PART - 1

After a quick nod, I picked the coin off the table.

'Thank you very much.' I mouthed the words and left the office with the red-colored emblem in hand.

Though I still have questions to ask, I need more time to figure out the jumbled mess in my brain.

I started walking back toward the bridge while processing the recently acquired information. So basically, there is no adventurer's guild in this world. Not anymore at least.

I did have an alternate option for a job if the adventurer's guild wasn't going to work, that is business. As an idea, it looks like a pretty good option, but it is a LOT MORE complicated than that if you think it through. Firstly, I need an investment to start the business, which I don't have unless I suddenly get the status of an isekai protagonist that I should be getting. Two, the concept for the business. That needs a lot of time to brainstorm, time that I can't afford as of now. Three, the advertising that needs to be done to reach out to the public. So, with those obstacles, this idea might not be the best.

I let out a deep sigh. Suddenly remembering the emblem in my hand, I searched for pockets in my outfit but sadly found none.

Only now that I have taken a look at my clothes have I realized that I am not wearing the same clothes as I wore before I... died in the other world (Jesus, this is so hard to come to terms with). Instead, I'm wearing a beige-colored cotton tunic that reached my knees and black pants.

I would also like to add that I'm wearing briefs to keep DEEZ NUTS in place.

All in all, my attire screamed 'This guy is plebeian'.

Unable to place the emblem in a pocket, I gripped it tightly in my hand. This emblem is the most precious article I have as of now. It is a free pass for a shelter for three days. If I lose this, the odds will be against me so much that I would rather get isekai to yet another world by... maybe by a horse cart?

I'm getting off-topic.

Another option for a job that I can think of off the top of my head is hard labor. I hate this idea. Hard labor in medieval times from what I know didn't have a great life. A physically taxing job that doesn't pay much? No thank you.

As I internally monologued, I found myself crossing the bridge and walking to the other side.

Just a few minutes of walking and I can already say that I was right about the economy on this side is poor.

The farther I walked from the bridge, the poorer the surroundings were.

The place is densely populated with houses, whose residents knew next to nothing about keeping privacy. The residents screamed at top of their voice instead of talking. There were even a few incidents when I heard erotic noises coming from the inside of a home, louder than I would've liked. The people on the roads were also very rowdy and the drunk was making a ruckus.

Coming to this side wasn't the best idea, considering there wasn't much safety around here. No offense to the people here, but I would rather not mingle with them, for I have grown up in a different era where small things like privacy and sanity matter.

I turned around and took a parallel street to go back to the bridge. I didn't have a place to be, so for the night, I decided to sleep there. But damn, sleeping under a bridge is so... depressing. This has the same vibe as something that I absolutely do not like.

Soon I arrived in an open space, surrounded by houses. In the middle of the space is a podium, on which stood a well-dressed man (to medieval standards) reading out an announcement from a scroll.

"... THE WEDDING IS ON THE DAY OF THE RISING OF NEIROOSE, THAT IS, IN 30 DAYS. THE CEREMONY WILL BE CONDUCTED IN THE EL SARHOSA SHRINE."

The announcer continued. Apparently, this is a public announcement of the marriage of a royal.

To the side of the podium, I noticed a queue that led up to another man who distributed something... edible, I assume. How convenient.

I quickly joined the queue, waiting for my turn, while eavesdropping on the conversation two people were having behind me in the queue.

"I don't understand one thing. Why does the duke support that cuntehoare even now?" A man grumbled.

"I don't know. But I wish to see him skinned alive until he pleads for death." The other whispered, with a clear intent of malice.

Ignoring the reply the second man gave, the first said "What has the swine even done to our duchy so far? Did he provide aid when the famine struck? NO. Not a single Sorka was given! That shit licker even increased the taxes the duchy had to pay. If it weren't for our duke, this duchy would've been doomed."

"Have you heard of this? The people are saying that the king is here to take the duchy into his direct control. It seems that this wedding is just a cover so that the people can't argue about him taking over the land"

"HA!" the other man exclaimed "If that's how it is, then I will see that his majesty is torn apart like a rag doll. How dare that mud fucker!"

"Oi! Don't shout" The second man whispered loudly enough for me to listen.

"Hmph, forget it. Even if that's what he wants to do, the people of this duchy wouldn't allow him to." The first man took a short pause before continuing "Victor told me the other day that the king came here because the people in the capital started protesting against the monarchy."

"You mean Victor Barnside?" The second man enquired.

"Yes. He came back from the capital around 8 days ago. He said that the people are very angry at the king for many reasons. One of them is the disappearance of kids from Yearna province. Some are saying that they saw demons take the kids away."

"Demons?!" The second man asked incredulously.

Right when the conversation started getting interesting for me, I notice that the man in front of me is offering me the... edible thing. I took the thing and left the queue. I really wanted to listen in on the rest of the conversation, but the duo took the edible thing and quickly left while eating it.

