Aditi crossed her arms and spoke firmly.

“First, let me break your bubble. If you’re expecting this to be your typical fantasy world—magic, monsters, or fairies—you’ll be disappointed. No one here is born with superpowers.”

I only nodded.

Her brows knitted in confusion. Most people would be crushed by such a statement, but I didn’t look even a little shaken.

“You aren’t… sad?” she asked cautiously. “That this isn’t the kind of world you imagined?”

I shrugged.

“If powers existed, my elbows would’ve healed by now, and training would’ve continued. Since they don’t, at least I don’t have to endure endless pain.”

That wasn’t the answer she expected. Still unsatisfied, she pressed on.

“Fine… then let’s start with something simpler. Your daily routine.”

Her tone turned more matter-of-fact.

“Since you’ve worked in the kitchen, you should already know about contribution points. They’re given to every worker depending on their tasks. Points are recorded publicly on the board every day. If you want to buy something, you first submit a request to your boss. Once approved, you get verification, which makes the purchase easier.

“After buying, you must show the receipt to your boss. The seller gains points, and the buyer loses them. Simple exchange.”

She paused, her eyes hardening.

“But if someone tampers with the board—tries to add or steal points without authority—it’s considered theft. And the punishment…”

Her voice dropped cold.

“The criminal’s arms are severed.”

I blinked. “That harsh, for theft?”

“It may sound cruel,” she said, “but it keeps order. Every boss’s ledger is reviewed by Vikramaditya and the elders. If a boss is caught stealing from their workers instead… their head is severed.”

Ash thought silently: This is like an open bank system where everyone’s account is public. But the punishments… no wonder theft is rare here.

Aditi broke the silence.

“This stronghold is on the border of Hastone country, under the Wikort Empire. One of the Four Empires.”

I simply nodded. She sighed.

“That’s enough for today. It’s late—I had to go looking for you. We’ll continue tomorrow.”

We both stood, and she walked me back to my tent.

It felt strange—like the roles were reversed. Usually, it’s the guy who escorts the girl. This time, Aditi was the one walking me home.

Neither of us spoke along the way. The night breeze brushed against our faces, cool and calming.

At the tent’s entrance, she stopped.

“Oh—before I forget. Vikramaditya won’t be available tomorrow. No training session for you.”

Again? Seriously, how does he always forget to mention something?

Whatever. I waved goodbye and slipped inside my tent.

By habit, I reached for my diary, but lifting my hands was still difficult. With a groan, I gave up.

Instead, I picked up the ointment Vikramaditya had given me earlier. I twisted the cap open.

A strong scent rose—sweet lavender. The thick, white salve clung to my palm.

If not for the lavender smell, I might’ve mistaken this for… something else.

I chuckled at my own thought. Though if someone mixed perfume with “something else,” no one would ever doubt it…

Still grinning, I applied the ointment.

The sting was immediate—sharp, like an ant bite. My elbows burned.

“Damn…” I hissed, clutching the joints.

The pain dragged me down, my knees buckling.

Thud.

The carpet caught me as drowsiness flooded in.

Within moments, I was asleep.

That night, Ash slept without nightmares. For the first time in a long while, his rest felt… peaceful.

Morning

Voices broke the silence outside his tent.

“It’s—him.”

“We can’t—tent—”

Ash groaned. God, please. Just this once, let me sleep peacefully. Feels like it’s been years since I had a good night’s rest.

He tried to ignore it, but his eyes jolted open when he sensed people nearby.

Inside his tent stood a crowd—men and women alike—staring straight at him.

Ash sat quietly, though his mind raced.

What did I do now? Don’t tell me they’re here to kill me.

A faint fragrance of sandalwood tickled his nose. Perfume? At this hour?

He pushed aside the shawl draped over him.

Wait. Shawl?

The texture was unlike anything he owned—soft, almost luxurious. His fingers didn’t want to let go.

Ah. So that’s why everyone barged into my tent.

Two muscular men grabbed him by the arms and hauled him outside like a misbehaving cat.

Before Ash could say anything, a man stepped forward—green suit, brown vest over a white shirt. For someone living in tents, he dressed more like a noble.

“This guy must be the one who stole my shawl,” the man declared. “A premium piece I made for my wife’s birthday today.”

Ash froze. A thought flashed in his mind. Of all things… a shawl thief? The creator of this world reduced to this?

The crowd roared.

“Punish the criminal!”

“Sever his arms!”

“As expected we shouldn't have trust a Serpentiler”

Ash’s stomach dropped. Great. No one here has a brain, apparently.

