A Stranger in a Strange Land

Act I: Arrival and Adjustment (Exposition)Chapter 1: A Stranger in a Strange Land

Kei awoke to the sensation of cool grass against his fingertips and the distant echo of unfamiliar birdsong. His body felt numb and strangely light, as if he were floating just above the earth. Am I... alive? The last thing he remembered was ... something indistinct—pain, a blinding flash—then nothing. Yet here he was, blinking up at a pastel dawn sky. The air smelled different from anything on Earth: sweeter, tinged with woodsmoke and wildflowers.

Confusion swirled in his mind as he slowly sat up, each movement tentative.

A concerned face loomed into view above him: a woman with a kind, round face framed by graying chestnut hair pulled into a loose braid. She looked to be in her forties, with laugh lines around her eyes and strong-looking arms dusted with wood shavings. Her green eyes widened the moment Kei met them. "Oh heavens, are you alright, dear?" she exclaimed, voice gentle yet trembling with an excitement Kei couldn't place. Before he could answer, the woman knelt and pressed a work-roughened hand to his forehead, checking for fever as if he were a sick child. Kei flinched in surprise at the sudden motherly touch.

"I... I think I'm okay," he managed softly. His throat felt dry and his words came out hoarse. English? Whatever language had spilled from his lips, the woman seemed to understand. She let out a sigh of relief.

"Thank the goddess," she murmured. Her eyes flicked over him in astonishment, as though she could scarcely believe what she was seeing. "You gave me a fright, lad. What in the world are you doing out here all alone?"

Alone. Kei's mind spun. He looked around: he was on the outskirts of a small rural village, seated at the edge of a dirt road. Morning light gilded the thatched roofs of cottages in the distance. A few curious faces peered from behind a nearby fence—all women, he realized with a jolt. In fact, the hands supporting him by the shoulders belonged to this sturdy woman kneeling at his side... and she, too, was female. The villagers beyond, the distant farmers in the fields, even the two armored figures jogging closer down the lane—every single person in view was a woman. Kei's heart kicked in his chest. Where are all the men?

The woman helped Kei to his feet carefully. "Easy now," she said, clucking under her breath as he wobbled. He was still dizzy; the world tilted and he accidentally leaned into her. She propped him up without hesitation, one arm steady around his back. "There we are. Can you walk, my dear?"

Kei flushed at her casual endearment and the unexpected warmth of her support. He didn't usually have anyone fussing over him—certainly not a stranger, and certainly not a woman twice his age treating him like precious porcelain. "Y-yes, I think so," he replied, finding his balance. He stood a few inches taller than her, and when she stepped back to properly look at him, her expression melted from worry into open wonder.

"In all my years... a real human male," the woman breathed, almost reverently. Her hand hovered as if she wanted to touch his face just to be sure he was real. Kei felt his cheeks burn. He was twenty years old—hardly a child—but under her awed gaze he suddenly felt as bashful as a little boy.

"I'm Kieran Beckett... Kei, for short," he offered quietly, trying to regain some semblance of normal social interaction. He dipped his head politely. Introduce yourself properly, he chided himself, though confusion still fogged his thoughts. "Thank you for helping me, Miss...?"

That shook her from her astonishment. "Oh! Where are my manners? I'm Marna," she answered, smiling wide enough to crinkle her eyes. "Just Marna is fine. I live here in Rosewallow Village. I was out collecting wood scraps and—I nearly tripped over you!" She gave a soft laugh of pure delight, as though tripping over an unconscious man in the grass was the happiest moment of her life.

Kei tried to smile back, though every muscle in his face wanted to form a perplexed frown instead. Marna's overflowing warmth left him at a loss. On Earth he'd been a shy nobody; no one had looked at him with this mix of joy and disbelief before. He rubbed the back of his neck, an old nervous habit, and found that his raven-black hair was full of dried leaves. I must look like a mess, he thought. Possibly even injured or ill—and yet Marna stared at him like he was some miracle.

"Come, let's get you into the village," Marna said gently, gesturing down the road. "You must be hungry. And tired. And confused, I'll wager." She chuckled kindly. "Don't worry, love. We'll sort everything out. You've had quite the shock, I'm sure."

Kei opened his mouth to protest that he didn't want to impose, but Marna had already hooked her arm through his, ushering him forward with surprising strength. His protest died as another wave of dizziness hit; he really was unsteady, and her support was welcome. "Thank you," he murmured instead, meaning it wholeheartedly. A quiet sense of gratitude bloomed in his chest—somehow, he hadn't landed in this world completely alone. This stranger's kindness was a lifeline he hadn't known he needed.

As they walked towards the heart of Rosewallow Village, Kei took in as much as his spinning head allowed. The dirt path turned to cobblestone under his borrowed boots (Marna had quickly realized he was barefoot and insisted he wear the spare work boots tied to her pack). Small timber-framed houses lined the road, their shutters thrown open to the morning breeze. Window boxes overflowed with colorful blossoms. The smell of baking bread drifted by, making Kei's stomach clench with sudden hunger. He hadn't eaten since... well, since dying, presumably. The realization sent a shiver through him—he was indeed reborn, in a world clearly not his own.

But even more arresting than the quaint village scenery were the people. Women—young and old, humans and even a few with catlike ears or tiny horns—filled the marketplace at the village center. Kei saw blacksmiths hammering at forges, fisherwomen unloading baskets of the morning catch, and merchants arranging bolts of cloth at their stalls. All of them were undeniably female, from the brawny smith with soot on her cheek to the lithe elf-eared baker laughing as she sold pastries.

As Marna guided him through the marketplace, one by one the villagers noticed the stranger at her side. Conversations halted mid-sentence. Dozens of eyes turned toward Kei, and an uncanny hush fell over the bustling square. Kei felt the weight of their stares and instinctively tried to make himself smaller, shoulders hunching. This is awkward… He'd never been comfortable being the center of attention. Back on Earth he'd been the kid who slipped through school hallways unnoticed, the quiet guy in the corner of the workshop. Now suddenly everyone was looking at him as if he had a second head.

Women of all ages paused their work to gape or whisper excitedly as he passed, confirming the extreme gender imbalance Marna had mentioned. Kei was uncomfortable with the sudden attention, unused to being remarkable. When a little girl broke away from her mother's side and darted up to him, he froze in surprise.

It was a child of maybe six, with dark curls tied in pink ribbons. In her tiny fist she clutched a single yellow wildflower. She stopped directly in front of Kei and looked up, her blue eyes huge with wonder and excitement.

Kei's heart melted on the spot. The absolute earnestness in her face overcame his shyness for a moment. The girl held out the slightly wilted flower toward him, her hand shaking only a little.

"Welcome, sir," she piped in a high, sing-song voice. "This is for you."

Kei gently accepted the flower from her, crouching down to better meet her eye. "Thank you," he said softly, trying his best to be gentle. He hoped it was the right response—he had no idea that in this land, it was local custom for young girls to present flowers to any rare male visitor as a sign of respect. He only knew that her gesture was the sweetest thing he'd ever encountered.

"What's your name?" he asked, giving her a tentative smile. Out of the corner of his vision he saw the crowd leaning in, dozens of women hanging on his every word and movement.

The girl giggled, half-hiding behind her hands now that she'd completed her brave task. "Mari," she said, peeking at him between her fingers.

"It's very nice to meet you, Mari. This flower is beautiful." Kei felt terribly self-conscious but also oddly happy as he spoke to her. He wasn't used to talking to children at all, yet something about her guileless offering made him relax. Without thinking, he reached out and lightly patted Mari's head, just once. Her hair was soft, and she let out a squeak of delight.

That innocent act caused a ripple of delighted "aww!" among the onlooking women, followed by a surge of excited giggles and murmurs. Kei stood back up, realizing belatedly that such familiarity might have been presumptuous. But the villagers didn't seem offended—on the contrary, they looked utterly charmed.

"Isn't he the sweetest thing?" someone whispered loudly.

"He thanked her so politely! And that smile—" another voice tittered.

Kei's ears burned. He bowed his head slightly to the wider crowd in what he hoped was a respectful greeting, clutching Mari's flower like a talisman. I've done nothing at all, and yet... and yet they were treating him like something precious. He internally wrestled with confusion – he'd done nothing, yet everyone was looking at him as if he were a treasured sight.

He felt overwhelmed by the attention, unsure how to handle it beyond clinging to Marna's steady presence at his side. His mind raced: This world really is female-dominated... A hundred women for every man? Could that be literal? He tried counting in the crowd and quickly lost track after several dozen women—there wasn't a single man in sight besides himself. It was as if he'd stumbled into a fairy-tale kingdom that had never heard of Y chromosomes.

"Alright, that's enough gawking," Marna suddenly declared, good-natured but firm. "Let's not crowd the poor lad. Shoo, now—some of us have business to finish today!" She gave a pointed look to a few younger women who had crept especially close. They flushed and backed off a step, though not without broad grins cast Kei's way.

