot. Besides, you were running.”

Should I torture him? The distasteful thought crosses my mind for an instant, but I dismiss it. Taking betrayal personally is bad for the nerves. I think someone said you need to learn not to take things personally before forty if you don’t want to die of a heart attack. I guess too few people pissed on him.

“Why Abe? You could’ve let me flee, and you would have survived. You even killed these three kids.” I pause.

I realize too late that my body is probably the same age as the kids I killed, maybe younger.

Abe must have interpreted my silence as a desire for him to say something to vindicate himself so I can spare him.

He opens his mouth to make an empty excuse, but I don’t care. I smash his head with a single strike and a rancid feeling in my gut. My vindictive side wanted to drag out his death, but there really was nothing to gain by acting like a savage.

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He’s a bastard, but he shouldn’t suffer. Who knows, the bitches in the reincarnation bureau might count it as merit or mitigating circumstances and give him a better life next time.

That thought makes me pause. Is that why the world’s going to hell?

I discard the irrelevant thought, and this time, I handle the dead better than the last. I relieve them of their clothes and dress myself properly. Then I search them for money and food, finding no sign of the former, but the guys did carry some useless trinkets and several pieces of dry bread and jerky, all in relatively clean sacks. No pockets, though. Not a single one on all their pants and tunics.

I believe jerky should last longer than bread? With that uncertain thought, I chomp on the hard bread and immediately regret my choice. The chunk of steel, which the sadistic baker painted brown and beige to disguise it as an edible, stabs into my tongue and gums without mercy.

I spit it out into my hand, but sure enough, what I just tasted was bread. I feel around my mouth, but there’s no blood and my teeth are in place. Despite how painful, the bread and jerky are the only supplies I have on hand, and knowing my luck, I’ll need that jerky one day.

I should find more water to soften the bread. I stuff the bits I spat back into my mouth and slowly soak them in saliva as I continue roaming the forest. Even softened and chewed, the traitorous bits of bread scrape against my throat as I swallow them. For a moment, I fear they will get stuck at the center of my chest, and I swallow a mouthful of spit to help the bread in its downward journey to my gut.

I expected it would land like in the toons, distorting my body, accompanied by the sound of crashing glass, but the sensation of something edible entering my stomach feels like a blessing. I have no idea what my body ate before, but it reacts to this slab of concrete as if it were prime steak.

Despite how I feel about the bread, I devour it in no time. I gulp down the last piece, and the blue screen appears.

[⌭Ω©°æ∆⚇π°π∆†πß\

⌭Ω©◎°æ©ß¬π◎°✌︎Ω©ß†π◎°≠✢°◎π✢π†\]

I have no idea what it says, but the timing probably has something to do with my meal. For a moment I consider I may have gotten an achievement for a first successful meal, but that sounds like a cheap badge you got for logging into a game for the first time on Vapor.

Somewhat sated, I continue wandering the forest. I have kept the sun at my back the entire time since sunrise, believing that if I keep heading north, I’ll eventually leave the woods. As hours pass, the forest grows even darker, and I realize the sun will soon set.

I should find a shelter.

I stumble around, looking for a hollow when I find a cave entrance partially obscured by creepers. I’m no master explorer, but I know the basics about unknown caves in unknown forests. I frown as I look around. I search for animal tracks, like bears, wolves, or something, but instead I find a single set of boot-prints going in.

Again, I’m no tracker, and I can’t tell how old the prints are, but the grass is still stomped into the ground, so it should be fairly recent. Also, there’s only a single set, going in without going out. I take the club out of my belt, when I realize several things.

My attackers move in groups, but only one person entered this cave. Based on the shoe size, they are a child, a woman, or a midget. The bandits are searching for the Little Missy. These deductions naturally led me to one other, but I don’t dare believe my luck is that good. It never is.

Still, a smile escapes me, and an ember of hope flickers in my heart.

“Little Missy,” I whisper, before the vine-covered cave entrance. “I’m here to help.”

A gentle pale hand emerges from the vines, moving them aside, revealing a young brunette with disheveled hair. There’s still enough light to see her emerald eyes shine with hope, then her pupils dilate in terror.

“Stay away,” she hisses, brandishing a knife towards me as the green curtain closes.

I take a moment to realize the sudden change.

“Little Missy, I killed the attackers and stole their clothes. I’m alone.” I stab my club back into my rope-belt and step away. The gloom is already claiming the woods, but she should see well enough to tell I’m speaking the truth.

Luckily, the young lady isn’t too stupid. Either that, or she’s desperate. The vine curtain shifts, this time she uses her knife to move it. She frowns as she looks at me. Her critical inspection lasts for several long moments, before her tense face relaxes somewhat.

“You are Aang, the porter?” Her furrowed brows and the lack of certainty with which she guessed my identity tells me the young woman has only superficial knowledge of Aang the porter, but that suits me just fine.

“Yes, Little Missy, that’s me.” I nod and flash her a winning smile.

Her expression flickers several times, but she leaves her den, and I eye my new travel companion.

She’s decent. Eighteen-nineteen years old, probably a year or two older than my body. Her breasts are a bit smaller than I like, waist slightly thicker, but she has a pretty face.

The glint of cold haughtiness in her eyes is unpleasant, but I can’t complain, considering I’m a slave ogling his mistress. That’s when I realize I am ogling her.

It’s been two eternities since I’ve last seen a real woman. I wonder whether this could be one of those stories in which I become a hero? I save the young heiress. We overcome several challenges and dangers, fall madly in love, and get married. I could become a lord, maybe even a king?

The brief, indulgent fantasy doesn’t seem impossible. I’m in some medieval world, stuck with a pretty young woman in a dangerous forest. That’s how plenty of fairytales start.

“Don’t worry, Little Missy.” I straighten up and flash her another winning smile. “I have already killed seven attackers. I’ll keep you safe as long as you stay with me.”