"I was awakened by the sound of people whispering, talking beside me. My head pounded, and a wave of nausea swept over me as I tried to make sense of my surroundings. Disoriented, I struggled to open my eyes, only to be met with the sight of a dimly lit, unfamiliar room. The air was thick with the scent of earth and wood, a stark contrast to the sterile environment of my apartment back on Earth."

'Where am I?' I wondered, my mind racing. The last thing I remembered was playing my favorite game, my character Sigismund leading an army to victory. Yet here I was, lying on a straw mat in what appeared to be a primitive hut. 'Did I pass out? Am I dreaming?'

When my vision finally cleared, I saw seven unfamiliar faces staring down at me. They looked like a family, dressed in simple clothes—no, more accurately, rags. Not because they were in tatters or dirty, but because they seemed to be made from low-quality materials. This was typical of the medieval era, something I was very familiar with from my studies. The father was a well-built man, not skinny nor fat, with the right amount of muscles that showed in his arms. Although his face was covered with a thick beard, I could tell he looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties. The mother, despite the lines of hardship etched into her face, was undeniably beautiful and seemed to be around the same age as the father. The oldest son, lanky but with a good build typical of someone experienced in manual labor, looked to be around 15 to 17 years old. The older daughter, with her black hair, looked to be around 14 to 16 and was equally striking. The second son, a bit lanky but clearly accustomed to hard work, seemed to be around 12 to 14 years old. The two youngest children, a boy and a girl, looked to be around 5 to 7 years old, their black hair framing their innocent faces.

They were speaking in a language I didn't recognize, a melodic yet foreign tongue. The father was trying to talk to me, perhaps to see if I was still feeling unwell. At least, that's what I would have asked if the situation were reversed.

"Where am I?" I mumbled, trying to sit up, but the effort made my head spin. The family exchanged concerned glances, their voices hushed but urgent. The mother slowly approached me and spoke softly, her eyes filled with concern. "Avarien thaen? Nor farrat ilthar norash na'riath tha. Ilthos anvor an nor ath. Miren aen norath an darven lor nor anvara farrenin. Ver thalvar?"

I blinked at her, completely lost. The language was unlike anything I'd ever heard before. Was I on a movie set? Had someone from the medieval actors guild decided to prank me? But everything felt far too realistic—the smells, the textures, the expressions on their faces.

'This can't be a dream,' I thought, panic rising in my chest. 'And if it's a prank, it's a damn elaborate one.'

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The mother gently placed a hand on my shoulder, her touch warm and reassuring. She repeated her words, slower this time, as if trying to help me understand. But it was no use. I shook my head, trying to convey my confusion.

The father stepped forward, his expression a mix of frustration and sympathy. He said something to the others, and they began to move around the hut, gathering what looked like food and water. The older son handed me a wooden cup filled with water, and I gratefully took a sip, the cool liquid soothing my parched throat.

As I drank, I tried to make sense of my situation. I had studied countless medieval texts, learned about the lives of peasants and nobles, knights and kings. But living it? This was something else entirely. I had always fantasized about experiencing the past, but now that I was here, it was overwhelming.

'I need to get my bearings,' I thought, taking another sip. 'Figure out where I am and how I got here.'

The family continued to speak among themselves, their language a soothing background murmur as I tried to piece together the fragments of my memory. The last thing I recalled was playing my game, leading Sigismund into battle. Then... nothing. Just a blank.

I glanced around the hut, taking in the simple furnishings—the wooden table, the rough-hewn chairs, the small fireplace where a pot of something savory was simmering. This wasn't a dream. It was too detailed, too immersive. But if it wasn't a dream, then what was it?

The mother approached me again, this time holding a bowl of stew. She offered it to me with a kind smile, her eyes gentle and patient. "Vara," she said, pointing to the bowl and then to her mouth. "Vara."

I nodded, grateful for her kindness. As I took the bowl and began to eat, I couldn't help but marvel at the situation. Here I was, in a medieval hut, being cared for by strangers who spoke a language I didn't understand. It was like something out of a novel or one of my games, yet it was real.

As I ate, I tried to communicate with them, using gestures and simple words. The family seemed patient, willing to help me learn. The older daughter pointed to various objects and said their names, repeating them until I could mimic her. It was a slow process, but I was learning.

The father resumed his attempts to communicate, speaking slower and gesturing more. I caught a few words here and there, enough to piece together basic sentences. They asked me questions, simple ones about where I came from, how I ended up here. But my answers were vague, filled with uncertainty.

Hours passed, and the sun began to set outside the small window of the hut. The family prepared makeshift beds for the night, spreading out blankets and furs on the hard-packed dirt floor. They offered me a place to sleep, a corner of the hut where I could rest.

As I lay down on the rough bedding, my mind raced with unanswered questions. How had I ended up here? Was this some elaborate prank, or had something truly extraordinary happened? And most importantly, was there a way back home?

'I'll figure it out,' I resolved, staring up at the thatched roof above me. 'One way or another, I'll find a way.'

With that thought, I closed my eyes and let exhaustion finally overtake me. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new opportunities to unravel the mystery of this strange world and my place in it.