Marna shook her head with a fond sigh and leaned in to whisper to Kei, "You must forgive them, dear. Most have never seen a man outside of picture books or the holotube." She began to guide him onward through the square, the crowd parting reluctantly. "It's quite an event for Rosewallow. I expect they'll be talking about you for years."

"Really?" Kei whispered back, astonished. The idea of being the subject of village gossip for years made him almost cringe, but Marna patted his arm reassuringly.

"Don't you worry. They mean well. You being here is... well, it's a blessing in these parts." There was genuine warmth in her voice, and something like pride too, as if simply by existing Kei had done something praiseworthy.

He didn't know how to reply to that. A blessing? Him? Just one day ago—no, however long ago in his past life—he'd been a lonely craftsman whose disappearance might go unnoticed for weeks. Now he was apparently a local treasure.

Kei allowed Marna to steer him down a side lane toward a cozy-looking cottage. Her home, he assumed. The baked bread smell was stronger here, likely from her kitchen, and his stomach rumbled loudly in response. He was too hungry to even be embarrassed about it.

Marna caught the sound and laughed. "Let's get some food in you straight away. You'll feel better with a hot meal." She opened the wooden gate of her cottage's front garden, ushering Kei along a stone path flanked by neatly tended flower beds. Bees buzzed lazily over bright clusters of blooms. The cottage itself was charming—whitewashed walls and a cheerful blue door under a mossy thatch roof. Over the door hung a wooden sign carved with an emblem of a chisel and a needle crossing each other.

Noting Kei's curious glance at the sign, Marna explained, "I'm a craftswoman by trade—woodwork and a bit of tailoring. Not that those two usually go together, but I've got many interests." She beamed with modest pride. "We artisan types like to display our symbols like that."

Kei's eyes lit up despite his exhaustion. "You're an artisan?" he echoed. Crafting was his passion, and even in his disoriented state, hearing that Marna made things was comforting. It anchored him to a familiar part of himself. A fellow maker, in this strange new world. "That's amazing. I—I used to do woodwork too. As a hobby," he added quickly, lowering his gaze. It felt almost presumptuous to call himself a craftsman when he was essentially nobody here. Still, Marna's eyebrows lifted in delight.

"Did you now? Well, isn't that splendid!" She opened her door, gesturing him inside. "We'll have plenty to chat about then, after you've rested. But first, you eat."

The interior of Marna's cottage was snug and inviting. Kei ducked slightly under the low lintel to step in. Immediately he was enveloped by the aroma of fresh baked bread and something savory simmering in a pot. The main room served as both kitchen and living space, with a tidy brick hearth at one end and a round wooden table at the other. Sunlight slanted through lattice windows, illuminating shelves filled with folded fabrics, carved wooden trinkets, and various tools organized neatly in rows. A rocking chair with a half-finished quilt draped over its back sat in one corner, and a sturdy workbench strewn with carving tools occupied another.

Kei felt an instant kinship with this place—a home that doubled as a workshop. It reminded him of his cramped studio apartment back on Earth, perpetually cluttered with screws, wood scraps, and DIY projects. Except Marna's cottage was far homier and well-kept, with a feminine touch in the flower vases and embroidered curtains.

"Sit, sit," Marna insisted, guiding him to the table. The chair creaked slightly as Kei sank into it, the simple act of sitting making him realize how drained he was. His legs trembled with relief under the table. Marna bustled about, ladling a hearty stew from the pot into a bowl. She tore off a hunk of crusty bread from a loaf cooling on the counter and set it on a plate before him.

Kei's mouth watered. "This looks wonderful," he said sincerely. The stew was rich with chunks of meat and vegetables in a fragrant herbed broth, and the bread was still warm.

Marna all but hovered as Kei took his first spoonful. It was delicious—comforting and flavorful. He hadn't realized just how cold and empty he felt until the warmth of the meal spread through him. A soft involuntary sigh escaped him.

Marna's face practically glowed at his reaction. "There's plenty more. You just say the word if you want seconds, alright?" She folded her arms, watching him eat with open satisfaction, much like a proud aunt who finally has someone to fuss over.

Kei's natural politeness kicked in through his hunger. "It's very good. Thank you, Marna." He hesitated, then added quietly, "I... I don't know how I'll ever repay your kindness." He truly meant it—finding himself in a strange world, he could have been left to fend for himself, but instead he'd been all but adopted on sight by this generous craftswoman.

Marna waved this off with a tut. "No repayment needed. You just focus on getting your strength back." She grabbed a pitcher. "Here, some water. Drink up." She poured him a tall cup of water infused with slices of citrus and mint. Kei drank eagerly, the cool freshness washing down the stew.

As he ate, Marna couldn't contain her curiosity any longer. She sat down across from him. "If you feel up to it... do you mind if I ask how you came to be lying out there? We don't get many travelers, let alone..." She gestured at him, as if male was a word too significant to speak casually.

Kei paused, the spoon halfway to his mouth. How could he possibly explain? Hey, I'm actually from another world; I think I died and woke up here by magic. Nice to meet you. That would sound insane—or worse, dangerous. He decided on a half-truth, lowering the spoon. "I'm... not really sure," he said slowly. "I was traveling, and something happened. An accident." That was close enough to the truth—he was fairly sure something like an accident had killed him in his past life, though the details were fuzzy. "Next thing I knew, I was here." He offered an apologetic, confused smile. "I'm sorry, I don't have a better story than that."

Marna's expression softened even further, if that were possible. "You poor thing," she murmured. "You must have been through a great ordeal. No wonder you looked so dazed."

Kei flushed and focused intently on his stew. The concern in her voice was genuine and almost suffocating; he wasn't used to being doted on like this. "I—I'm alright. Really," he insisted. "A bit disoriented, but not hurt."

Marna reached across the table and gave his hand a pat. The gesture was so maternal that Kei felt a lump rise in his throat. "Well, you're safe now," she said firmly. "You can stay here as long as you need, Kei. My home is your home. I've got a spare room that's just been gathering dust and spare quilts." She chuckled. "And trust me, the whole village will be happy to have you around. It's not every day we get to welcome a newcomer. Let alone a young man."

At that, Kei finally voiced one of the questions burning in him. "I couldn't help noticing that I haven't seen any, um, any other men." He tried to phrase it delicately, but his bewilderment leaked into his tone. "Is it really so unusual to see a male here? Marna... what's the ratio? It seems like... like almost everyone is female."

Marna leaned back, studying him curiously, as if confirming that he truly didn't know. "My lands, you weren't kidding about being disoriented." She shook her head, smiling a bit. "Yes, dear. In our world—well, I suppose it is your world now too, hmm?—men are incredibly rare. The ratio varies region to region, but overall perhaps one man for every hundred women."

"One for every hundred..." Kei echoed in awe. Hearing the number spoken out loud was staggering, even if the evidence was all around him. He tried to imagine how society could function with such a skew, but before he could spiral down that thought, Marna continued gently.

"It wasn't always so extreme, according to ancient records. But it's been this way for many generations now. Here in our little corner of the queendom, a woman can live her whole life without ever meeting a man in person. Most families have none. Some noble lines keep a husband or two in the estate, or a community might have one elderly gentleman around, but... mostly, we carry on as if men are a distant rarity. Like dragons—" She caught herself with a laugh. "Not that you're a dragon, sorry! Only meaning rare and treasured."

Kei managed a slight laugh at the comparison. "I-I understand. Like a myth come to life." He gazed down at his empty bowl. It was a lot to absorb. In this world, he was practically a unicorn—a male adult in a society that barely had any.

Marna stood and took his bowl, replacing it swiftly with a second helping of stew despite his small protest. "In the queendom of Eridia," she went on, "we women handle everything—farming, crafting, governance, protecting our villages. We always have. And we're quite capable of it, too." She gave him a proud little wink. "But that doesn't mean men aren't important. Quite the opposite. Because men are so few, each one is considered... well, precious."

Kei nodded slowly. "Precious," he repeated, tasting the word with a mix of curiosity and discomfort. That explained the reverent looks, the gifts, the flower from little Mari. It wasn't just idle flattery; culturally, they likely did view him as precious. He'd gone from being expendable (in his own mind anyway) to being considered some kind of treasure, all by virtue of an accident of birth ratio. The thought was humbling and unsettling in equal measure.

"Precious doesn't mean fragile, mind you," Marna added, misreading the crease in his brow. "Men can be as strong or smart as any woman. It's just that, with so few of you, our society tends to be protective. Overprotective, perhaps." She chuckled. "You'll see. They'll try to spoil you rotten and shield you from any hard work or danger. I suspect you've already gotten a taste of that."

He thought of the grandmotherly villager scolding others to give him space and almost forcing him to take lemonade for merely lifting a hammer. Kei grimaced wryly. "A bit, yeah."

