I blink rapidly, the world spinning. Someone’s pulling me up. Auw. My head throbs.

"Hey, kid, wake up!" A gruff voice rips through the fog in my mind.

I open my eyes, seeing a tall, rugged figure standing over me. His hands are gripping my shoulders, shaking me like I’m just another rag doll. I push myself up with a grunt, my body aching.

"What the hell?" I mutter, still dazed.

“You’ve been out cold for hours,” the man says, his tone flat. “Not sure if you’re playing dead or just weak.”

I scowl, forcing myself to stand, ignoring the dizziness.

“I’m fine,” I growl, brushing him off.

He chuckles darkly. “Yeah, sure you are. Whatever.” He steps back, his eyes scanning the area.

I glance around, realizing the world is buzzing around me. The city’s streets are packed, steam billowing from the engines of trains. I notice a group moving toward one of the massive, looming trains.

“That train’s about to leave. Get moving, unless you plan to stay here all day,” the man says before turning to leave.

I don’t waste time thinking. My feet are already in motion. The hunger gnaws at me, but this is more important. I need to move. I shove through the crowd, weaving between people, my gaze locked on the train.

It’s now or never.

I can already hear the conductor shouting, “ALL ABOARD!”

I push my way to the front, barely avoiding the guards who are ushering people onto the train. As I reach the edge of the platform, the train starts to hiss and rumble, its iron body ready to depart.

I step onto the nearest car and move fast, finding an empty seat in the corner, trying to avoid any attention.

The train lurches forward, and I lean back, finally letting out a sigh of relief. The wheels clank against the rails, and I can feel the engine’s power surging beneath me.

But just as I start to relax, I notice a familiar face at the back of the train. The same guy who paid for my chicken earlier, leaning casually against the doorframe.

“Of course,” I mutter under my breath.

"Hah, its you again are you stalking me?!"

The man’s eyes flicker to me, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He straightens, his hands folding casually behind his back.

“Stalking you?” he repeats, his tone amused. “I wouldn’t waste my time on someone like you.”

I bristle at the comment, but before I can snap back, he continues, his smirk widening.

“I’m just here for the ride,” he says nonchalantly. “Seems we have similar destinations, that’s all.”

I narrow my eyes. "You sure about that?"

He chuckles, glancing at the bustling train car. “Why so suspicious? Maybe we’re both headed somewhere dangerous. You seem like the type.”

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I grind my teeth, fighting the urge to retort. The train speeds up, rocking slightly as it picks up pace, and I can feel the tension hanging between us.

He steps closer, voice dropping to a low murmur. “You got a name, or are you just going to keep glaring at me like that?”

I hesitate, but there’s no point in hiding. I know I’ll probably run into him again.

“Kelvin,” I say, trying to keep my voice neutral. “And you are?”

The man eyes me for a long moment before finally answering, his smirk never fading.

“Izaak. Nice to meet you, Kelvin.”

I hold his gaze for a second, but something about him feels off—like there’s more to this encounter than just coincidence.

The train stops somewhere I don’t know. Well, I don’t know anything in this world, I guess that’s nothing new. It seems we’re in a different part of the kingdom.

I step out, and a sudden breeze makes me shiver.

I glance at a piece of glass and study myself. The same brown eyes and black hair, but my hair is almost reaching my chest now.

"I should get a haircut... or I could just cut my hair... ahhh."

The thought lingers, but the sound of footsteps approaching cuts it short. My hand instinctively reaches for my sword, the weight of it grounding me. I look around quickly—no one’s nearby, but something feels off.

I step away from the reflective glass, the wind tugging at my clothes.

I see a poster nearby:

"TAVERN: HELP WANTED"

"Hmm, that should help me earn some money," I mutter, my mind already racing with possibilities. I need a place to sleep, some food, and the chance to gather information. A tavern’s the perfect place for that.

I head toward the bustling area where the tavern is supposed to be. As I move through the crowd, the energy in the air thickens. The tension from earlier is still lingering, but the promise of work pulls me forward.

I turn a corner, and there it is. The tavern stands at the edge of a narrow street, a flickering lantern hanging above its entrance, casting an eerie glow. The sign swings gently in the breeze, "The Silver Mug" etched in faded gold letters.

I push open the door, the creak of the wood announcing my arrival. The smell of roasting meat and spilled ale hits me immediately. The tavern is packed with people, the noise deafening. At the counter, a burly man wipes down mugs, his eyes glancing over to me with a look that says he's seen it all.

I step up to the bar, my stomach growling again, louder this time.

"Looking for work?" the bartender asks, his voice deep and rough.

I nod, trying to look confident, despite my growing hunger. "Yeah. Anything available?"

He eyes me for a second before nodding toward the back. "Talk to Lila. She runs the kitchen. If you're good with your hands, she might have something for you."

I don't waste any time. Without another word, I head for the back, pushing through the swinging door.

I push through the swinging door and step into the main tavern area. The smell of ale, roasting meat, and a hint of wood smoke fills the air, a welcoming warmth after the chill outside. The dim lighting casts long shadows, and the low murmur of conversation hums in the background. It’s busy, but not overcrowded. The wooden tables are filled with rough-looking patrons enjoying their meals, and the bar is lined with empty mugs waiting to be filled.

Behind the counter stands a woman, tall and imposing. Her dark hair is tied back into a neat ponytail, and her posture is confident, as if she’s in charge of this whole place. She’s wearing a worn leather apron, the kind that speaks of years of handling both customers and tough situations. Her face is strong, with sharp features and dark eyes that have seen more than their fair share of trouble.

She looks me over as I approach the counter, her eyes scanning me quickly, lingering for a moment on my long hair before meeting my gaze.

"Your hair," she says, a raised eyebrow giving her a slightly amused look. "Planning to start a trend, or just too lazy for a haircut?"

I wince but try to play it cool. "It's been a while," I mumble, ruffling my hair nervously. "Guess I’ve been a little preoccupied."

She lets out a short laugh, shaking her head. "Well, if you’re sticking around here, you might want to get it trimmed. We don’t need any more people staring at you."

I grin sheepishly, not exactly planning on a haircut anytime soon. "Yeah, I’ll think about it."

She sizes me up for a moment longer, then gives me a once-over, like she’s evaluating whether I can handle whatever task she’s about to throw at me.

"I need help around here," she says finally, her voice more businesslike. "Chopping, cleaning, serving. That sort of thing. The pay’s small, but it'll keep you fed and out of trouble."

"Sounds good to me," I reply quickly, desperate to get any kind of work, even if it’s just a temporary solution.

She nods, a faint smile curling on her lips. "Alright then. Go grab a seat for now. I’ll need you on the floor in a few."

And just like that, I’ve got my first job in this strange kingdom. It’s not much, but it’s a start.