Eyes began to move towards them. This was one thing he hated. He usually kept a low profile in the worlds he visited, but it seemed that the universe had other bitter plans for him. Now, things were worse. If this were Lik and someone had shouted, nobody would've cared, and everyone would've minded their business, busy with their phones and gadgets.

His dirty clothes would have helped him escape attention. But here, the clothes had already given him away. He looked poor. And once someone shouted “thief,” even if he hadn’t stolen, the rags on his body had already marked him as guilty.

He couldn’t believe he was so poor that even in a past-world village, he still looked poor.

More people began to gather.

A large man walked toward him, his voice coming out in a deep growl before he spoke loudly.

"What is it?" his voice rang out, and the mob instantly fell silent.

Why so loud, bro? I’m right in front of you…! Show-off! Zavry thought to himself.

The butcher stepped forward, his thick accent slicing through the quiet.

"This bastard here carries off my roasted meat and corn and wants to leave!" the man yelled at him, his eyes wide with fury as gasps echoed all around.

Why are these villagers so dramatic? Zavry thought, rolling his eyes at their reaction. It wasn’t as if he stole the whole market.

“You dare roll your eyes?” one man in the crowd roared as he stepped out; he had caught the movement in Zavry’s eyes. Zavry quickly shook his head, raising his hands to signal that he hadn’t meant anything by it. But the man misunderstood—again.

"You dare call me dumb…?"

Before Zavry could even think, the man’s fist connected with his face. Pain seeped through his nose, and he crashed to the ground. A gasp escaped the crowd as they stared at his now unmoving body.

The man who had punched him looked panicked as the butcher slowly walked over. The butcher knelt to check Zavry's pulse. His body went still. That said everything. He stood up slowly. Silence consumed the crowd as everyone waited for his verdict.

Even the man who had struck him looked terrified, waiting for the butcher to say something—anything. Was the boy dead? Was he cooked?

But the butcher said nothing. He simply stepped back, grabbed a large bag, and started packing his things. It was then that the realization hit.

"Aaaaahhhhhh!" a woman screamed, as blood began to pool beneath Zavry's head.

"He's dead!" She screamed again.

Panic exploded. People began to run. The man who hit him bolted. The entire market descended into chaos. Sellers packed up their goods; some abandoned them and fled.

Minutes passed. No one remained.

Of course, no one would stay. In this village, if you killed someone, you'd be put on trial by the elders. And no one wanted that. Even bribing your way out costs more than what anyone made selling in the market.

Zavry's body shifted.

He clenched the food pack in his hand tighter as a slow grin curled his lips.

"What a day to play dead," he muttered in his head as he sat up.

He stood quickly, picking up a cloth and wiping the blood off his head. Then, without hesitation, he unwrapped the bag and began eating the chicken and corn.

He hadn't expected them to scatter like that.

These people were dumber than he thought. The man had punched his face, not his head, yet they had run like wild animals.

His body stilled when he noticed a small boy at the edge of the market, his face dusty as he peeked at Zavry. Zavry guessed he was a beggar, and of course, the only sensible one, as clearly he hadn’t run away like the others.

He reached out his hand, and the boy slowly stepped forward. When he stopped in front of Zavry, his tired eyes settled on the remaining corn and meat. Zavry handed it to him.

"Thank you, Mr. Dead," the boy said calmly.

Zavry's eyes widened, then he smirked. This boy must have seen through his act. He nodded as the boy began eating hungrily.

Maybe he could ask the boy where the castle was.

The boy looked up, his brown hair disheveled.

"Do you have something to say?" he asked curiously, cheeks puffed with food as he chewed slowly.

Zavry nodded. He couldn't sign here—and he had no paper or pen.

Noticing his struggle, the boy spoke again.

"Come with me."

Zavry nodded and followed. The boy looked no older than nine. They walked until they reached a bushy area. The boy plucked out a stick. Nearby, candlelight glowed faintly. He pointed at the ground and handed the stick to Zavry.

“You can write on the floor.”

"Seems I really am a dumbass," he muttered to himself as he bent down and wrote,

'Where is the castle?'

The boy read it easily. Zavry wondered how he could read, but brushed it off.

"Do you have a mission to accomplish before you go to the land of the dead?" the boy asked curiously.

Zavry stared at him. He had forgotten how inquisitive little kids could be. If only the boy knew how much time he had wasted here already—and he still hadn't reached his destination.

"Thanks for the corn and meat, Mr. Dead."

“What is with this boy and ‘Mr. Dead?” Zavry wondered, staring at him.

"Go straight ahead, to the far left side. In fact, you're lucky…it won't take more than five minutes to reach the castle," the boy said, lifting his head confidently.

Zavry nodded and bent down to write 'thank you' in the sand.

But when he looked up again, the boy was gone.

He glanced around.

“Is this kid playing hide and seek?” he thought. At least he now knew the way.

He walked calmly to the empty road, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a handheld flashlight. The place was eerily quiet, but he didn't mind at all.

He kept walking until finally he reached—

What greeted him were tall, imposing walls.

He sighed, pushing his hair back.

The castle was massive—he could see the taller parts of the building despite the darkness.

After several frustrating minutes of walking, he saw the gate…

“Fuck”

Now, how was he supposed to get inside?

As if that wasn't enough, it started to rain.