Marna reached over to squeeze his hand briefly. "I know, love. And bless you for having such a down-to-earth attitude. Many men, on the rare occasion they appear, lean into the pampering. Not that I blame them, mind—if the world insists you live easy, you might as well. But you…" She smiled fondly. "You remind me of my brother when he was alive. He never could sit still and be waited on either."

Kei looked down at his teacup to hide the emotion in his eyes. Quietly, he said, "You had a brother?"

"Had a brother, had a husband. Both passed some years ago," she said softly. Noticing Kei's stricken expression, she added, "It's alright, dear. They lived good lives. And as you might guess, it was a stroke of incredible luck that my family had any men at all. My brother Jonah was a sweetheart, quite like you actually—stubborn about doing things himself." Her eyes went a bit distant with memory, but she kept a smile. "And my Hubert, gods rest him, was an older man when I met him. A widower from a city. I was his second wife. He passed of illness a decade back."

Kei felt a pang of sorrow on her behalf, but also curiosity. She'd mentioned being a second wife, which implied men might have multiple marriages or that polyandry perhaps existed, given the scarcity. He filed away questions about how families worked here for another time. Instead, he said, "I'm sorry for your losses. Thank you for telling me."

Marna nodded, patting his hand. "I only mention it so you know—I do understand that men have their own minds and talents. My brother was a talented glassblower, and my husband was a scholar of history. Neither were content to just lounge about. So I won't treat you like a houseplant, I promise." She winked, making Kei laugh despite the heavy subject. "But you must permit an old bird to fuss now and then, deal?"

Kei grinned and mimed zipping his lips. "Deal."

Thus settled, the two spent the rest of the morning in a comfortable routine. Marna showed him the small guest room—really a storage room she hastily cleared of bolts of cloth and spare lumber. Inside was a simple but clean cot, a washbasin on a stand, and a little window that looked out over her back garden. Kei placed the yellow wildflower from Mari in a cup of water on the windowsill, smiling faintly to himself. It was already wilting, but he wanted to keep it as a reminder that this bizarre morning had been real.

They then set about tidying up the leftover mess from the fence repair outside. Marna tried to insist he rest instead, but Kei was adamant about helping. In truth, physical activity grounded him; measuring and hammering nails came more naturally than sitting with his swirling thoughts. As he worked, his mind replayed the madness of the market scene: all those eyes on him, all those women. It felt like he'd stumbled into an alternate reality (which, he reminded himself, he literally had). One in which I'm the only unicorn in town. He let out a breathy laugh at the thought, shaking his head as he hammered the final nail to secure a rail.

"Laughing, are we?" Marna teased from where she was gathering the old broken fence posts. She had insisted on carrying the heavier scrap wood herself and left Kei the lighter tasks—some habits of protectiveness died hard.

Kei grinned sheepishly. "Just thinking how strange all this is. Yesterday I was..." he trailed off. Yesterday I was dead. "...not here," he finished lamely.

Marna gave him a sympathetic look. "It's a lot to take in, I'm sure. You're handling it remarkably well. If I woke up in a world of nothing but men, saints preserve me, I'd probably faint dead away for a week," she joked, nudging him.

He laughed, the tension in him loosening a bit more. Marna's easygoing humor was infectious. "I think you'd handle it better than you think," he replied kindly. "You strike me as someone who can get used to anything if you have to."

She raised a brow, clearly pleased. "Adapting is part of surviving, that's true enough." With the fence now sturdily rebuilt (and looking even better than before, thanks to Kei's careful alignment of the slats), the two headed back inside.

By late afternoon, Kei found himself dozing by the hearth after an unexpectedly full day. He sat on a woven rug with his back against the armchair, enjoying the crackling of a small fire Marna had lit to ward off the evening chill. A soft quilt—one of Marna's creations—was draped over him. He had protested he wasn't cold, but she insisted. The day's earlier clouds had cleared, and golden light slanted in through the windows, illuminating dancing motes of dust. It gave the living room a dreamlike haze.

Marna was humming in the kitchen as she kneaded dough for the next day's bread. The rhythmic sound of her hands working the dough was oddly soothing.

Kei let his head tilt back against the armchair, eyelids growing heavy. He felt... safe. Safer than he'd felt in a long, long time. On Earth, his life had been one of solitude—quiet days in his workshop and quiet nights in a small, empty apartment. He had no doting mother figure there, no community excited to see him. Here, less than a full day after opening his eyes, he had been fed, cared for, even celebrated in a way. The gentle gratitude warming his chest was almost enough to eclipse the underlying confusion and fear of this unknown situation.

I have a second chance. The thought rose up, clear and resolute. Whatever twist of fate or magic brought me here, I survived. I should make the most of it.

He knew he couldn't drift on Marna's kindness forever. He had to find a place for himself in this world. And if what he loved was making things, then that would be his path. The memory of the villagers watching him hammer nails flashed through his mind, and he snorted softly. It'll be tricky if every time I use a screwdriver an audience applauds. He hoped bigger towns might be a bit more jaded about men doing stuff, though Marna's earlier warnings suggested otherwise.

Kei's eyelids were growing heavy. The combination of a full stomach, the warmth of the fire, and sheer emotional exhaustion was pulling him towards sleep. He shifted to stretch out his legs when a soft ding sounded in the air.

At first, he thought he had imagined it—like a distant bell or a chime in his half-dreaming state. He blinked hard, lifting his head. The room was the same, Marna's humming still coming from the kitchen. But in front of him, faintly, he saw something... glowing.

He sat up fully, his heart skipping. Yes, there was definitely a light, hazy and blue, hovering at eye level just a foot away. Kei rubbed his eyes. Was he dreaming? The light sharpened. To his astonishment, ghostly letters began to flicker into existence within the glow, as if someone were writing in midair with shimmering ink.

Kei glanced toward Marna. She was still kneading dough at the counter, oblivious. The floating text clearly wasn't visible to her. It dawned on Kei that this might be his, and his alone—the cheat or ability often granted to protagonists in those web novels he'd occasionally read. In his old life, he'd been a fan of fantasy RPGs and isekai stories. The realization both excited and terrified him.

The letters stabilized, and Kei could read them clearly now:

Welcome, User! Initializing Crafting and Life System…

A second line popped up:

Hello, Kieran "Kei" Beckett!

Kei clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a gasp. This System, whatever it was, knew his name. And more strikingly, it seemed cheerful—there was a tiny pixel-art style smiling face next to the greeting, winking at him. He stared, slack-jawed, as a new line of text wrote itself with almost playful flourish:

We're so happy you decided to wake up and join us!

Kei almost let out a strangled laugh at the quip. Was the System... teasing him for sleeping? He glanced again at Marna—still no sign she heard anything. The text was silent, seemingly projected straight into his vision. With a deep breath, Kei settled back against the chair, trying to look casual in case Marna glanced over. His heart hammered with excitement. This was clearly something like a video game interface, and presumably it came with him because of this reincarnation.

The text continued, lines appearing as if someone was typing on an invisible keyboard very quickly:

"The Crafting and Life System (CLS) is here to help you become the best artisan (and person!) you can be. We provide skill tracking, quests, and rewards to guide your journey. It's like having a personal life coach, except with more sparks and numbers!"

Kei's lips twitched in amusement. A life coach, huh? He decided to test something: Could he interact with it by speaking in his mind, or would he have to talk aloud? He tried forming a thought deliberately at the System. Open status?

To his delight, the tutorial vanished and was replaced with a semi-transparent panel listing various stats:

Name: Kieran "Kei" Beckett Age: 20 Class: Artisan (Novice) Titles: None Basic Attributes: Strength: 8 (average) Agility: 10 (average) Endurance: 9 (average) Charm: 12 (above average) Empathy: 14 (above average) Luck: 20 (outlier!) Crafting Skills: Woodworking: Level 1 (Novice) Metalworking: Level 0 (Untrained) Enchanting: Level 0 (Untrained) Sewing: Level 0 (Untrained) ... Life Skills: Communication: Level 1 (Awkward Newcomer) Cooking: Level 0 (Basic) Survival: Level 0 (N/A) ... 

Kei's eyebrows shot up. There was a lot of information, and some of it made him want to sputter defensively—"Awkward Newcomer" for communication skill? That felt like a gentle jab. Charm 12, Empathy 14... he wasn't sure what the scale was, but if 10 was average, those were slightly higher. Luck 20 stood out especially. Was that good? It sounded high. Maybe it explained how he'd gotten a new life at all.

He scanned "Crafting Skills" eagerly and saw Woodworking at level 1. That made sense; he'd done some carpentry on Earth, though self-taught. Everything else was zero. On a whim, he mentally selected "Woodworking" for more info. A smaller popup appeared:

Woodworking: Novice level proficiency at shaping and joining wood. You can craft simple items and use basic tools without injury… most of the time.

