Journal – Day 1
I’m writing this to make sense of what’s happened to me—and in the small hope that, if I don’t find them, my friends will at least know what became of me.
To put it simply, I believe I am Gine Silverbranch Walker. His body, his belongings… and his power. A level 30 Warlock-Sorcerer.
For now, I’ll keep a low profile.
I hope I can find you first.
Entry Ended.
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I wandered through the bustling fish market, scanning the stalls for any good deals. The salty scent of the sea mixed with the aroma of fresh fish and sizzling street food. Vendors called out their wares, their voices overlapping in a chaotic symphony of trade. Then, a loud commotion ahead disrupted the usual hum of the marketplace.
Curious, I pushed through the colorful stalls, weaving past shoppers until I reached a large gathering. Three distinct groups stood in tense opposition, but the most conspicuous were the city guards. They did nothing to calm the situation—if anything, they seemed eager for a fight.
As I stepped closer, the source of the conflict became clear. A standoff between what appeared to be traveling nobles and a member of the Romioe family was escalating. Both sides shouted at each other, their voices rising with growing hostility.
“I told you, I don’t understand you! But if you don’t move now, I will have you forcibly removed!” The Romioe leader’s face flushed red as he barked his demand.
“Useless peasant! The Atsh do not take orders from those who do not speak the Holy Tongue!” a tall, hooked-nose man spat back in Tai’albi.
My linguist skill triggered the moment I heard the foreign words, my mind racing to decipher their meaning. A smile tugged at my lips as I stepped forward, moving between the two groups. I took a slow breath and addressed the hooked-nose man’s party with a respectful bow.
“Good sirs, please forgive these lowly ones. They are still learning and do not yet know better.” As I spoke, I performed the customary gesture to show deference, drawing upon everything I knew about Tai’al customs.
A brief silence followed before the hooked-nose man, regaining his confidence, nodded. “It is fine, child, but the Atsh have seen negative spirits. They must be removed.”
Before he could continue, the red-faced Romioe leader cut in. “What is he saying?”
I turned to him with a placating smile. “He says that the Atsh have seen evil spirits and wish to cleanse them—”
“But why couldn’t they just say it in Vaelithian?” the Romioe man snapped, jabbing a finger at the Atsh delegation.
I barely suppressed a wince. "Because, due to their religion, they must only speak in Tai’albi well following an Atsh." Even as I simplified the explanation, I could see the understanding slipping from his expression. He must not be a high-ranking member of the Romioe family.
“Well, I don’t care what this Atstsh says! I want them gone, and if they don’t leave, I’ll have them removed.” His voice rose again, laced with growing irritation, and he sneered as a bit of spit flew in my direction.
I stared at him, momentarily stunned by his lack of tact. Turning back to the Atsh group, I saw the hooked-nose man’s anger simmering beneath his composed exterior. The Romioe man had no idea they understood him perfectly. I sighed, preparing to diffuse the situation.
Before I could speak, another figure approached, clad in a more refined version of the Romioe leader’s attire. The city guards immediately straightened up, their posture shifting from idle spectators to disciplined sentinels.
“What is going on here?” His voice carried authority, and the market seemed to hush in response.
The red-faced man paled almost instantly, his previous bravado evaporating. “Sir Matthew, I—I’m handling it. Nothing for you to worry about.”
But he stopped speaking and turned to the hooked-nose man. “I hope His Holiness' duty hasn’t been interrupted?” He spoke in fluent Tai’albi, and I heard the quiet jingle of coins exchanging hands.
I sighed. ‘I have been in this world for a year now, and playing translator is one of the only ways I’ve been able to make money.’ As I turned to leave, a man accompanying Sir Matthew quickly approached me.
“Here.” He pressed a few silver coins into my hand before returning to his master.
As I walked away, Sir Matthew’s voice rang out, berating the red-faced man. Slipping the three silver pieces into my bag of carrying, I made my way toward Old Barry Stall.
‘Not bad.’ Normally, I could make a gold coin, but in recent months, the Romioe family had been establishing themselves in the market, and most of them could speak both the traders' speech and Tai’albi. It had been putting me out of a job.
“Like it was much of one anyway,” I muttered as my stomach growled with hunger.
I lean against a wall and close my eyes as I relive the moment I came here.
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1 Year Ago
I was walking home from university, chatting with friends about Depths and Dangers. We were deep in discussion, planning what to do with the Lich’s hoard, when suddenly, a sharp static noise and a ripping sound filled the air.
I blinked, and in an instant, I was no longer where I had been. Instead, I stood in an unfamiliar street, bathed in midday sunlight. I raised a hand to shield my eyes as I took in my surroundings—an alleyway cluttered with far too much trash, nestled between two unfamiliar buildings.
“What the fuck...?” I muttered. Looking down, I realized I wasn’t wearing my usual clothes. Instead, I was dressed in a dark, tailored jacket adorned with intricate embroidery of dragons and stars—clearly of high quality. Underneath, a light-blue tunic with matching embroidery peeked out, and I wore well-fitted dark blue pants with black shoes to complete the ensemble.