***

Thunder clapped as the harsh rain hit Zavry's head. This was not what he had wanted. He was wasting time here—lots and lots of time—and this would affect his mission.

The rain drenched his body completely as he tried to move

“Oh crap, I need to pee,” he said to himself.

“Just pee. No one will know, it'll mix with the rain,” Rune suddenly spoke as Zavry tilted his head. Rune was awake.

"You don't know the amount of pain you've caused me in that nightmare. Stop putting me to sleep when you're awake. I suffer a lot, please… And I'm sure you needed me, given your condition right now.”He spoke at the end with an almost mocking tone.

Zavry said nothing, which meant Rune was right.

"You need to apologize."

"Fuck off," Zavry deadpanned, pushing his hands through his hair in frustration as the cold began to seep through his body. Plus, the annoying wind had decided this was its time to shine.

“Bro, pride won't allow you to give a simple apology? What's there to say? Just three words. It seems like your stupidity and—”

“Shut up, Rune. I'll send you to sleep again,” Zavry said in his head, clearly annoyed. He did not like this at all. Not to mention, he was already stranded, holding his pee, his mission time was ticking, and he had lost blood trying to fake his death earlier.

"You won't. You're stranded. I know you won't."

Rune spoke mockingly, and Zavry gritted his teeth. This was such an annoying mission, but he had no choice. He needed to do this.

“Okay, fine. I a…apolo—”

"Say it," Rune interrupted, and Zavry frowned.

"You'd better shut up and let me make the stupid apology," he said, annoyed as Rune laughed.

"Stupid? You know what—I don't even want the apology anymore," he said.

A frown fell on Zavry's lips as his hand angrily banged the gate hard. His annoyance was now very visible.

"Heyyy! Who dares?" a deep voice echoed from inside, and Zavry sighed. On the bright side, he had unknowingly called them. But now, how was he going to tell them to let him in?

A tall man appeared, wearing a royal guard uniform. He stood with a frown, an umbrella over his head.

"Did you lose your way?" the man asked, with displeasure written all over his face as he stared at the boy.

Zavry moved as Rune spoke.

“Give him a respectful bow. Idiots like this love feeling superior when it comes to commoners.”

Zavry moved and bowed his head deeply. The man's frown slowly faded, replaced with calmness.

“You're right, for once,” Zavry said to Rune.

“Tch!”

"How the fuck am I supposed to ask this man to open the gate?" he thought to himself, realizing he couldn't write on the ground—the rain would sweep it away before he even started.

"Ahg...ehg…ehhh," he said, as he pointed at his mouth and shook his head, trying to tell the guard that he couldn’t speak. The man finally understood.

"Oh, poor boy. You're deaf and dumb."

Zavry's mouth opened slightly at the man's words.

Must he add ‘dumb? He wondered.

Zavry could not speak, but that did not mean he was deaf; he could understand words perfectly.

“I mean, he's not wro—” Rune spoke, and Zavry cut him off.

“Be quiet.”

"Wait here," the man said, turning and walking into the small shaded guard shack beside the gate.

“At least he should've invited me in,” Zavry muttered to himself as he waited for the guard to return.

“If you were in his shoes, would you even invite yourself in…?Bro, be realistic, “ Rune spoke as Zavry remained silent, ignoring him.

Not long after, the man returned.

“Bow again,” Rune said, but Zavry raised an eyebrow.

“I'm not doing that shit,” he said, almost annoyed. He held back the frown that was about to form on his face. Cold had already seeped into his body—he couldn't believe how chillingly frigid he was at the moment.

"Can you read and write?" the man asked, and Zavry nodded.

"Good. Now write what you need here, and be fast about it."

Zavry nodded, expecting a pen and paper, but to his surprise, what the man held out was a small piece of wood and a pin.

“Oh, what was I expecting? I'm a commoner, after all,” Zavry thought, as the man extended his arm and slipped the wood through a thin gap in the gate—just wide enough to pass through.

"Write what you are here for. One minute," the man said.

Zavry nodded, took the wood, and began writing.

Thunder roared again as lightning blinked twice through the rain. Zavry finally raised his head and passed the wood back through the gate.

The man read it, and just as he finished, he burst into laughter—a real laugh, not fake. And the more he guffawed, the more annoyed Zavry became.

"You want to speak to the prince, and you expect me to open the gate because you're what—a god?!" The man chuckled again in sarcasm. If he only knew his sarcastic remark was actually true. But then, his face turned into a frown.

"The moment you came here, I knew you were dumb…But I had no idea you were this dumb," he said.

And before Zavry knew it, the man shouted, “Get out!”

The words sliced through the rain.

Zavry couldn't believe it. He had wasted so much time, only to be told to leave now.

"Zavry, you have twenty minutes left for this mission—unless you want to start from level one all over again," Rune said worriedly.

Just as the man turned to leave, he noticed the boy's lips curl up into a predatory smile. His eyes widened.

“One thing I hate is my time being wasted. And I’ve tried to be civilized…” Zavry thought to himself, his blue pupils beginning to blaze.

"Bro, please…y-you have to calm down. We don't want to make a scene. Remember, we have to do things low-key," the mind-plant tried to convince Zavry to stop whatever he was planning.

But it seemed Zavry had already made up his mind.

The guard froze in shock when he heard a deep, cold voice echo through his head.

"Now open the fucking gate."