He almost rolled his eyes. Without injury, most of the time? Hey, I only nailed my thumb once or twice, he thought indignantly. The System didn't respond to thoughts that weren't commands, it seemed.

Marna's voice drifted over from the kitchen, singing an old folk tune as she worked. Kei realized he had to wrap this up before she noticed him staring into space. He hurriedly closed the status screen. The tutorial might have more to say, but hopefully it would wait.

No sooner had that thought occurred than a new pop-up appeared, this time emblazoned with a bold header that read Quest.

Kei focused on the text:

Quest: Impress a Female – Compliment someone sincerely.

Reward: 50 XP, Minor Crafting Skill Boost (if successful).

Hint: A little charm goes a long way!

He blinked. That... wasn't what he expected at all. He had anticipated something like Gather materials or Craft a simple tool. Instead, the System seemed to be pushing a social objective at him right off the bat.

Kei read the quest twice, certain he must have misinterpreted. Compliment someone sincerely? Impress a female? He felt the color creeping back up his neck. Was this for real? Why on earth would a Crafting and Life System care about him impressing women?

"This has to be a mistake," he thought. "Um... System? Are there crafting quests instead?" he whispered under his breath, too low for Marna to hear.

The quest window remained, cheerfully blinking as if awaiting completion. No alternative quest appeared. Instead, the italic comment text under the quest description changed briefly to: Don't be shy—kind words make the world brighter!

If a floating interface could look overly pleased with itself, this one did. Kei swore he could almost sense a playful nudge coming from it.

He groaned internally. Great, I have a dating sim HUD stuck in my eyeballs. Outwardly he maintained an innocent face, though one eyelid twitched with annoyance. Was this some cosmic joke? He had hoped for guidance in surviving and honing his craft, not advice on how to flirt! He had never even had a proper date back on Earth; he'd been too shy and too absorbed in his hobbies to try. The idea of a magical system pushing him towards romance or social interactions was mortifying.

Determined to ignore this absurd "quest," Kei concentrated and mentally pressed an "X" in the corner of the quest window. The System UI obediently minimized, the text shrinking into a small glowing icon at the periphery of his vision, like a notification he could recall later. Just before it vanished entirely, he caught a glimpse of an animated emoticon face with puffed cheeks—almost as if the System was pouting at him for closing it. He might have imagined that detail, but it made him chuckle under his breath despite everything.

"Kei? You alright over there?" Marna called, noticing his little laugh.

Kei startled. He'd been so engrossed in the System that he nearly forgot his surroundings. Clearing his throat, he turned to see Marna peering at him with mild concern (and a spot of flour on her cheek). "Yes! Yes, I'm fine," he said quickly. "Just... thinking of something funny."

Marna smiled and wiped her hands on her apron. "Well, I'm glad to see you in good spirits. It's been quite a day for you." She hung up her apron on a peg. Outside, dusk was gathering. The windowpanes reflected the cozy glow of the hearth now. "Why don't you wash up and rest. Tomorrow we can talk more about what you want to do next. You'll have clearer thoughts after a good night's sleep, I expect."

Kei was about to protest that he'd napped enough by the fire, but a yawn crept up on him, belying his fatigue. "That sounds good," he admitted.

He took the chance to splash his face at the washbasin, marveling quietly at how the water pitcher automatically refilled itself with a minor cooling enchantment—a marvel he'd ask Marna about later. Within a half hour, Kei found himself alone in the small spare room, a single candle flickering on the bedside table. Marna had fussed one last time, bringing him extra blankets ("just in case dear, nights can be chilly") and a cup of warm milk with honey to help him sleep. Truly, if this was a dream, it was the most tender one he'd ever had.

Kei settled under the quilt and let out a long breath. The events of the day replayed in his mind—the impossible new world he'd been thrust into, the heartwarming welcome of Marna and the villagers, the overwhelming attention... and of course, the revelation that he had a System interface trying to prod him into charming the ladies. He rubbed his eyes, which ached with exhaustion.

Instead, he allowed his thoughts to drift back to Earth for the first time since arriving. Back home, he'd lived quietly—a young man out of college, working as an apprentice in a furniture workshop by day and tinkering with personal craft projects by night. He'd loved making things since childhood: carving model planes with his grandfather, soldering together a radio in high school, teaching himself to code small gadgets. But that passion for things had never extended gracefully to passion for people. He'd been too timid to ask his high school crush to prom, too busy with his woodshop to hang out at bars or clubs in college. And now... ironically, he'd ended up in a place where women practically lined up to meet him, and he had no idea how to handle it.

Kei sighed and rolled onto his side, burrowing into the pillow. Through the tiny window, he could see a swath of unfamiliar stars and the silhouette of rooftops. Somewhere out there, the villagers were likely still chattering about the day's excitement. He covered his face with the pillow, groaning softly. It was all so ridiculous... but at least it was pleasantly ridiculous, nothing horrific or dangerous so far.

In fact, under the embarrassment and confusion, he felt something warm: hope. This world might be strange, but it was also wondrous. Magic and medieval charm coexisted with what seemed like modern comfort. There were guilds for artisans—Marna had briefly mentioned an academy in the city. His heart quickened at that memory. He could learn new crafts here, maybe even more than he ever could on Earth. If the System truly had a crafting focus at its core, that could be an invaluable tool. He could become an artisan of legend if he played his cards right. That thought carried a thrill.

But one step at a time. First, he needed to integrate into society without causing a riot. And that started with learning the customs and rules of this matriarchal culture. Tomorrow, he'd pry more information out of Marna about how things worked, what was expected of men, and how he might get involved in crafting professionally. Perhaps she could help him make connections—she did mention a friend in the city guild.

As sleep finally crept up on him, Kei made one last resolution in the quiet of his mind: Thank you for this chance, he directed the thought to no one in particular, perhaps to fate or whatever cosmic power gave him this new life. I'll try my best to deserve it.

The faint chiming of the System responded with a single line of text blinking briefly in the darkness:

Zzz...

Did it just depict itself sleeping? Kei's final drowsy chuckle carried him off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Chapter 2: Learning the Ropes of a Matriarchy

Sunlight and the crowing of a distant rooster woke Kei at dawn. He sat up in the little bed, momentarily disoriented by the low wood-beam ceiling and the patchwork quilt sliding off him. Then reality—and amazement—flooded back. I'm still here. The previous day hadn't been a bizarre dream. The proof lay in the soft yellow flower in a cup on the sill and the faint hum of Marna's activity in the kitchen beyond the closed door.

Kei dressed in the simple linen shirt and trousers Marna had lent him (hers, modified from an old outfit of a nephew or a friend perhaps—they fit decently enough). Taking a moment to smooth his hair with his fingers, he glanced at a small mirror hanging on the wall. A young man with tousled black hair and dark eyes gazed back. He looked the same as he remembered from Earth—perhaps a bit healthier, with more color in his cheeks than the pallor he'd had after endless late nights. He didn't think himself particularly handsome, but he supposed he didn't have any glaring flaws either. If only the girls back home had thought I was worth a second look… he mused. Here, he'd already been called "cute" and "handsome" more in one day than in his entire life previously. It was hard to trust those compliments; they might stem more from rarity than merit.

The smells of breakfast drew him out to the kitchen. Marna was by the stove (an iron stove with subtle runic designs along its sides—Kei noted those with interest, guessing at a fire enchantment), flipping what looked like pancakes on a griddle. A pot of chicory coffee steamed next to her. She turned and smiled brightly when she saw Kei.

"Good morning, sunshine. Sleep well?"

"Like a log," Kei admitted, taking a seat at the table. He truly hadn't slept so deeply in ages. "Can I help with anything?"

"Just sit and eat," Marna chided gently. She slid a plate of golden-brown pancakes before him, already slathered in butter and berry jam. "We've got berryflap jacks this morning—special treat, since it's not every day we have a guest."

Kei's stomach rumbled appreciatively, which made Marna beam. He decided not to argue about being served and instead picked up his fork obediently. "Thank you. It looks amazing." The first bite was heaven—sweet and slightly tangy with jam, fluffy in texture, the butter melting over his tongue. He couldn't suppress a happy sigh.

Marna chuckled. "I'll take that as a compliment to the chef."

He nodded vigorously, swallowing. "Absolutely. Back home—" he paused. Well, Earth was back home, or was it? He realized he might have to be careful how he referenced his past. "I mean, I rarely cooked anything this good for myself." That at least was true. His diet in the old world had been mostly instant noodles and takeout when he was busy.

"You'll have to learn a few recipes while you're here," Marna said. "Most men leave the cooking to women, of course, but if it interests you, nothing wrong with knowing how. Cooking is its own craft."

"I'd like that," Kei said. It struck him that many men here might be discouraged from doing even basic tasks like cooking, which he found a bit silly. Then again, Earth had its own outdated gender norms; this was just flipped.