Though I wanted to bite right into the edible thing (I shall call it a fruit, henceforth) , I noticed black clouds and early signs of rain. So instead, I searched my way back to the bridge.

PART - 2

Except for a few years of my early life, I have always been a lone wolf. I stayed alone all the time, of my own will. I stayed away from the people who approached me, for reasons I don't feel comfortable talking about. Naturally, staying alone has its drawbacks- Bullying.

To no one's surprise, I was bullied. The bullying wasn't as extreme as it is shown in the media, but it isn't the best feeling when you are being bullied. But there is something I learned over the years, stand up to yourself. Until my 8th grade, I did not fight back. But when I did snap for the first time, the bullies did not once again dare to try their so-called 'funny harmless pranks' on me again. The way you fight back doesn't have to be violence, it could also be some complicated mind games.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Oh, I did not specify the reason why I took this sudden tangent, did I?

On my way back to the bridge, in a particularly dark alley, I saw a kid being bullied by three other kids. The victim looked like he is older than the other three, but a lot more weak and frail. The faded and tattered oversized cloak that he wore concealed most of his body, including his face, giving him the look of a hobo kid. He held onto the same fruit as the one I have, as if his entire life depended on it.

One of the kids snatched the fruit from the victim while the other two held onto the victim's arms making the hobo boy's resistance useless. The bully with the fruit then went on to eat, lick and spit onto the fruit, ultimately throwing it onto the ground and crushing it with his foot. The hobo kid's resistance died at the sight of the lump of fruit pulp on the ground.

All of that happened so quickly that I didn't know how to react. But is it okay to stop them? What if I end up in trouble because of this? The hobo boy looks a little younger than me. Shouldn't he know to stand up to himself? That too the ones bullying him are like what? Fourteen? Surely a kid who is nearly seventeen or eighteen can handle three fourteen-year-old bullies, right?

Hm... I would rather not get myself involved in this.

Right when I was about to leave on my own way, I heard a thud followed by a grunt. I looked back into the alleyway to find the hobo boy on the floor, his face still looking at his wasted food. The other kids then proceeded to stomp on the victim, their faces getting wildly excited.

I recognize this expression. I've seen it more times than I would like. It is the expression that arises from predatory behavior. These kids are enjoying their prey's suffering.

They need to be taught a lesson. I felt the urge to kick their puny asses, but right now, I'm alien to this place. I do not know the laws and rules, or how the people would react to something like hitting a kid. Not to mention, I don't want to get in trouble again as I did with the truck incident by getting involved.

Merely remembering that incident made my legs buckle and I almost had a blackout. But I quickly regained composure and stood upright.

"Hey!" I yelled out loud. I paced forward, trying my best to pretend like an angry Karen walking into a shop to ask for the manager. I maintained a stern look on my face, though I doubt they could see it with the sparse lighting.

Upon noticing my arrival the bullies fled, leaving the hobo boy behind. He did not react to my yelling, instead continued to lay on the ground in a fetal position (with his back facing me), quietly whimpering. The boy flinched when I placed my palm on his arm and continued to ask "Are you alright?"

The boy didn't reply. He laid there, continuing to whimper as silently as possible, probably to not let me notice it.

Maybe he can't speak? Or hear? Or maybe he doesn't understand English? Whatever the case is, it is none of my business. I wanted to help him when the bullies were harming him and now I have accomplished it. I will have to leave now so as to not complicate things. Though the bullies left, for now, there is no telling if they will not return with adults. I can certainly handle three kids in combat, but I can't go against a single adult who most likely does hard labor.

I want to flee from this place, but I couldn't just leave this kid who doesn't know to defend himself all alone.

"Can you get up?" I asked.

The kid replied with a slight nod as he struggled to lift himself off the ground. I took his arm and helped him stand up. He pushed himself away from me once he stood up straight, making him lose balance and he fell on his butt.

What's his problem?

He again got onto his feet and made an effort to find balance. I refused to help again, for obvious reasons.

Now that the kid was up, I decided to take my leave. "I'll be going now. You too should leave. Those kids might come back with others, so be quick."

The kid gave me a quick nod again. I turned around and started walking away. Just before I exited the alleyway, I took a quick glance behind me to check on the boy. The boy crouched on the ground and was picking the crushed fruit off th-

"Hey! Stop that!" And yet again I found myself getting involved in something that I shouldn't be bothered about.

He startled and looked at me. For the first time, I saw his face. Well, eyes. The rest of the face is covered with cloth. His eyes looked dull and lifeless. The hunger he felt explained why he looked so heartbroken when the bullies squashed the fruit.

The kid did not throw away the fruit and instead continued looking at me. I lunged forward and pushed his hand away from his mouth. The fruit fell back onto the ground, making it more unappetizing. The kid exchanged looks between his food on the ground and me. Then he grabbed the fruit again and stepped away from me.

I knew this wouldn't end well. I had a bad feeling about this from the beginning.

I sighed and stretched out my hand, offering the boy my fruit.

