As I approached the town gates, the faint sound of clashing metal caught my attention. Off to the side, in an open field just outside the walls, a group of people moved with swift, deliberate motions. Their weapons gleamed in the sunlight, and their stances were sharp, focused.

"Knights?" I murmured, narrowing my eyes. No, they seemed younger than knights—probably trainees.

My curiosity grew as I watched them. Their fluid movements, the rhythm of their strikes—it was mesmerizing. For a moment, my mind wandered. This world has magic, right? If magic existed, did that mean adventurers did too? The thought of grand quests and thrilling battles sent a spark of excitement through me. It felt like the kind of childhood dream I'd clung to once.

But reality came crashing down, as it always did. I wasn’t some destined hero. I couldn’t even use magic, let alone fight. Besides, I wasn’t here for adventure. My priorities were simple: find work, make money, and support the orphanage and my sister.

Even so, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the scene. Two trainees were locked in a duel, their wooden swords clashing in fierce, rhythmic blows. Each strike sent vibrations through the air, drawing me in.

My breathing grew heavier, and my heart raced in my chest. What was this? Excitement? Anticipation? I couldn’t tell. The more I watched, the stronger the feeling became. It wasn’t fear—it was something raw and exhilarating, like a fire kindling in my veins.

I shook my head, trying to snap myself out of it. This wasn’t the time to get distracted. But as I turned to leave, I nearly ran into someone.

Standing before me was a man who could’ve been mistaken for a character from a legend. Towering and broad-shouldered, he looked like a force of nature. His long brown hair was tied into a ponytail, and his rugged features gave him the aura of a warrior—perhaps even a viking. His presence was overwhelming, almost suffocating, as if the air grew heavier around him.

“You want to join, kid?” His voice was deep and gravelly, the kind that demanded attention.

I froze, words escaping me. Join? The thought thrilled and terrified me in equal measure. I could feel his piercing gaze, waiting for a response.

But instead of answering, my legs moved on their own. I turned and ran, bolting toward the town gates as fast as I could. My heart pounded for an entirely different reason now, my embarrassment chasing me like a shadow.

Behind me, I thought I heard the man chuckle, but I didn’t dare look back.

----------------------------------------

I ducked into a quiet alley, leaning against a wall as I tried to catch my breath. The cobblestone streets of the bustling town stretched before me, but my mind was still trapped in that moment.

Running away like that… it was humiliating. He hadn’t even done anything threatening. Why did I react like that? And that strange feeling earlier, watching the duel—what was that?

I shook my head, trying to push the thoughts away. No use dwelling on it. I’m here for a reason—to find a job and make money.

With that, I stepped back onto the main street. The town was alive with activity. Merchants lined the roads, their voices rising above the din as they called out to potential customers. Children darted through the crowd, laughing and playing, while townsfolk chatted and bartered.

Despite the lively atmosphere, frustration was beginning to gnaw at me. Every shopkeeper I approached turned me down. A smith gave me a skeptical glance before shaking his head. A baker laughed awkwardly and waved me off.

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“Shouldn’t you be home with your family, boy?” one merchant asked, his tone dismissive.

Rejection after rejection. It wasn’t surprising, but it stung all the same. I knew finding a job in this medieval world would be tough, but I hadn’t expected it to be this hard.

As I wandered aimlessly, a soft, hiccuping sob broke through the noise. Turning toward the sound, I saw a little girl sitting on the ground, her small frame trembling as she cried. She couldn’t have been older than four, with black hair framing her tear-streaked face.

At her feet lay a basket, its contents spilled across the cobblestones. Sandwiches—or what was left of them—were crushed and covered in dirt.

I knelt down beside her. “Hey, are you okay?”

She looked up at me, sniffling. “I-I spilled everything,” she sobbed. “I was supposed to bring this food to my daddy, but someone bumped into me, and now it’s ruined! Waaaah!”