They ate companionably for a few minutes. Between bites, Kei decided to ask some of the questions that had been piling up. "Marna, you mentioned yesterday that the world has so few men. I was wondering... do people know why? Is it magic, or something in the environment?"

Marna dabbed her mouth with a napkin, considering. "There are theories. Some say it's a curse from an old war, others think it's just nature's way here. The gods didn't see fit to explain it to us." She shrugged. "But society has adapted. The queendom—our nation—is matriarchal by necessity. We have a Queen and all her ministers are women. Inheritance usually goes mother-to-daughter. Military, law, craft guilds, everything run by women mostly. Men aren't barred, per se, but there's an unspoken rule that our fellows are to be cared for, not put in harm's way or in positions of stress." She gave an apologetic half-smile. "Old habits. Even when a man wants to be a soldier or a scholar, he'll face a lot of fuss."

Kei processed that, slicing another piece of pancake thoughtfully. "So… men aren't forced to do or not do certain jobs, but everyone would rather they just relax and stay safe? Like being overprotective of them as a cultural norm."

"Exactly. A man lifting a hammer in public is as startling to folks as, oh, a lady of Earth in the 1800s wearing trousers might have been to her society. It's just... not expected." Marna chuckled. "I'm sure you saw how quickly a crowd gathered just from you fixing a fence."

Kei flushed slightly. "I did. That was… unexpected." He had to admit, being admired for something so mundane had been surreal.

Marna reached over and refilled his water cup. "Now, I wouldn't blame you if you took advantage of a pampered life, but something tells me that's not your style." She raised an eyebrow, recalling how he'd fixed her fence without a second thought.

Kei quickly shook his head. "I couldn't just sit idle while everyone else works. I want to pull my own weight. I need to, honestly—I've always liked working with my hands. If I'm going to stay here a while... or longer... I want to contribute, not be a burden." The earnestness in his voice was plain.

Marna broke into a wide smile. "You are a sweet one, aren't you? Humble as anything." She shook her head in wonder. "Very well, Kei. We'll strike a balance. I won't stop you from working if it makes you happy." Then she added with a conspiratorial wink, "But do humor the busybodies if they fuss, alright? Let them bring you lemonade, at least. It makes them feel useful to spoil you a bit."

Kei chuckled. "Deal."

Thus settled, the morning continued more peacefully. Marna allowed Kei to assist with some minor chores after breakfast, though she kept trying to shoo him off to "relax." He insisted on helping wash the dishes, eventually winning that gentle tug-of-war by promising to dry thoroughly and not catch a chill from the water. Marna watched him with an amused smirk as he carefully wiped each plate. "If word gets out I had a man doing kitchen work, the neighbors will think I put a spell on you," she joked.

Kei blushed but continued to help rinse the bowl in the sink basin. He noticed the water came out of a spout carved with glowing runes, activated by a quick tap from Marna—a little surge of aqua-colored light and voila, running water. His crafter's curiosity stirred, but he held his questions for now, focusing instead on the immediate matter at hand. "So... if I fix things or build things around here, it'll cause a commotion?" he asked wryly as he set a cleaned dish aside.

Marna shrugged, handing him a soft towel to wipe his hands. "At first, maybe. They'll get used to you in time. It's just initial excitement. But I'll admit, men typically aren't expected to do labor. It's not forbidden or anything, just uncommon. Many communities think of it as caring for the men—why make you do hard work when there are so many able women? It's a chivalry of sorts, reversed from the old tales where men waited on gentlewomen. Here we wait on you." She smiled, though Kei sensed a hint of something thoughtful in her tone, as if she didn't entirely agree with coddling men, even if it was tradition.

Kei appreciated that sentiment. "I understand the reasoning. And I appreciate the thought," he said carefully, "but I'd prefer to do things for myself, at least as much as I can. And to help others, too. It's how I've always lived. I… I wouldn't feel right lounging around while you fixed every fence and cooked every meal." He hoped he wasn't coming off as ungrateful.

Fiona — oh, not Fiona, (Kei had momentarily thought of an imaginary friend from youth; in truth he had none) — Correction: Marna studied him for a moment, then her expression softened into pure affection. "You truly are an unusual young man," she said quietly. "Eager to help and to craft, even when given a chance to take it easy. The world could use more like you, Kei."

Before he could get too flustered by that praise, she clapped her hands lightly. "Speaking of crafting, since you're clearly itching for it—how about a little task? My back fence has a loose board from the storm last week. Would you do me the honor of fixing it?"

Kei brightened. "Of course!"

Marna laughed. "You remind me so much of Jonah. He used to beg for chores to do too."

So Kei spent the next hour happily repairing the fence in Marna's backyard. He found her toolbox easily (neatly organized, naturally) and set to work with a hammer and some nails. At first Marna hovered anxiously, but as Kei competently removed the broken board and measured a replacement from spare lumber, she relaxed. Word, however, must have gotten out—by the time Kei finished hammering in the final nail, a small audience of village women had gathered just beyond the fence.

They applauded as the last nail went in, startling Kei. He turned around to see half a dozen women from nearby houses watching with open admiration. One even had her hands clasped like she was at a theatre performance.

Kei's face went scarlet. "Oh, uh... it's fixed," he announced lamely, lowering the hammer.

"You're so strong!" one of the younger women called, which only made Kei more embarrassed—he had done nothing requiring particular strength.

Another older woman shook her head with a teasing smile. "Haven't seen a man wield a hammer in decades. What a treat."

A grandmotherly figure tutted and stepped forward, swatting at the others. "Leave the boy be, you geese. You'll make him self-conscious. Off with you now!" Then, to Kei, her demeanor flipped into doting concern. "Here, my dear, have some lemonade." She held up a tray with a tall, sweating glass of sweet lemonade and some butter cookies, which she had apparently brought out from her kitchen for him.

Kei was too polite to refuse. Blushing, he accepted the glass. "Thank you, ma'am," he said softly.

The grandmotherly woman beamed. "You're very welcome. You did a fine job there, just don't overwork yourself!"

By the time the impromptu fence-fixing fan club dispersed (with some good-natured scolding from Marna to "let him breathe!"), Kei was equal parts amused and flustered. He sipped the lemonade—which was delicious, tangy and cold—and muttered to Marna, "All I did was hammer a board, and they acted like I built a house."

Marna rolled her eyes affectionately. "I warned you. They've never seen it. To them it is like you built a house." She couldn't hide a proud little smile though, as if she were delighted by how much everyone adored him. "Come on, fence-mender. Let's get you washed up."

They returned to Marna's workshop, which adjoined the house. It was a cozy space smelling of sawdust and varnish. Sunlight fell through a small window onto a workbench strewn with carving tools and half-finished projects—a carved chair leg here, an embroidered cushion there. Kei felt immediately at home.

While Marna tidied some tools, Kei's attention fell on a beautifully carved wooden chair by the wall. Its back was shaped into an elegant swirl of vines and blossoms, all one piece with no joints visible. He ran a hand over the smooth finish, admiring the craftsmanship. "Marna, did you make this? It's incredible."

Marna looked over and smiled modestly. "I did, yes. It's a hobby project. I'm glad you like it."

"Like it? The detailing is so fine... I've never seen something so well-crafted," Kei said earnestly, tracing a carved rose with his fingertip. His admiration was genuine and evident in his voice.

Before Marna could respond, a sudden chime rang in Kei's ears and a bright flash of text appeared in his vision:

Quest Complete!

Kei nearly jumped out of his skin, spinning around as if he might spot the System floating behind him. Of course, no one was there. The text overlaid itself across his view, invisible to others:

Compliment delivered sincerely.

Reward: Crafting XP +50, Title Earned: "Friendly Boy."

Simultaneously, Kei felt a small surge of warmth in his core, as if he'd sipped a hot cup of tea. He also heard a faint ping like a videogame leveling up. He quickly blinked twice to dismiss the notification before Marna noticed his distraction.

His heart was racing from the surprise. That counted? he realized in disbelief. He had genuinely complimented Marna's work—because it was amazing—and that apparently fulfilled the System's "Impress a Female" quest. The System took his innocent admiration of craftsmanship as a success and even gave him a ridiculous title for it.

"What's wrong, dear?" Marna asked, noticing his wide eyes.

Kei fumbled for an explanation. "Oh—uh—I almost dropped... this." He picked up a plank of wood off the bench and waved it awkwardly. "But I caught it. All good!"

Marna raised an eyebrow at his flustered demeanor, but let it go with a shrug.

Kei internally heaved a sigh of relief. That was too close. The System needed to tone down these surprise pop-ups when he wasn't alone.

No sooner had he thought that, the interface flickered back into view with a new quest:

Quest: Socialize – Spend time alone with a female (Reward: +Charm).

Kei stared flatly at the glowing words. You've got to be kidding. He all but squinted at the System icon, which had a little winking face next to the quest description. The System was clearly doubling down on this dating-sim nonsense.

