Waking up is a lot harder than it should be.

You hear sounds, but for some reason, you can't figure out how to open your eyes. Your System eyes are working fine, but your head is thrumming too loudly for you to read any of the text that's crowding in on you.

Instead, all you want is a look at the real world to reassure yourself that you're not back in the other place. But no matter how you strain, your vision remains entirely black. The only reassuring thing is that you can feel fabric under your fingers. Ergo, you have fingers. Ergo, you are not dead.

You hear a door open, and a male voice says, "Malia, you better leave him be. It will take a while for him to come to."

"Leave him be?" a female voice shoots back, her words as hostile as if she's dipped them in hatred. "I'm not letting this degenerate out of my sight, Pa. There's no way I'm letting him get away."

The man speaks gently. "You need to rest, Malia. If you fall asleep because you're exhausted, how are you going to deal with him when he does wake up?"

"Ha!" she exclaims gleefully. "When he wakes up, his head will be pounding so loudly he won't know what hit him!"

"You," you croak out. The voices fall silent. If you'd been thinking, at all, you would have realized you should probably just have kept your mouth shut. Instead, you force out, "Hit me." For a moment, you lose yourself and your train of thought and try again to blink your eyes open. You think the black just turned a slightly lighter shade, but that's only in your head. Oh, that was it. She hit you on your head. But you can't remember what you've already said, and you think you already said that last part, and--a moment later you've drifted back off into unconsciousness.

***

The next time you wake, you have recovered the high-level ability [Open eyes]. You blink, and the blackness recedes. It takes you a good, long while of unfocused looking to figure out what you're looking at, and it's not terribly exciting when you do. It's a ceiling. A ceiling made up of roughly hewn wood planks laid over some crooked beams. After a few more moments, you manage to turn your head slightly and see a--window? It's a gap in the beams that seem to constitute the wall, a narrow opening with a store propped open by a stick, allowing a little daylight to penetrate the twilight of the hut.

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You turn your head the other direction, ever so slowly, weary that the pounding in your head could explode at the slightest provocation. On your other side is more bare and barren room. The cot you're lying on seems to be the only luxury present, if you can call it that; the rest of the furnishings are made up of a pile of straw in one corner and a three-legged stool next to your cot. On that stool sits a women--Malia, you surmise--with her head resting on, well, you.

Probably, you should protest. After all, she hit you. And also, she hates you, if her earlier words are any indication. But your head still hurts and your vision is only kind of working and anyway, sudden movements and loud noises are known to worsen headaches, right? So instead, you lie still and study her.

Her features look peaceful in sleep. She has dull brown hair, tied into a messy bun, with almost more strands falling loose than staying put. Her face is narrow with full lips and bushy eyebrows. There is a slight bump in her otherwise straight nose, and her face is smeared with dirt. Her hands are even worse, stained brown and with black gunk under her nails.

Had you really thought her pretty before? Up close, she just looks dirty and unkempt.

Nevertheless, she's human. And she's the first human you've encountered since--since--

Since you died. And since the void almost sucked out your mind. And since entering this world. And since you've had this System in your head.

It's okay. It's a lot. So it's understandable that you reach out a hand and touch her face. Well, not to her, but that's just because she doesn't have all the data.

Her eyes fly open and she jumps up, startling you and making you hit the back of your head against the wooden wall behind you. Pain explodes and you groan.

"You!" she shouts, the peaceful expression on her face replaced by one of livid fury. "Thief! Bandit! Scoundrel! Rogue!"

With your head still pounding, you're having a hard time reading the text the freshly popped-up blue box presents to you.

[Congratulations!]

[You have been given a name.

Name: Thiefbandit Scoundrelrogue]

Again, you groan.