Her crying was loud and heart-wrenching. I couldn’t just leave her like this.

“Don’t cry,” I said gently. “Maybe we can fix it.”

Her sobs quieted slightly as she looked at me with hopeful eyes. “Really?”

I glanced at the sandwiches. They were beyond saving, dirt and grime clinging to every piece. I sighed. “Uh… maybe not.”

Her face crumpled again, and she began to wail even louder.

“Wait, wait! Don’t cry!” I panicked, searching for a solution. “What if we go back to your place and make more sandwiches? We can bring them to your dad together.”

“But… but Mommy will get mad,” she whimpered.

“Your mom won’t be mad if you tell her the truth,” I assured her. “I promise. And you won’t have to face her alone—I’ll come with you.”

She sniffled, wiping her face with her sleeve. “Okay,” she said softly, standing up and gathering her basket. Then, to my surprise, she reached out and grabbed my hand.

Her tiny fingers curled around mine, and my heart melted. She’s so much like Saya when she was this age…

“What’s your name?” I asked as we began walking.

“Tina,” she said, giving me a shy smile.

“Well, Tina, you can call me Brother Gain,” I said, grinning.

“Okay, Brother Gain!” she chirped, her earlier sadness fading.

Her small hand gripped mine tightly as she led me through the busy streets.

As Tina and I walked hand in hand, she pointed toward a small building with a wooden sign hanging above the door. The sign had a carving of a steaming bowl and a loaf of bread. It looked cozy, though a little weathered, and I guessed it was a diner.

“So, your family owns a diner?” I asked, glancing down at her.

Tina nodded enthusiastically. “That’s right! Mommy cooks a lot because Daddy eats a lot!”

I couldn’t help but chuckle at her innocent honesty. That’s adorable… if not a little strange.

Just as we approached the door, a sudden scream erupted from inside, followed by a loud crash. Before we could react, the door swung open, and a young man bolted out, nearly running into us. He stumbled and fell face-first onto the ground with a groan.

Startled, I looked down at him. He was blond, probably around seventeen, and dressed in a stained apron. As he tried to collect himself, we both peered into the open doorway, and chaos greeted us.

Inside, the diner was in an uproar. Customers were shouting from every corner.

“Where’s our food!?” a burly man at a table bellowed.

“That’s right! We’re starving here!” a woman chimed in, slamming her hand on the counter.

The young man on the ground scrambled to his feet, brushing off his apron before noticing Tina. Relief washed over his face as he pointed at her.

“You’re finally back! Wait… where are the others!?” he demanded, looking around as if expecting someone else to appear.

“Phil! What’s going on?” Tina asked, her voice tinged with concern.

So, this guy’s name was Phil. He ruffled his blond hair in frustration and let out a dramatic groan.

“What’s going on? WHAT’S GOING ON?!” he snapped, clearly at the end of his rope. “I’ve been left here alone to handle this disaster! The customers are losing it! It’s way too much for me to handle by myself!”

“Really?” Tina asked, tilting her head innocently.

“Yes, really! Where is everyone else?!” Phil shot back, his sarcasm barely hidden.

Before I could stop myself, I stepped forward. “What if I help you cook?”

Phil blinked at me, clearly noticing me for the first time. His expression twisted into suspicion. “Who the hell are you?”

Tina quickly interjected, tugging on his sleeve. “Phil, this is Brother Gain. He helped me when I dropped the sandwiches!”

Phil crossed his arms, still unconvinced. “I see. But even if you help, what good is it? We’ve got way too many customers, and I doubt you even know your way around a kitchen. You don’t exactly look like someone who’s held a pan in his life.”

“Better to try than let the customers leave angry,” I replied, crossing my arms to mirror his stance. “Unless you’re okay with your paycheck taking a hit?”

Phil scowled but seemed to consider my words. “Tsk. Fine! But don’t expect me to pick up after your mistakes. You sure you even know how to cook?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t,” I said confidently, stepping inside.