Even though some people didn't believe him has thief they couldn't oppose the majority.

He spotted Aditi, Vanford, Grisha, and Hela in the crowd. None spoke for him. Ash didn’t resent them—if anyone defended him without proof, they’d be branded accomplices.

Then, silence.

People bowed.

A woman in her forties entered, yari spear in hand, dressed like a European noble. One of the elders he had seen before. The crowd hushed instantly.

The merchant stepped forward.

“I am Goks Fless, a bedware merchant. This shawl—made of pure silk—was meant for my wife's birthday gift. I accuse this Serpentiler of stealing it.”

The elder’s gaze turned to Ash.

“Your defense?”

Finally, someone with sense.

Ash explained everything: parting ways with Aditi, falling asleep, waking to the commotion.

“Do you have an alibi?” the elder asked.

“…No.”

Goks smirked. The crowd muttered.

Ash raised his hand.

“If I may, Elder—let me ask him a few questions. I believe I can prove my innocence.”

The elder nodded.

“I, Alberna Yupre, Elder of this stronghold, commence a trial between Goks Fless and Serpentiler Ash Tennisson.”

The circle widened. Ash and Goks faced each other like opponents in a duel.

Ash asked casually, “How much is this shawl worth, anyway? For such a fuss, it must be… two, three hundred points?”

“Three thousand contribution points,” Goks replied smoothly.

Ash’s mind blanked. Sweat trickled down his forehead. Three thousand?! That’s almost a year’s salary.

Elder Alberna gave a small nod, confirming the price. No bluff.

Ash steadied himself. “When did you notice it was stolen?”

Goks explained how he placed the shawl on a table before waking his wife, only to return moments later and find it gone.

Ash countered, “So someone slipped in during that gap. First, I don’t even know where your tent is. Second, my elbows are injured—I can barely lift my arms. Third, why would I be dumb enough to flaunt a stolen item by sleeping with it openly?”

Goks smiled.

“First, we can’t verify your ignorance of my tent. Second, your injuries could’ve happened during the theft. Third, perhaps you thought we were dumb enough to fall for reverse psychology.”

Upon hearing the Goks rebuke people started discussing something.

Some people wanted to shout punish him but couldn't in front of elder.

Then Elder Alberna raised her hand making everyone present silent.

Her Aura was something which made everyone present bowed before her.

Ash grimaced. Damn… he’s not entirely wrong. Need something stronger.

“Ask Vikramaditya,” Ash blurted. “He saw my injuries himself—he even gave me this ointment.”

He held up the small jar.

A medic in the crowd stepped forward. “It’s ointment, yes. But… I don’t recall anyone requesting this from me.”

“Because Vikramaditya took it himself,” Ash said quickly.

The elder’s gaze sharpened.

“Vikramaditya is away in a neighboring village. He will return tomorrow. Even if he confirms your injury, suspicion remains. Unless you present solid evidence or a witness, the trial stands against you.”

Ash bit his lip. Seriously? No police, no tech, and now I’m expected to play detective in medieval court drama?

Elder Alberna raised her voice.

“Ash Tennisson is given two days to prove his innocence. Fail, and both arms will be severed.”

Two days? So one day per arm? The arms that created this world are worth only a day each?

Panic battled sarcasm inside him.

He wanted to reject the unfair trial. But he knew very well that this was the best outcome.

If he tried anything his hand would currently be on the floor.

He thought furiously. Who knew Goks’s tent? Who could sneak in silently? Who hates me enough to frame me? Too many suspects. Even if I point them out, without proof, it’s useless.

Ash lifted his head. “Elder, since everyone hates me, no one will cooperate in an investigation. I request assistance—people who can help.”

She considered, then ordered, “Grisha and Hela will aid you.”

The crowd dispersed, leaving only the three of them.

Grisha’s brown eyes studied him. Shoulder-length hair, a sharp cut near her chin.

“Did you really steal it?”

“Of course not,” Ash said firmly.

Hela, with blackish-blue hair flowing to her waist, spoke next. Her face carried the elegance of a model, but her voice was calm.

“Did you notice anything unusual? Something connected to the shawl?”

This was the first time Ash saw them properly.

Maybe because he was facing dilemma that he finally acknowledged them as humans instead of NPCs.

Ash’s eyes widened as a memory struck him.

Wait…

Elsewhere

In the charred ruins of a building, a man’s eyes snapped open. He looked at his arms, flexing slowly.

“Where… am I?” he murmured.