He internally protested that this gamified matchmaking was not what he wanted. Kei pointedly ignored the new quest, focusing instead on learning about local crafting techniques from Marna as they continued working in the shop. Still, he couldn't help but feel the System hovering in the back of his mind like a nosy friend trying to push him into a social life.

This comedic interplay of System nudges versus Kei's crafting passion continued throughout the day. Kei remained determined to stick to crafting tasks and practical matters, while the System seemed just as determined to slip in romantic or social "objectives" for him.

Marna, noticing Kei's genuine interest in all her tools and projects, began explaining the artisan guild system in this world as they worked. There were guilds for various crafts: smithing, woodwork, textiles, enchanting, and more. Artisans enjoyed high status in society, she said—partly because their skills were valued, and partly because collaboration between artisans and mages drove much of their technological progress.

Kei listened, rapt. He helped Marna sand a tabletop as she talked, absorbing every detail. When she mentioned an academy in the nearest city that trained young artisans, his ears perked up. "An academy? Like a school for crafts?" he asked, a note of longing in his voice he didn't bother to hide.

Marna smiled at his excitement. "Yes, in Anderun City—the capital of our region. The Artisan Guild Hall there runs an academy program for apprentices. It's quite prestigious. They have workshops for all the major crafts and even courses on magical engineering."

Kei's pulse quickened. A formal guild academy! The idea conjured images of grand forges and libraries of design, skilled craftswomen and perhaps a few men learning side by side. "And... and anyone can join?" he asked hopefully. "I mean, would they allow, uh, me?" He gestured to himself vaguely. He still wasn't sure if being a man would be a help or hindrance in that setting.

Marna chuckled. "Oh, they'll allow you alright. Honestly, any guild in the city would trip over themselves to have a male apprentice on their roster. Even if you knew nothing, they'd probably accept you just for the prestige." She rolled her eyes slightly. "A bit silly, really. But it's believed to be good luck to have a man in your workshop—customers take it as a sign of the Goddess's favor."

Kei was taken aback. "Seriously? Just by being there I'd bring luck?"

"So they say. Old superstition, but people do notice that shops with a man tend to get very popular. Personally, I think it's just because everyone is curious and comes by to peek at the man, and while they're there, they buy things," Marna said wryly. "So yes, a guild would sponsor you in a heartbeat. In fact, they might fight over you like hens over a juicy berry."

The image of guild masters tugging at his arms competing to recruit him made Kei nearly spit his drink. He coughed, laughing. "That's… I can't even imagine that. I haven't done anything yet."

"You exist. That's enough for them," Marna said with a mix of amusement and reassurance. It was clear she found the whole thing a bit ridiculous too. "Now, I know you—you'd want to earn your place through skill. And I believe you will. But we have to accept reality too: your presence is a commodity as well as a blessing. Best to use it smartly."

She waved a hand. "Oh pish. Helping you gives me an excuse to visit my old friend Helena in the city. She's the Guild Master at the Artisan Hall, you know." Marna's eyes twinkled. "We trained together in our youth. If anyone can set you up properly, it'll be her. I'll write her a letter of introduction—though I suspect just arriving with you in tow will be introduction enough!"

Kei felt relief and excitement flood through him. It was all lining up so well—almost too well. Was it the System's doing? Perhaps his high "Luck" stat at work. He was grateful nonetheless.

He did wonder about the System's quest, still hanging unmet in his peripheral vision ("Spend time alone with a female"). But he shoved that thought aside. There was far more interesting business to attend to: preparing for a journey to Anderun City.

Speaking of the System... now that he had some quiet moments as the afternoon waned, Kei risked peeking at it again. He wanted to see if his Crafting stats had updated from the fence repair and workshop help.

Sure enough, when he mentally opened the interface, a little + sign blinked next to Woodworking – Level 1. It expanded to show he'd gained a small amount of experience in that skill from today's tasks. Nice.

Less nice was the persistent quest notification, now pulsing gently: Spend time alone with a female – 0% complete. Kei rolled his eyes. He decided to ignore it unless an opportunity arose naturally. He wasn't going out of his way to fulfill a dating sim objective.

Instead, he mentally navigated to settings to see if he could silence quest pop-ups. The System responded by cheekily shifting the quest icon to an even more noticeable spot in his HUD, as if stubborn. Kei closed the interface with a huff.

As twilight approached, Marna prepared a light supper for them: a hearty vegetable soup and the remaining bread. They ate companionably by lamplight, the atmosphere serene after the day's excitement. Kei found himself growing more comfortable by the hour in Marna's presence. She truly treated him like family already, and he felt a warm affection for the maternal craftswoman in return.

Before they turned in for the night, Kei quietly approached Marna, who was tidying up the living area. He hesitated, then said, "Marna? I just wanted to say... thank you. For everything. You saved my life, essentially, and you barely know me."

Marna reached over and gave his shoulder a squeeze. "I know enough," she replied kindly. "And you're most welcome. Having you here these past two days—well, it's been a blessing for me too. Not often I have company for tea." She smiled, a little wistful. "It's almost what I imagine having a son would be like... or a nephew at least. Fussing included, eh?"

Kei looked down, blinking away a sudden prickling in his eyes. "I... I never really had family like this. So it means a lot to me. More than I can say."

Marna's eyes softened. She gently pulled him into a side hug. "You have one now, Kei. Consider me your Auntie Marna from here on out."

He chuckled, cheeks a bit red, but nodded. "I'd like that."

They sat like that a moment longer, Marna patting his back comfortingly. Kei felt a swell of warmth and belonging. It amazed him that in mere days he had found someone who treated him with such care. His old life felt very far away in that moment.

Soon after, Marna retired for the night, knowing they had to rise early for their journey. Kei went to his room but found himself too restless to sleep immediately. He opened the window, letting the cool night air in, and gazed at the two moons hanging in the sky (an enthralling sight—two pale orbs, one large and one smaller, trailing each other).

He tried to imagine what Anderun City would be like. More people, more crafts, more technology. And surely, even more attention on him, especially if word was already spreading of his existence. It was daunting. But he had resolved to do this, and he wouldn't back down. Focus on why you're there: to craft, to learn, he reminded himself. Not to become some idle trophy. The System's insistence on social quests notwithstanding, Kei was determined to steer his own course.

Eventually, he slipped into bed and fell asleep to the distant hoot of an owl, clutching the little wooden sparrow charm Marna had given him in his hand for comfort.

Chapter 3: Journey to Anderun City

The next morning dawned bright and clear. Kei found himself sitting atop a sturdy wooden wagon as it rolled out of Rosewallow's main gate, the village gradually receding behind. Beside him on the driver's bench was a middle-aged woman holding the reins (though the horse was less pulling and more guiding—the wagon itself was partially levitated by an ingenious device). Marna sat just behind them on a stack of crates, and around the wagon strode a small company of women: two guards with spears, a couple of younger merchants, and even Bethel, the spry grandmother from the day before, hitching a ride to see her sister in the city (or so she claimed, though Kei suspected the chance to watch over him was a deciding factor for her).

They had set out at first light amid a small local fanfare—half the village turned up to see them off. Kei had been utterly overwhelmed when a line of villagers, mostly women and children, came up to bid him safe travels, each pressing little gifts into his hands: a knitted scarf, bundles of homemade trail snacks, a small jar of salve "in case you get hurt," and more. By the time he climbed onto the wagon, he was practically swaddled in well-wishes and parcels. Marna had chuckled while helping him stow the excess gifts.

Now, as the wagon gently swayed along the country road, Kei tried to relax and enjoy the scenery. It was hard, given that he was acutely aware of being the sole male among ten or so female companions—and that all of them kept glancing his way as if to confirm he was still there and not a figment of their imagination.

The sun had fully risen, casting a golden sheen on the rolling fields and woods that stretched out around them. Birds flitted across the sky, and occasionally something more fantastical—a burst of tiny winged sprites would rise from wildflower patches, like fluttering motes of light (Kei gaped at the first such sight until Marna explained they were harmless pixies that pollinated the crops).

"This world is beautiful," Kei said aloud without thinking. The driver, a taciturn woman named Fara, turned to him with a grin.

"Aye, that it is. Especially today—fine weather for travel, thanks to you, lad."

Kei blinked. "Thanks to me? I don't control the weather."

Fara chuckled. "No, but a lucky charm on board never hurts." She winked, and Kei realized she was teasing him a bit with the superstition. It was hard to tell if they really believed he brought good fortune or just liked to joke about it.

Behind him, one of the guards—a tall woman named Brenna—laughed. "He's modest too! Saints, could you be any more of a fairy-tale prince, Kei?"

Kei turned halfway around on the bench to protest, but words failed him. The women around grinned at him, clearly in good spirits. They weren't mocking him in a mean way; rather, they seemed to be indulging in the fun of his reactions. It was almost like how guys back on Earth might rib a friend—except here the "ribbing" took the form of compliments that left him flustered.