A sudden wave of dizziness hit me, and I braced myself against the nearby wall. That’s when I felt the unfamiliar weight of a satchel slung over my shoulder. Hesitantly, I looked down at it, a sinking feeling settling in my stomach. Dread clawed at my mind as I recognized what it was.
“That’s a bag of holding,” I whispered.
Present Day
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"Focus, Gine. You still need to get food."
As I walked toward Old Barry’s stall, I spotted his ever-carefree smile, a pipe lazily hanging from his lips, smoke curling into the air as he kept a half-hearted watch over his catch.
"Ahh, look who’s come crawling back. Silver well dried up already?" He smirked, tilting his straw hat back as he regarded me with amusement.
"If I had a choice, I wouldn’t be here, Barry." I wasn’t exactly eager to buy from him, but my options were limited.
"Well, if you don’t want to be here, I could just not sell to you," he mused.
"You’re too greedy for that," I shot back, eyeing the fish for anything remotely fresh—not an easy task. Barry never sold his best fish at the market.
"True, very true," he admitted with a chuckle. "But I don’t think you’ve ever said a single nice thing to me. Maybe I’ll make an exception just for you." His smirk widened, daring me.
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I met his gaze without flinching. "I wouldn’t compliment you even if you didn’t constantly try to screw me over. Your fish are barely edible."
He let out a bark of laughter, completely unfazed. "Well, if you want something better, stop feeding the rats." His words dripped with mockery, but I forced down the surge of irritation rising in my chest.
Ignoring him, I picked out five of the largest and freshest fish he had.
"Two silver and three copper," he said, holding out his hand.
I narrowed my eyes. "That should only be one silver and nine copper."
"It normally is," Barry conceded, grin widening. "But you picked my best fish. And for such a loyal customer, I only want to offer you the right price." His voice oozed that slick, practiced charm only a salesman could master.
"Fine," I muttered, slapping the money into his palm before turning on my heel and walking away.
He wasn’t wrong—I had picked the best ones. But I knew the truth. Barry would have raised the price on me either way.
With the fish in hand, I made my way home. I didn’t dare put them in my bag—using a magic item so carelessly would be far too suspicious. Instead, I muttered a quiet cast Prestidigitation under my breath, a simple cantrip that wouldn’t trigger any of the city’s magic alarms. Still, just to be safe, I picked up my pace.
Leaving the fish market behind, I entered one of Iron-Port’s main residential districts. The streets were just as lively—children ran around, likely avoiding their chores, while people of all ages bustled past, going about their daily lives. I even spotted a few dwarves trudging along on their way to the merchant quarter.
I paused in front of a spacious home, large enough to house a full family.
"Still for sale, huh?" I muttered, eyeing the faded sign before turning away.
As I moved deeper into the city, the atmosphere shifted. The buildings became more worn-down, some barely standing, others housing businesses that no one wanted to live next to. The further I walked, the more the city’s wealth—or lack thereof—became apparent.
Turning down a narrow alley, I stepped into a small clearing where a rundown building stood. It wasn’t much—certainly not big—but it was home.
Outside, two kids swung sticks at each other in a mock swordfight. The moment they saw movement, they froze, eyes wide. Then, recognizing me, they dropped their "weapons" and sprinted over.
"Mr. Walker! Mr. Walker! Did you bring food?!" The taller of the two, Jaces, grinned up at me, his gap-toothed smile bright despite the grime on his face.
I couldn’t help but smile back. "Yes, Jaces, I did."
Before I could say more, the other boy cut in.
"Mr. Gine, Aayar broke my sword again!" Clive, shorter than Jaces and with dark brown hair, pouted as he held up the broken stick.
I sighed. "I’ll see if I can fix it, Clive, but stop annoying her. You know how this always ends."
At least he had the decency to look embarrassed, glancing away under my gaze.
"Now go get the others. This is Old Barry’s fish, and I want it cooked and eaten fast."
The boys didn’t need to be told twice. They bolted off, their sticks forgotten, eager to spread the news.
As I stepped inside, the dimly lit room greeted me with its familiar warmth. A single ladder led to the upper floor, and though the building’s exterior was worn-down, the interior was a stark contrast. Even in the low light, everything was unnaturally clean—no dust, no musty scent, just smooth, well-maintained stone.
The long wooden table dominated the space, surrounded by fourteen mismatched chairs, each in surprisingly good condition. The only other notable feature was a cooking stove with a pot resting on top.
Three kids were inside—one seated at the table, engrossed in a book, while the other two stood by the stove. The moment I entered, Alex and Sofie turned toward me.
“Mr. Walker, what did you get this time?” Alex, the younger of the two, asked eagerly, his bright eyes fixed on the bundle in my hands.
