Albrecht took a deep breath, stepping out from behind the bar. His hands trailed along the counter's edge, its surface nicked and worn from years of service. For the first time since waking in this strange world, he had a moment to gather his thoughts.

  The inn was constructed almost entirely of old, sturdy wood. Its design was simple but functional.

  At the back of the room stood a well-stocked bar, its shelves lined with dusty bottles of varying shapes and sizes.

  To the left of the bar, a door led somewhere else—likely the kitchen. Albrecht made a mental note to explore it later.

  The main room itself was split into two levels. The bar area was slightly elevated above the rest of the space. Flanked by modest railings, a short set of steps led down to the eating area, where four tables were scattered.

  There were three small, square tables with seating for four. The fourth, a larger, rectangular table, had been smashed against the wall by one of the thugs. Now, though, every chair sat empty, and the air still carried a faint metallic tang of blood.

  As he moved toward the entrance, Albrecht tried his best to ignore the dead bodies lying on the ground. Instead, he looked at another door near the front leading upward.

  It seemed to spiral toward a second floor, likely the sleeping quarters for guests. He also noticed a small, non-lit fireplace on the right side.

  The inn wasn't large, but it was well laid out — structurally sound, easy to navigate, and defensible.

  Even in his disoriented state, Albrecht found himself noting the doorways, windows, and furniture positions like a general scanning a battlefield. Some habits of the mind didn't need time to settle; they were just there.

  Reaching the entrance door, he paused and grabbed the closed sign. He then opened the door.

  What he saw was… beautiful.

  Morning light spilled across the street, casting long, golden shadows against the weathered stone of the houses. Their wooden beams and slate roofs seemed to lean toward one another in a perfectly balanced way.

  A gentle breeze carried the faint scent of earth and baking bread, mingling with the muffled sound of distant wheels on cobblestones.

  Weirdly enough, the street itself was mostly empty. A lone horse-drawn carriage was rattling lazily along. Clad in a brown hooded cloak, its driver hummed a low tune as he passed.

  Only Here and there, a few figures moved across the street, dressed in cloaks of varying lengths. Many passersby carried weapons openly: swords, axes, and bows glinting faintly in the early sunlight.

  Albrecht's eyes caught on one particular individual, a robed figure leaning heavily on a staff capped with a glowing blue orb. The faint shimmer of the orb's light hinted at magic, and Albrecht's chest tightened at the sight.

  He exhaled slowly, his breath visible in the crisp morning air, and took a hesitant step onto the cobblestones.

  The world felt alive in a way he hadn't anticipated. Every sight and sound seemed amplified, bursting with a vibrancy he hadn't experienced in a while despite the street being mostly empty.

  A nagging thought pushed its way to the forefront of his mind. Since waking up in this world, Albrecht had sensed that something was different—not dramatically so, but enough to stir his curiosity. He felt an urgent need to see himself.

  His hands, in particular, caught his attention. They looked the same at a short glance but bore faint scars that hadn't been there before. Thin lines etched across his knuckles and palms like remnants of a life he hadn't lived.

  Without a mirror nearby, he turned to the next best thing. A shallow puddle near the door of a clothing store caught his eye, its surface rippling slightly in the morning breeze. He walked over and crouched beside it.

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  The face staring back at him was unmistakably his. The same sharp features, icy blue eyes, vivid and intense. Just like he'd always known. But his hair...

  Back on Earth, his hair was a plain shade of brown, unremarkable and easy to overlook. Now, it was a striking white blonde, short and neatly cropped, catching the morning light in a way that made it almost luminescent.

  He ran a hand through it, feeling the soft strands slide between his fingers. The color was so different, yet the texture was familiar. For a brief moment, he let out a breath of relief.

  But his clothes were completely different, a stark contrast to anything he would have worn on Earth.

  He was dressed in a simple yet well-kept innkeeper's attire, practical for long hours of work.

  A dark brown, long-sleeved tunic made of fabric fit snugly over his shoulders, the sleeves rolled up just past his wrists.

  Over it, he wore a sleeveless, earth-toned vest, slightly worn but tailored well, giving him an air of someone accustomed to managing a business rather than fighting.

  His trousers were thick and a simple shade of gray, ending just above his leather boots.

  Around his waist, a simple leather belt secured a small and empty pouch.

  At least he hadn't been completely transformed; he was still himself in most ways that mattered.

  Albrecht straightened, his reflection rippling away as he moved. The change in his hair color was unsettling but not as concerning as the scars on his hands.

  This world had altered him, but to what end? He stuffed his hands into his robe pockets, feeling the rough fabric against his skin.

  "Excuse me, sir. Are you looking for new clothes?"

  A soft voice startled Albrecht, pulling him away from his thoughts. He turned toward its source and found a young woman standing in the doorway of the clothing shop, just steps away from the puddle he'd been using as a makeshift mirror.

  Her long, wavy hair shimmered in the morning light, shifting between deep blue and soft lavender hues as it moved with the breeze. Her curious eyes, framed by delicate features, studied him with polite interest.

  Albrecht's heart skipped a beat, caught off guard by her sudden appearance and strikingly unusual hair. Realizing he hadn't responded yet, he cleared his throat awkwardly.

  "Uh… yeah. Sure," he stammered, his voice coming out higher than usual. "I was just about to come in."

  Embarrassment crept up his neck, his cheeks warming as he realized how odd he must have looked, crouching over a puddle, staring at his own reflection. Was he supposed to explain that? No, probably better not to.

  The young woman tilted her head slightly, an amused smile tugging at her lips, but she didn't press the matter. She looked about his age, around 17 like himself, and her expression softened as she stepped aside, gesturing for him to enter.

  "Well then, come on in. Let me know if you need anything," she said, her voice was very kind.

  Albrecht nodded, muttering a quick "Thanks."

  He exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing a bit. Albrecht stepped into the shop, his boots clicking softly against the wooden floor. The interior was cozy but cluttered, with racks of clothing and shelves stacked with bolts of fabric.

  The young woman followed him inside, her movements graceful and unhurried. She stopped near a marble counter and turned to face him, her curious expression shifting into a warm smile.

  "You looked like you were lost out there. I didn't mean to startle you," she said.

  Albrecht scratched the back of his neck, feeling the heat return to his cheeks. He said: "It's fine, I…uh, guess I've just got a lot on my mind."

  Her smile widened. She asked: "Are you new in Vaelmont?"

  Albrecht hesitated, turning the statement over in his mind. The inn belonged to his father—or rather, his father of this world.

  He thought about how Thereon knew his father, Vance, but not him. And this girl didn't seem to recognize him either, despite the inn being just across the street.

  Shaking off the thoughts, he refocused, determined not to make the moment more awkward than it already was.

  "You could say that," he answered, forcing a small but nervous laugh.

  The woman chuckled softly, clearly amused by him.

  "I'm Isla, by the way. My family owns this shop. We sell clothing and some enchanted accessories."

  She offered Albrecht a hand. He hesitated for a split second before shaking it.

  "My name is Albrecht. I'm just passing by this town for travel."

  "Ah, I see. It's nice to meet you."

  Isla let go of his hand and gestured toward a rack of simple tunics and cloaks.

  "Let me know if you need anything. We also do tailor-made clothes."

  Albrecht smiled faintly, her kindness easing some of the tension he hadn't realized he was carrying.

  "There's something I've been meaning to ask—is it always this quiet around here at this hour?"

  "No, the Central Continents Special Affairs Division is searching the whole town. They are saying that some dangerous criminal is hiding in Vaelmont. They even searched my parent's house a few streets away. They just barged in without warning…"

  "I see. Sorry to hear that." Albrecht responded.