Resigned to good-natured banter, Kei just smiled and shook his head, letting them have their laugh. "Just an ordinary person, I promise."

"Sure, ordinary," Lina—the younger guard about his age—said with a smirk from the other side of the wagon. "It's totally ordinary for a caravan to triple in size just to make sure one guy reaches the city intact."

Kei had to smile at that. She wasn't wrong. What had been a simple merchant wagon became quite the entourage after people volunteered. Even the beast pulling the wagon wasn't a typical horse. "Bessie," as Fara called her, was a broad, ox-like creature with short ivory horns. She trod with surprising lightness, her hooves barely touching the road, clearly aided by the same levitation magic on the wagon.

His gaze drifted to the mechanism at the wagon's center. Instead of a traditional axle, there was a thick wooden disk inscribed with glowing symbols, and four small crystal orbs embedded at cardinal points underneath. The whole wagon bed floated slightly, the wooden wheels just barely skimming the road as a backup. It was as if the wagon was half-buoyant on an invisible cushion of magic.

Kei couldn't contain his curiosity. "Excuse me, Fara, how exactly does this wagon float? Is it those runes on that disk?" he asked, leaning forward a bit to see under the bench.

Fara brightened at his interest. "Got it in one. That's a levitation array, courtesy of our local enchanter. Reduces the weight on the wheels, makes for a smoother ride and less burden on ol' Bessie here." She patted the flank of the creature pulling them.

Marna chimed in from behind, seeing Kei's fascination. "Basically, artisans like me build the wagon, then an enchanter carves the rune array and sets in the crystals. Together we make something neither of us could do alone."

"That's incredible," Kei said, and he meant it. This was precisely the kind of magical-meets-practical technology that set his crafter soul alight. He leaned to look closer at the runes. "If I may?" he asked Fara, who nodded, slowing Bessie a bit so Kei could safely hop down from the bench to walk alongside for a moment.

He crouched to examine the central disk as they moved slowly. The runes were intricate, interlocking in a circular pattern. He recognized some alchemical symbols from books he'd read back home, and others looked like perhaps elemental signs. The crystals glowed faintly blue.

Lina, walking guard on that side, laughed softly. "I've never seen anyone get so excited over a hunk of wood and some scribbles."

Kei looked up at her, grinning despite himself. "It's not just scribbles—this is art meets engineering combined. I've built things with my hands, but adding magic to the mix... it opens up so many possibilities." He couldn't hide the excitement in his voice. The thought of combining engineering and enchantment made his mind whirl with ideas.

Lina's eyes sparkled with interest at his enthusiasm. "You talk like someone who really loves this stuff."

"I do," he admitted freely. It was easy to forget his self-consciousness when talking about crafts. "Back on Earth—I mean, back home—I'd spend hours in my workshop making gadgets or furniture. This world has things I only dreamed of. Floating wagons! Magical lanterns!" He realized he might be babbling and shut his mouth, embarrassed. "Sorry, I uh... I get carried away."

To his relief, Lina looked more charmed than anything. "No need to apologize. It's nice hearing you talk animatedly." She added with a teasing lilt, "Usually all we get from you are polite one-liners and blushing silence."

"Hey—" Kei began a protest, but ended up laughing at himself. "Fair point. I'm not great at talking."

"You're doing fine with me," Lina said, giving him a friendly elbow poke as they walked alongside the trundling wagon. "Maybe because the topic isn't you for once, huh?"

Kei scratched his cheek, thinking that was likely true. Focus on crafts or anything technical and he was comfortable; focus on him and he shriveled up. Before he could respond, there came a playful shout from ahead.

"Oi, which one of us gets the honor of sitting with our esteemed guest next?" hollered Brenna from the front, smirking back at Lina. It seemed Lina's impromptu conversation had not gone unnoticed by the rest of the escort.

Lina flushed slightly. "Keep your eyes on the road, Bren!" she shot back, clearly trying to play it cool.

Brenna just laughed and called to Fara, "Driver, I formally request a seat up there on the next leg, on protection duty of course."

Fara rolled her eyes. "You two can trade off at midday. Honestly, acting like schoolgirls," she muttered, though her tone was fond.

Kei, feeling secondhand embarrassment for Lina (and himself, being the subject of this tug-of-war), quickly climbed back onto the bench to avoid being literally in the middle of it. As he settled, Marna caught his eye from the wagon bed and gave a little shake of her head as if to say see what I mean? He responded with a helpless grin.

Despite the teasing, he found the camaraderie of the group comforting. They were treating him somewhat like a younger brother or a novelty friend, not just a distant idol to worship. The initial awe had eased into a friendlier atmosphere where they could joke around a bit. This was easier for Kei to handle—though some jokes still made him blush, at least it wasn't all stiff reverence.

The caravan continued through the morning, passing meadows and clusters of trees. The road occasionally wound by farmsteads, where field hands (all women, of course) would pause mid-swing of a scythe or hoe to gape at the passing wagon once they spotted Kei. A few even jogged up to offer blessings for a safe journey or tiny gifts (fresh apples, a posy of wildflowers). By late morning, Kei had a small collection of such tokens piling up at his feet on the wagon—despite his protests that it wasn't necessary. Marna and Fara just exchanged knowing looks and helped accept the gifts graciously on his behalf.

True to plan, around midday they pulled over by a clear babbling brook to water Bessie and have a bite to eat. Lina and Brenna swapped positions at that point, Brenna gleefully clambering up to sit beside Kei for the next stretch while Lina walked perimeter.

Kei was a bit nervous about Brenna—she had a mischievous streak and he half expected more relentless teasing. But as the journey resumed, Brenna mostly regaled him with funny guard duty anecdotes rather than flirting. She told a story of how she once had to chase off a flock of thieving pixies from a honey cart, ending up with sticky honey in her hair for a week. Kei laughed along, appreciating that she was treating him like a friend to swap tales with, not a fragile thing to coddle.

The afternoon wore on, the road winding through denser woods. Shafts of sunlight speared through the canopy, and wildflowers lined the path. Kei gazed around in wonder. He'd never traveled much even on Earth, and certainly never in such an idyllic manner. The occasional squirrel-like creature with feathered ears would dash across the road, and in the distance, he even spotted what looked like a deer with two sets of antlers bound in flowering vines. If not for his companions, he'd have wanted to wander off the road to examine some of the glowing mushrooms he glimpsed on rotting logs or to watch the strange deer-like being from closer. But he contented himself with quietly marveling.

"Do we have to worry about bandits or monsters?" Kei asked at one point as the shadows lengthened under the trees. It was something that had been niggling at him—stories and games taught him that roads could be perilous.

Fara answered from the front, "Bandits rarely bother larger groups on the Queen's roads, especially in this region. And monsters aren't common this close to the capital."

Marna added, "The rangers patrol these parts well." She hesitated, then continued, "However... it's said that if bandits or rogue sorcerers ever do strike, they target men first."

Kei felt a chill at that. He hadn't considered that being male could attract danger beyond social fussing. "Target men? Why?"

"Various reasons, none pleasant," said the caravan leader—a burly huntress who'd introduced herself simply as Sorcha. She was walking beside Bessie now, within earshot. "A rare young man like yourself? To bandits you might fetch a hefty ransom if some fool would pay for you, or gods forbid they might try to sell you overseas." She spat to the side, clearly disgusted by the notion. "Not that we'll ever let that happen."

Kei swallowed, instinctively scooting a little closer to the center of the bench. He suddenly felt far less safe than when he'd been just a curiosity. The idea that someone might actually want to capture him because he was a man was alarming.

Sorcha looked up at him, her face softening. She reached up and gave his knee a friendly pat (since that was all she could reach from the ground). "Don't worry, love. They'd have to get past us first." She flashed a wolfish grin and added with a wink, "And trust me, they won't."

The wink was delivered with such confident flair that it flustered Kei more than the talk of bandits. His cheeks warmed as he offered a meek smile. "R-right. Thank you."

A chorus of affirmations came from the others. "We've got our spears and spells; no one's touching our precious cargo," Brenna declared, half serious, half jest.

Precious cargo, Kei thought, shaking his head. It was odd being seen as both a person and a prized package to protect. But the genuine care in their voices reassured him somewhat. He realized these women—some practically strangers—truly did feel an obligation to keep him safe. That mix of gallantry and doting attention was something he might never fully get used to, but it was better than apathy or hostility, certainly.

That evening, they made camp just off the road in a grassy clearing sheltered by oak trees. Anderun City was not far now—Sorcha said by dawn they'd see its outskirts. But they decided to stop for the night rather than arrive after dark.

Kei helped gather firewood (over minor protests) and soon they had a cozy fire crackling. The women set up a rotation for keeping watch at night; despite the low risk, they were taking no chances with a man in their midst. Kei felt a bit guilty that others were losing sleep on his account, but they insisted it was routine.

