I take a deep breath, deciding it’s time to be completely honest with Narkul. He’s perceptive, sharp, and clearly not someone we can afford to deceive for long. “Look, Narkul,” I begin, my voice steady. “We’re not from here.”

Narkul’s eyes sharpen even more, but he doesn’t interrupt. He just waits, clearly intrigued by what I’m about to say.

“We’re... from another place,” I continue, glancing at my brothers, who give subtle nods of encouragement. “We don’t know anything about this city, this world, or how things work here. The truth is, we got here by accident—through a multiverse traveller, a guy named Akari.”

Jiho takes over, his voice soft but firm. “Akari brought us here. He gave us some treasure and told us we’d figure things out, but we’ve been winging it ever since. We’re completely lost.”

Isak chimes in, adding, “We don’t even know the currency, the laws, nothing. We’re basically just trying to survive without making huge mistakes.”

Abel, ever the quiet observer, simply nods. “We didn’t mean to deceive you. We’re just... trying to stay afloat.”

For a moment, Narkul is silent, his sharp gaze assessing us as we lay everything on the table. Finally, he leans back in his chair, tapping his claws together, the tension in the room thick. But then, to our surprise, he simply nods, a slight smirk on his beak.

“I understand,” he says, his voice smoother now, almost reassuring. “You’re not the first to find yourselves lost in this city. And you won’t be the last. You are unique as otherworlders but I must say, you’ve managed quite well for being complete strangers to this world.”

A wave of relief washes over me. The others seem to feel it too, as the weight of our secret is lifted. Narkul stands and paces behind his desk, his vulture-like form casting long shadows on the wall.

“To avoid embarrassing my new recruits,” he says, almost thoughtfully, “we’ll handle this discreetly. Each day, you’ll come here. I will teach you the basics—about the city, the world, the people, the systems, everything you’ll need to know. Consider it… training.”

Narkul pauses, then adds, “I will have my most trustworthy employee collect you, wherever you are, and bring you here in the evenings. The rest of the city will be none the wiser.”

A collective sigh of relief escapes all of us. The idea of being trained by someone like Narkul gives me some peace of mind. It feels like we finally have some direction.

Narkul reaches into his desk and pulls out a small black card, handing it to me. “This,” he says, “is for managing your finances. Who’s the oldest?”

“That’s me,” I say, raising my hand slightly.

He places the card in my hand, his beady eyes locking onto mine. “You’ll manage it for your brothers. Don’t worry,” he adds with a faint smile, “the others will get their own cards soon enough. But for now, you hold the responsibility.”

I nod, slipping the card into my pocket, feeling the weight of that responsibility settle on my shoulders.

Narkul then hands us a slip of paper, his expression serious. “This is my private number. It’s for emergencies only. You cannot share this with anyone.”

Jiho takes the paper, reads it for a few seconds, and then casually hands it back to Narkul. The vulture-man’s eyes widen in shock, clearly not expecting that.

“I’ve got it memorized,” Jiho says with a small smile. “I’ve always had a really good memory for details.”

Narkul raises an eyebrow, impressed. “Remarkable.”

But before we can leave, Abel clears his throat, looking as serious as ever. “We’re not done here yet.”

Narkul pauses, his sharp gaze flicking back to us, clearly intrigued. He leans back in his chair, a gleam of interest in his eyes. “Oh? You still have more questions?”

Abel nods, his tone firm. “We do. We need to understand a lot more about this city, and we have some things that need answers before we can agree fully.”

Narkul reclines in his chair, tapping his claws on the desk, a small smile creeping across his face. “Very well. Ask away.”

Abel leans forward, his tone calm but direct, as he asks Narkul, "Can we start with some basics? Like, what’s the date?"

Narkul tilts his head, thinking it’s an odd question but answers smoothly, “It’s the 13th of September, 2024. A Friday.”

Haru and I exchange quick glances, a spark of recognition in both our eyes. That’s the same date as when we left home. The realization hits me hard, like a jolt of electricity. Nothing has changed, at least in terms of time.

Abel, ever composed, nods. “Alright, good to know.” He pauses for a beat before asking the next question. “What’s the currency here? We’ll need to know how to get by.”

Narkul doesn’t miss a beat. “The currency is UW—United World. It’s used everywhere, across all regions and realms. You won’t need to worry about exchanging money; it works universally.”

I notice Jiho raise an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. Isak, on the other hand, looks like he’s still wrapping his head around how all of this works. I can’t blame him. We’re from a world where countries have their own currencies, and now we’re in some unified system where one currency works everywhere.

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Abel, sensing there’s more to unpack, follows up. “And what country are we in right now? It seems... Japanese, based on the architecture.”

Narkul tilts his head again, this time looking genuinely confused. “Japanese? I don’t know what that is. This region, as you say, is part of the human territories. It’s designed to feel familiar to humans, drawing on ancient influences from many realms. But Japan? No, I’ve never heard of it.”

Now it’s my turn to feel a little uneasy. We’re definitely not in our world, not even close. The fact that Narkul doesn’t know about something as basic as Japan, one of the most culturally significant places on Earth, only drives that point home.

Sensing our confusion, Narkul leans forward, his sharp eyes focused on us. “What was your world like?”

I glance at my brothers. There’s a brief silence as we all gather our thoughts, but I’m the first to speak. “Our world... it’s just humans. No elves, dwarves, or demi-humans. No magic. Just humans, living in different countries, with different cultures.”

Narkul's brow furrows, his talons tapping lightly on the desk. He seems deep in thought, as if trying to comprehend what we’re saying.

