With a few gold coins in his pocket and a tinge of hope in his chest, Cal wandered through the cobblestone streets of the bustling castle town. The sun was beginning to dip behind the mountains, casting a golden hue over the roofs of stone houses and wooden shacks. Every now and then, a horse-drawn cart rattled by, the scent of hay and manure lingering in the air. He passed shopkeepers yelling about fresh herbs, handwoven scarves, and even live chickens—but Cal had one mission in mind: find a place to stay.
"If I'm really stuck in another world, I'm gonna need a classic fantasy experience," he muttered to himself with a smirk. "That means one thing—tavern, booze, and maybe—just maybe—an elf girl who's into clueless strangers."
His fantasy was swiftly crushed.
The only tavern he found was leaning awkwardly to one side, with peeling wood and windows so dusty they looked painted over. A sign swung above the door on one chain, creaking with every breeze. It read "The Tired Mule."
"Yup… no way an elegant elf is walking through that door," Cal muttered. "But I guess it'll do."
He pushed open the door, and the wooden frame creaked louder than it should have. The moment he stepped inside, all conversation stopped. Half a dozen rough-looking patrons turned to look at him—mugs halfway to their mouths, brows raised, eyes narrowing.
Cal froze.
"Awkward..." he thought, feeling every inch of his dirt-smeared clothes cling to his skin. "Maybe I should've looked for a change of clothes before walking in here."
Ignoring the stares, he walked to the counter where a bald man with a heavy beard was wiping down a stained wooden surface.
"What's on the menu?" Cal asked, trying to sound casual.
The bartender grunted. "Bread and pumpkin soup. Last dish of the night—we're closing soon."
Cal blinked. "No meat? What about… I don't know… a burger?"
The man looked up. "A what now?"
"A burger. Meat in a bun. Maybe some lettuce?"
The bartender squinted at him, then barked a laugh. "Ah, never heard of that. Closest thing we got is chicken feet and rabbit milk."
Cal grimaced. "No thanks. I'll take the bread and pumpkin soup."
The man nodded and turned to the back. Cal leaned on the counter and cleared his throat again. "Also, I'm looking to stay a few nights. You got rooms? And uh… any chance you do baths?"
The man turned with a raised brow. "Five nights, with food and a bath? That's twenty silver."
"Silver…" Cal mumbled, patting his coin pouch. "I don't have silver. How about this?" He pulled out a gold coin and set it on the counter.
The bartender's eyes widened. He picked up the coin and inspected it. "Didn't expect someone like you carrying this."
Cal blinked. "Someone like me?"
The bartender chuckled. "Don't mean no offense. Just saying… clothes like that don't usually go with coins like these."
Cal gave a sheepish smile. "Let's just say I had a rough day. So… can I stay until the coin runs out?"
"You've got a deal," the man said with a nod. "Your room's upstairs. I'll have my daughter prep the bath. Eat first, then she'll take you."
Cal sat at a small corner table as the warm soup and hard bread were placed in front of him. The soup was thin but comforting, and the bread—though a bit dry—filled his empty stomach. As he ate, his thoughts drifted.
Is this really happening?
A medieval town, gold coins, swords… this has to be another world. But what if I'm just in a coma? What if I'm on life support somewhere and my brain's making this all up?
"Excuse me! Excuse me!"
The voice snapped him out of his spiral. Cal looked up to see a young blonde girl, probably in her late teens, wearing a plain brown dress and an apron. She looked unimpressed.
"Your bath's ready," she said flatly.
"Oh, thanks," Cal said, blinking.
"You gonna sit there all night, or you want me to punch some sense into you?"
"Wait, what?"
Before he could say more, she grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him to his feet. "I said, your bath's ready. Go wash before it gets cold."
"Right, right, got it…"
She led him to a side room where a large wooden tub sat steaming. It looked like someone had cut a wine barrel in half and filled it with hot water. Cal stepped in, sinking slowly until the warmth reached his chest.
"Ahhh…" he sighed. "This… this is what heaven feels like."
The heat soothed his tired muscles. He leaned back, closing his eyes. "After today, I deserve this. No paperwork. No emails. Just… warm water and maybe mild soap."
The blonde girl poked her head back in. "Don't fall asleep in there. You drown, I'm not hauling your corpse out."
"I'll keep that in mind," Cal muttered with a tired grin.
Eventually, he toweled off and climbed the creaky stairs to his room. It wasn't much—just a wooden bed, a small table, and a candle—but it felt like a palace after the last few days. He laid back on the straw mattress, staring up at the cracked ceiling.
Is this really my new life? Is this where I start over? Or… maybe I'll wake up in my apartment tomorrow and this'll all be a weird dream.
His eyelids grew heavy.
"I hope so…"