This time, no birdsong but pain.

A dull, throbbing pain at the back of my head. Amplified where the hard floor pressed against it.

If I had a choice, I would switch back to birdsong for my next awakening.

But for now, I kept silent and didn’t move.

The underground wasn’t the field or some dirt path in the forest, but the regular hardness of a man-made floor. Which meant my pain was also man-made. The cabbage’s owner? Or someone else? Didn’t really matter though. Their attitude mattered.

Hence I stayed still and listened.

Hectic steps echoed from far away. Children’s laughter interrupted a man’s rant. Rhythmic thuds followed an upbeat song. Old women’s babble, some confused cow’s moo, water splashing, and a cacophony of incomprehensible racket. The longer I observed, the more details became clear.

First and foremost, I understood a few of the louder voices and recognized their words. So communication shouldn’t be a problem. Given that this was just a dream, I expected as much, but the confirmation still took weight off my chest.

Secondly, I heard a lot of voices. Just the clearer ones made for over a dozen people. Which meant this wasn’t only the cabbages’ owner’s lonely hut but at least a tiny village. While this complicated a potential escape, it still meant more prospects for negotiation.

Lastly, the villagers seemed to follow their normal routine. Lively voices and songs displayed their carefreeness. So they shouldn’t perceive me as a threat, maybe they would even let their guard down.

Therefore I should be safe, at least for the moment. I didn’t know how the village dealt with thieves, but I hoped that my overall pitiful appearance would ease their ire.

I moved my arms and legs, but couldn’t find any restrictions. No shackle, no chain.

“So you are awake?”

I jerked.

A quiet voice came from behind me, only a few feet away.

It was a girl’s voice with no hostility. One might even call the warmth friendly.

But I had heard no noise behind me.

So this friendly sounding girl sat there for at least half an hour, with no movement, and only watched me. Good god. Somehow this was worse than a buffed man screaming at me.

Worst of all, she took my only chance to utter >I don’t remember this ceiling< from me. The only enjoyable thing out of unconsciousness and it’s gone like that. How would I spend this dream as a hero, if I couldn’t even act cool?

“Do you understand me?”

Okay, that’s enough escapism.

I forced my eyes open and examined the wooden roof above me. Unknown. No surprise here. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it looked robust, built to weather countless winters. In fact, the entire room gave off this feeling of expert plainness. As if in stark contrast, dried flowers and colorful fabrics crowded all the walls. A home atmosphere, oh so different to my hospice room’s bleakness.

Should I say >as expected of a girl’s room

Speaking of the girl, she rested on a sitting stone and examined me with curious eyes. And I, in turn, examined her.

She was… sturdy. Neither really fat nor ugly, but also nowhere near all those beautiful heroine characters the game offered. A far cry from the game’s sword maiden.

Wide hips, a well-endowed chest, and a bit of a belly. >Suited for a farmer’s life< would be a nice description, >a lot of flesh< the less flattering one. But overall she was just a normal girl.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

She wore baggy clothes, long trousers and an overcoat, made of rough brown and green linen. Everything patched up and frayed, even the simple leather boots. Her light brown hair short, one side longer than the other, with all kinds of unwanted steps and edges. Self-cut. The few patches of visible skin were tanned, her hands full of calluses.

In short, she looked like your typical plain NPC peasant. Created in bulk during one rainy afternoon, with no care put into it. With no quest to her name players would just ignore her or use the fast-travel function to skip this village altogether. Some generic peasant girl was more than enough.

Though there were two details that disturbed this image and caught my eyes.

She used a beautiful ribbon with flower patterns as a belt.

And her eyes fascinated me with their mix of curiosity and vitality. There was no fear, no anger, or hesitation. Just those clear eyes looking at something interesting. She appeared to be older than me, probably around 18, but it reminded me of how young girls sized up their new toys. These eyes didn’t fit into a world full of repetitive tasks and mud.

“Where am I?”

“In our village.”

“Your village?”

“Yep. The village behind the forest.”

Well, that didn’t help.

“And its name?”

“It’s our village. Why would we need a name?”

She looked at me in wonder.

“Then… what do travelers call this village?”

“It’s the village behind the forest. There are no travelers here.”

Frustrating.

I didn’t know whether this dreamworld copied the game’s world or not. And a nameless village wouldn’t help me with that either.

Further inquiries reinforced my dilemma. This was one of a few nameless villages around the insignificant town of Gladford. The town on the glade besides the ford, Gladford. A clue? Of course not. No town like this in the game’s beginner area.

My last hope was a merchant caravan that would arrive after the annual harvest. Maybe they had some information from farther regions. Or I might even accompany them back to Gladford. But that also meant waiting here for a few months.

“You can just work for us.” The village girl suggested. Though it was more of a fixed choice. “You’ll work off your punishment in the fields with the other men and help with the harvest.”

“My punishment?”

“Yep. Your punishment,” she reaffirmed, now more confused than curious. “Other villages deliver their criminals to the lord. He pays a handful of coins for each criminal and displays them on the square. But we are too far away from the town. So instead you can work in the fields. No shameful display and you can leave with the caravan.”

“And if I run?”

A stupid question. I had no food, no clothes, and no goal. It was simple defiance.

“You can try.”

She laughed. A clear laughter, with no restraint or shame, that tickled others to follow suit. But my laughter got caught in my throat.

Her outstretched arm pointed towards the wall beside her, or rather the club leaned against it. It looked heavy, with fresh blood drying on one side. My blood.

“You didn’t have enough energy to walk into our village and now you want to run away? Wouldn’t recommend that…” She snorted. “Just stay here for a while and work. It’s not that bad and you’ll get some clothes and a warm meal each day. That’s more than you would get elsewhere.”

I nodded. What other choice was there?

“That’s better. You’ll sleep in the next room, breakfast will be here, supper is on the square. Before the harvest, you’ll help with the trees or collect water. Doris makes clothes, but you’ll only get some after you helped enough.” She grabbed a pair of rags from a basket and threw it to me. “Use these for your feet. They… aren’t needed. Anyway. For now, follow me.”

Finished with her speech, she grabbed the club and walked to the outside.

Like a whirlwind.

I realized why the other villagers would entrust me to a single girl. No chance to beat her in my condition. In contrast, she was enough to capture me. Or to beat me into submission. Normal players would rage against this NPC’s behavior. But to me it was a pleasant change after months of despair and mothering.

And so I explored my new home.

[https://i.imgur.com/Z65vmha.jpg]

In short, it was two mud paths with a few wooden huts around it. A granary, a barn for the caravan, and a well. That was it. The modern world had houses with more residents.

Different fields filled most of the village’s area. Cabbage for the villagers, wheat for the caravan. Most families also cultivated smaller personal fields full of berries or herbs.

The adults ignored us as we walked through the village, using the last shafts of sunlight for their work. A few old men sat together and weaved baskets. And six small children played with a wooden swing as they sang a rhyming song.

Indifference.

Their reaction to a thief. Their reaction to an unknown resident. Their reaction to me.

Simple indifference.

But their quiet, even insipid, routine warmed my heart. No emergency, no panic, neither envy nor medical bills.

Excellent job, brain. This was better than a flashback through my entire life.

“Ah, I forgot.” The girl interrupted my thoughts when we returned to her home. “Thea.”

“Hmm?”

“Thea. My name is Thea.”

“Oh. My name is Aki.”

“Aki? That’s a weird name.”

She laughed.

“It wasn’t where I came from.”

“Okay.” An exaggerated nod. “You have to tell me stories from the outside. But before that…”

She smiled.

“Mr. Thief. Welcome to our village.”