“Fish, Alex. And… sorry, Sofie, it’s from Old Barry.”
Her face darkened for a brief moment, but she quickly masked her frustration before Alex could notice.
“It’s fine, Mr. Walker,” she said with a small sigh. “Better than nothing. Come on, Alex, let’s cook this before everyone shows up.”
“Let’s!” He practically bounced back to the stove, excitement bubbling over. He did love cooking.
I pulled out a chair and sat next to Aayar, the oldest of the kids. She was absorbed in a book, its worn cover displaying the title Call Forth the Great and Small Spirits.
“Enjoying your reading?” I asked, glancing at her.
She turned to me, her emerald eyes almost glowing in the dim light. “Yes, it’s a good read. And… thank you for letting me borrow it.”
She hesitated, looking uncharacteristically unsure, before adding in a quieter voice, “I lost my temper with Clive again…”
She turned away slightly, letting a few strands of crimson hair escape from beneath her flat cap. She always kept her hair hidden, preferring the practicality of boy’s clothing over anything else.
I sighed. “I understand, Aayar. Really, I do. And I won’t tell you to stop defending yourself—but remember, we’re not allowed to use magic. If you trigger the wards…” I pulled off my glasses and rubbed the bridge of my nose. “Where’s the sword now?”
“Here.” She placed the broken wooden sword on the table. “I know, but I only used a cantrip. You said the wards don’t detect them.”
I examined the break—a clean snap at the hilt, the kind that required some force. “I’m less concerned about the wards and more about someone seeing you.” I aligned the pieces and cast Mend, watching as the wood seamlessly fused back together.
“No one saw,” she insisted, gripping her book a little tighter. “I swear.”
She hesitated for a moment, then abruptly changed the subject. “Are you going to the library again today?”
I noticed the shift but decided to let it slide.
“Yes. I think an opportunity might present itself today.”
Aayar let out a small huff, tucking her stray hair back beneath her hat. “You say that every time you go there. And you go there a lot.”
I let out a light laugh as more of the kids poured into the house. First came Clive, followed closely by Jaces. Then, in order, Mira, Tobin, Nia, Rex, Elise, Garret, and last but not least, Lina.
As each took their seats, the room filled with a familiar warmth—the hum of conversation growing louder with every new arrival. The air grew rich with the smell of fish soup, making stomachs rumble in anticipation. With a flick of my hand, I cast Dazzling Lights, sending four glowing orbs to each corner of the room. Their soft golden light pushed back the dimness, illuminating the space where sunlight barely filtered through the boarded windows.
“Mr. Walker, will you teach us magic?” little Nia piped up, her wide eyes filled with curiosity.
Before I could answer, Clive jumped in with all the bravado of a self-declared hero. “Mr. Walker will teach us! And when he does, I’ll become a Mage Knight, and we’ll all live in luxury!” He puffed out his chest, as if he could already see himself in shining armor.
Aayar let out a snort. “You? A Mage Knight? You need discipline and brains, and you don’t have either.”
Clive’s face immediately turned red. “I have brains! And I have discipline! Right, Mr. Walker?”
“I want to be a healer when I learn magic!” Garret shouted from across the table.
“And I want to be a cook!” Alex beamed as he and Sofie passed out bowls of steaming fish soup with slices of yesterday’s bread.
As I took a spoonful of the soup, I fought the familiar grimace that threatened to creep onto my face. Even after a year, I still hadn’t fully adjusted to the taste of the food here. But I had a solution. Under my breath, I cast Prestidigitation, subtly altering the flavor just enough to make it palatable.
I never told Alex that I wasn’t a fan of his cooking—it would break his heart. But I had a feeling Aayar had noticed. She was a bit too sharp sometimes, though at least she hadn’t said anything.
As the meal wound down, I finished eating and headed upstairs to change. Pulling clothes from my bag, I switched out of my commoner’s outfit, replacing it with attire of far better quality—a look that spoke of money I didn’t truly have.
By the time I returned, some of the kids had already headed back outside, while the others were finishing up the cleaning. Before I could leave, Aayar approached me, her expression serious.
“Mr. Walker, we’re running low on money.” There was a slight crease in her brow, worry flickering beneath her usual confidence. “Do you really need to keep going to the library?”
I smiled and knelt slightly to meet her eyes. “I know it seems like a waste with how little we have, but trust me—if things go well today, that won’t be a problem anymore.”
She took a slow breath and exhaled. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
Aayar studied me for a moment before giving a slight nod and turning toward the ladder, heading upstairs.
I wasn’t just giving her false hope—I had a good reason to believe today would be different. A week ago, I had used the Eye of Oun, it casts weaker divination spell that grants only vague sensations instead of clear visions. And when I cast it, I had felt a strong sense of opportunity waiting for me at the library.
That was enough for me to take the risk.
With that in mind, I activated my Mask of Faces, subtly shifting my outfit to something more ordinary. There was no need to draw attention until I reached the better parts of the city.