Around the campfire, they shared a simple dinner of roasted root vegetables and cured pork from Marna's provisions. Laughter and chatter filled the air. Kei mostly listened, chiming in quietly if addressed, but content to soak in the stories of caravan life and guild gossip from the others.

As the stars emerged and one of the guards began softly plucking a lute (to everyone's surprise and delight, Brenna could play a little), the System made its move again. Kei, who had been relaxing against a log, poking the fire with a stick absentmindedly, suddenly saw a familiar translucent icon bob into view.

He tensed, glancing around. Everyone else was either engrossed in the music or winding down for bed. This might be his best chance for some privacy to handle whatever the System wanted.

He focused on the icon. Sure enough, a quest message expanded:

Quest: A Chance Encounter – Initiate conversation with a girl about her life (Reward: +1 Empathy).

Hint: Sometimes the best way to understand someone is to ask!

Kei almost laughed through his nose. The System wasn't subtle—it clearly still aimed to push him into socializing. But unlike the vaguely date-like quest of "spend time alone with a female," this one was simply to chat with someone about her life. That… he could do. In fact, he found himself curious about his companions.

He had been on the receiving end of everyone's attention, but he knew so little about them in return. Perhaps this quest was actually nudging him towards something worthwhile: building genuine connections, not just fending off admirers.

Kei cast a discreet eye around the camp. Most of the women were busy—Fara and Sorcha were quietly discussing tomorrow's route, Brenna was playing her lute, a couple others were tending to Bessie or already dozing.

Lina, however, was sitting a short distance away by the fire's edge, oiling her spear tip and humming the tune Brenna played. She looked relaxed, bathed in the warm glow of the flames, her short auburn hair tucked behind her ears as she concentrated on her task.

If he was going to strike up a conversation with someone about her life, Lina seemed approachable. She'd been kind to him and closer to his age, and they'd already chatted a bit about crafts earlier. Kei took a breath, steeling himself. Alright, System, I'll play along this once. He might as well get to know his travel companions better, quest or not.

He scooted up and moved over to sit on a rock next to Lina. "Mind if I join you?" he asked softly.

Lina looked up, a bit surprised, then smiled. "Not at all. I was just finishing up here." She set her spear aside, satisfied with its sharpened point, and gave him her full attention. "What's up?"

Kei fiddled with a stray blade of grass. He felt oddly nervous—this was the first one-on-one conversation he'd initiated in this world without being prompted by someone else. "I realized... I've talked so much about myself, or rather everyone's been talking about me, since I got here. But I hardly know anything about any of you." He offered a sheepish smile. "Feels a bit unfair. So... I was wondering, would you tell me about yourself, Lina? Like, what's your story? How did you end up as a caravan guard? Do you travel often?"

Lina blinked in surprise at his earnest interest, then her face lit up. "My story, huh? It's not that exciting, but sure." She shifted a bit to face him, clearly pleased he asked. "Well, I grew up in a farm village smaller than Rosewallow, believe it or not. Place called Pinebarrow, at the edge of the Eastern Wood. Quiet life. I'm the youngest of five sisters." She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "So you can imagine, I had a lot of bosses growing up—everyone but me was the boss."

Kei chuckled, nodding. "The youngest gets all the hand-me-downs and all the chores, right?"

"Exactly! I was the runt on every chore list," Lina laughed. "Anyway, my mum is a fletcher—makes arrows—and my da was a ranger for the Queen's patrols. Rare for a man to work, but he was an odd one; he always insisted on helping keep the village safe. He taught all us girls archery and tracking."

Hearing that her father was active in such a role intrigued Kei. Perhaps frontier regions allowed men to take on duties out of necessity, or he was just as stubborn about not being coddled as Kei felt. Either way, it was interesting.

"So you got your talent from both parents: arrows from Mom, duty from Dad," Kei said.

Lina nodded. "When I was maybe twelve, a merchant caravan came through our village needing a new guard after one of theirs got injured. I basically begged my folks to let me sign on as an apprentice guard. I was restless, you see—farming didn't suit me, and having five older sisters can smother you. I wanted to see the world beyond Pinebarrow." Her voice took on a nostalgic tone. "Da was hesitant, but Mum convinced him I'd be alright, that I had her aim and his stubborn head. So off I went. Traveled with that caravan for a few years, learning the ropes. Eventually ended up in Rosewallow's region and signed on with Fara's team here."

Kei listened with rapt attention. He could imagine a younger Lina, eager to break free and prove herself on the road. "That's brave, leaving home so young."

She shrugged, a proud little smile on her lips. "I suppose it was. It wasn't easy at first—I missed my family like mad that first year. But the thrill of travel and getting to protect people... it felt right. And hey, I got to meet interesting folk along the way." She nudged him lightly with her elbow. "Present company included."

Kei felt a pleasant warmth at that, and the ease of her banter made him smile. He realized he was genuinely enjoying getting to know her, System quest aside. "Do you visit your family often?"

"Once or twice a year I swing by Pinebarrow if a route takes me near. They're all doing fine. Two of my sisters married, one runs the fletcher shop with Mum now, the others moved to bigger towns making their own way." She chuckled. "No brothers, though. If you think women fuss over you normally, you should see how my village got when my da walked down the street. Ha! He hated it."

Kei found himself laughing softly too. The mental image of a grizzled ranger dad grumbling while being offered pies by a dozen villagers popped up easily, not unlike his own experiences multiplied.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence for a moment. The logs in the fire settled with a crackle, sending sparks dancing upward. The other travelers were giving them space, whether intentionally or just naturally drifting to other tasks. In any case, Kei and Lina found themselves in a private little bubble of conversation on the edge of camp.

"Thank you for sharing that," he said quietly. "I... I feel like I understand things a bit better now. How things go, outside of what I've been told or seen just from my perspective."

Lina tilted her head. "How so?"

He tried to put it into words. "Well, I've been worried that maybe I'd never be allowed to do anything or be myself here because of the whole 'cherish the men' culture. But hearing about your dad doing what he loved, and about you carving your own path... it's reassuring. Maybe I can find a place too, doing what I love—crafting—without being locked in a tower or something absurd."

Lina's eyes softened. "Kei... no one's going to lock you in a tower. Not if I have anything to say about it." She set her hand gently on his forearm, a brief but earnest gesture. "And I'm sure Marna and her guild friend will help you follow your passion. You might get pampered along the way—okay, you will get pampered along the way—but that doesn't mean you can't do great things. You've got heart; I could see it in how your eyes lit up talking about that wagon enchantment. People will come to respect you for that, not just for... well, being you."

Kei looked at her, surprised and touched by the encouragement. "Thank you," he murmured, feeling a warm rush of gratitude that had nothing to do with the System's reward and everything to do with genuine connection.

Right on cue, he heard a soft ding and saw the translucent text of the System appear briefly:

Quest Complete! Empathy +1.

He felt it too—a gentle glow of understanding and connection in his chest. Whether it was a true stat change or just the psychological effect of a meaningful conversation, Kei suddenly felt closer to Lina and more confident about engaging with people here.

He quickly blinked away the text before Lina noticed anything amiss. The System, content for now, retreated to the corner of his vision without further comment.

They continued talking for a while, the conversation flowing easily. Lina proudly shared how she'd once led a caravan through a dense fog by climbing trees to scout from above, and Kei listened intently. In turn, she asked him about Earth—what crafting was like there. Kei found himself describing his grandfather's woodshop and the power tools he used, trying to explain the concept of electricity (Lina's eyes went wide at the idea of invisible energy traveling through wires).

Eventually, as the fire died down and one of the guards started a patrol, Lina stretched and smiled at him. "We should get some rest. Big day for you tomorrow, city boy."

Kei chuckled. "City boy. Never thought I'd be called that—I've never even been to one until now."

"You'll do fine," she assured, standing up and offering him a hand. He took it and she pulled him to his feet with ease. "If you can handle Rosewallow's welcome, Anderun will be just more of the same, larger scale. Just stick close to Marna and Helena."

Kei nodded. Butterflies awakened in his stomach at the mention of the city, but he felt readier now than he had this morning. "Goodnight, Lina. And... thanks for the talk."

"Goodnight, Kei," she responded, her voice warm. "Any time."

Kei made his way to his bedroll near Marna's slumbering form. As he settled under the blanket and gazed up at the starry sky framed by gently swaying branches, he couldn't help but smile. Today had been a good day. A long, eventful, and occasionally embarrassing day—but good. He had seen new wonders, traveled without incident, and even made a new friend in Lina.

The System remained quiet now, perhaps satisfied that he'd taken a step toward "socializing." Kei found he didn't mind its nudge this time, since it led to something positive on his own terms.

With thoughts of city lights and friendly faces mingling in his head, Kei drifted off beneath the twin moons.