I really shouldn't be doing this.

His eyes widened, and his disbelief was clearly evident. He strongly wanted to take the fruit from me but hesitated for some reason.

"Take it."

After a moment of the dilemma, he took the fruit hastily from me. He then went on to give me a slight bow.

"Where do you live?" I asked. He stayed quiet, his eyes fixated on the ground.

I should've guessed as much. Suddenly, I got reminded of the emblem in my hand.

Should I give that to him as well? No, I cannot do that. I wouldn't have shelter if I did. But on the other hand, he really needs some good rest to get back to being a healthy individual. Wait, no, what if he is suffering from a chronic illness? Wouldn't that mean it is a useless sacrifice? Me, remember that you are not a cape crusader to go about saving people. Doing this doesn't mean that you are being selfish, this is being logical. It means that you are in a sane condition where you are able to determine what is important for you.

I immediately turned around and left for the bridge without once looking back.

I spent rest of the night under the bridge. I didn't sleep at all. Every time I felt like my mind was going to drift into a slumber, I would see a frightening image of the truck, keeping me awake for another few hours. Especially with all the open space, I had an irrational fear that the truck would somehow sneak up on me to end me.

Though I would've liked to make good use of the 8 or so hours of time, my tired brain just gave up in the first half an hour of thinking. Even that half an hour was anything but productive. My anxiety about the hobo boy's safety soared up. I wondered 'Should I have given him the emblem? No, I did the right thing.' I said to myself.

I also pondered about why the woman at the office deiced to give me the emblem. Because accommodation for three days isn't cheap, regardless of the era. Wait, wait, wait. Chotto matte, what if the emblem means something like 'the person with it has to be murdered?'

The night was quite uneventful and conveniently it didn't rain at night.

PART-3

I stood on my feet and dusted my butt. Ensuring that I still had the red-colored coin in my hand, I got back onto the road. It was probably quite early in the day since I didn't see many people around. I walked up to one of the people walking on the street and asked "Excuse me, where is the Shelter?"

The man raised an eyebrow "Eggs?"

Eggs? What eggs? He doesn't understand English? Hold up. It's a medieval era, so the English here would not contain certain words like 'excuse me' and such?

"Pardon me, where are the Shelters?" I asked again, this time without the modern English word.

He guided while pointing his finger forwards "Walk straight and go left at the third turn."

Bruh, it was the word. How dumb.

I followed his instructions and soon enough I was at the gate guarded by two men. I walked to one of the guards and handed him the red emblem. He examined it for a moment and then returned it to me. He then ushered me to go inside the building and I diligently did so. As soon as I walked inside I saw a receptionist in his early 50s, sitting behind a wooden desk. I walked to him and showed the red emblem in my hand.

His till then dead expression turned into one of annoyance. He turned around and yelled, "Joan! Bring that kid back! We have a red Robrum pass!"

"AYE!" a reply came from across a narrow hallway.

"That kid is quite unlucky. She's been trying to get a room for the past 20 days but it never worked her way. If it wasn't for the stupid army, we would have had more rooms to give." The man spoke as if he were talking to himself.

From the hallway came two people, one of which looked familiar.

"He has a Robrum?" The older of the two asked the receptionist.

"Yes. Show him the room." The receptionist said.

"But what about her?" The man asked, looking at the person by his side. The person is about five and a half feet tall, her body so petite that one would say that she is suffering from malnutrition. Hell, I wouldn't have known that this is a girl if the receptionist didn't specify her adjectives.

The said girl wore a black faded and tattered oversized cloak that concealed most of her body. Her face wasn't covered, unlike yesterday, and had a defeated expression. Her eyes looked just as dead as they did yesterday. Her greasy black hair was tied to a messy-looking bun. As soon as she saw me her thin and puckered lips parted as if she wanted to say something, only to be stopped by the receptionist.

"We don't have any empty rooms, now that this boy has come. Come back after 7 days or so."

The girl almost looked like she was on the verge of breaking down. She stood with her head down, trying her best to not burst into tears.

"Show him his room, Joan." The receptionist said.

The man, Joan, waved for me to follow him through the hallway. Right when I was about to follow him, the girl tightly gripped my sleeve.

"Please, let me stay with you. I beg you. I won't stay in the room during the daytime. I won't use the bed or take your food. Please, I beg of you." The girl spoke while sobbing and snuffling.

I did not know what to do. The situation right now is that there is a single room left and if I were to take it, the girl wouldn't have shelter. But if I share the room with her... I don't have a what-if scenario for this condition yet. Looking at her condition and how weak she is, I wanted to help her. Not just right now, I wanted to help her yesterday as well.

I turned around and looked at her. Her face was flushed red and her legs were shivering, unable to bear her underweight body.

I don't know if its a good idea or not, but since I've been cornered and being asked for a decision by this stupid ass narrative, "Alright"

The girl collapsed onto her knees and bowed down, with her head near my feet, and uttered "Thank you, sir."