"Only humans?" he asks, his voice quiet, almost to himself. "A world without other mankind..."

The room falls silent as he leans back in his chair, his eyes distant, clearly processing this new information.

Narkul leans back in his chair, his sharp talons tapping rhythmically on the desk as he studies us for a moment. His beady eyes gleam with a mix of curiosity and calculation. Then, with a low, almost amused chuckle, he begins, “Let me explain something about this world. You see, we are all part of what you might call ‘mankind.’ Yes, that includes the humans you’re familiar with, but it also encompasses beings you’ve probably only read about in your world's fiction—dwarves, vampires, elves, and many others.”

He pauses for a moment, gauging our reactions. When we don’t interrupt, he leans in slightly, his voice lowering as though he’s about to share a secret. “But what really binds us together are the fundamentals—sex, meaning male and female, reproduction, mana control, intelligence, and all the five senses. These are the things that separate us from the common beasts.”

Narkul’s beak curls into a slight smirk. “However, in this world, mana—the energy that flows through all living things—creates more... variety. You might be thinking it’s strange to see humans and demi-humans walking side by side, but that’s simply because of how mana interacts with us. It allows for these differences—vampires, elves, dwarves, humans... all part of the same mankind, but with very different attributes.”

Isak’s eyes widen, and Jiho shifts uncomfortably in his seat, clearly still trying to process the idea of magic and mana influencing entire species.

Narkul doesn’t miss a beat. His tone takes on a more serious edge. “Of course, these differences didn’t come without conflict. For thousands of years, mankind was at war—groups fighting over these variations. If you were a vampire, for instance, you were seen by some as the devil’s child. And that… well, that led to quite a bit of bloodshed.”

He leans back again, letting his words sink in before continuing. “Kingdoms and factions were formed based on these physical differences. Dwarves built strongholds in the mountains, elves ruled the forests, and humans... well, you see them here, adapting to whatever environment suited them best. What you see as ‘Japanese architecture’—to us, that’s just another human cultural influence, not a national identity. It’s a style, not a country.”

Jiho nods slowly, clearly trying to wrap his head around this alternate reality. Meanwhile, Abel listens intently, his brow furrowed in concentration. I can feel my own head spinning a little, trying to reconcile the world we left behind with the one we’ve just walked into.

Narkul then takes a deep breath and shifts the conversation. His tone softens, becoming almost reflective. “But by the time the 1970s rolled around, the wars slowed. Peace began to take root, though tensions never fully disappeared. The world had calmed, kingdoms had merged, and for a while, it seemed like the fighting would stop.”

He pauses dramatically, leaning in again, his voice dropping into a near whisper, as if he’s delivering the punchline to a long, tragic joke. “And then... the aliens came.”

Isak, ever the nervous joker, lets out a nervous laugh, but quickly shuts up when he sees how serious Narkul’s expression is.

“Oh yes,” Narkul continues, nodding sagely, “aliens. In the 1980s, they arrived. Uninvited and unwelcome. Their technology was beyond anything we had seen. Their presence? Dangerous. It brought fear, uncertainty... and war.”

He lets that word hang in the air for a moment before continuing. “But this time, the wars weren’t fought amongst ourselves. No, no. For the first time, mankind—every species, every kingdom, every region—united against a common threat. It didn’t matter if you were human, dwarf, or elf. We had to stand together or fall apart.”

I swallow hard, the weight of his words hitting me like a brick. Narkul’s intense gaze doesn’t waver, but then he notices something—our unease. Maybe it’s the way Abel clenches his fists or how Jiho’s foot is tapping rapidly against the floor. Whatever it is, Narkul sees it, and for the first time, his tone softens, almost reassuring.

“Ah, I see you’re nervous,” he says, waving a clawed hand dismissively. “Let me ease your minds—the aliens have all but ceased contact with us. They’re no longer a threat, at least not in the way they were. Their presence here has largely vanished. I wouldn’t expect to run into one anytime soon.”

There’s a collective exhale of relief from all of us. Even Isak, who usually keeps things light, looks visibly relaxed now.

“Good,” Abel mutters, “that’s one less thing to worry about.”

Narkul chuckles softly, seemingly amused by our reactions. “Indeed. Though there are still those who remember those days of conflict and resist the idea of a unified world. Not everyone agrees with what you might call...”

At this, Haru raises an eyebrow, leaning forward. “Globalism?”

Narkul nods slowly. “Precisely. The world came together—forgetting their differences, their old wars, their regional conflicts—and formed a unified society. It’s how we maintain order now. It’s how this world functions.”

The room falls into a thoughtful silence as we absorb everything Narkul’s told us. But then Abel, ever practical, speaks up one last time. “There’s just one thing I still don’t get. Why does everyone here speak English?”

Narkul smiles, as if the question brings him a little amusement. “Ah, yes. The international language. English was adopted by the regions to maintain order, as it was the most widespread language. You’ll still hear others from time to time, but English is what unites communication between all regions.”

Finally, it seems like we have the answers we need. I feel a sense of calm wash over me as I exchange glances with my brothers. We’re starting to piece things together, starting to understand the world we’ve found ourselves in.

Narkul stands, his tall figure looming over us as he adjusts his monocle. “Very well,” he says. “I believe we’ve covered enough for now. Tomorrow, we will finalize things. You’ll sign the contract, and we’ll confirm everything.”

We thank him for his time, and as we stand to leave, there’s a sense of relief among us. We may still be in unfamiliar territory, but at least now, we have a guide—and a plan.