Chapter 2: Ch2: Small Problems
"Luther..."
"Luther..."
Huh?
"LUTHER!"
Cold water splashed over my face. I jolted awake, shivering like a leaf in the wind.
"Hey! What the hell was that for?!" I shouted, glaring at the girl towering over me.
"That’s for ignoring me, peasant."
The girl’s pink dress was so frilly it looked like it had fought and lost against a peach tree. Her blonde hair was tied into twin bonnets, and she wore a smug little glare like she owned the place.
Peasant?
I’ll show you who’s the peasant.
Without hesitation, I grabbed the bucket beside me, still half full of water, and dumped it right over her head.
"Ahhh!" She shrieked, dripping wet.
I doubled over laughing. "Hahaha! You look like a peacock! No, wait! a soaked chicken! The sun’s not coming to dry you, little birdy!"
I clutched my stomach, tears in my eyes from laughing.
Her pout deepened, and then
"Ahhhhh!" She let out an ear splitting wail. "I hate you! Mummy! Luther poured water on me!"
She sprinted toward a nearby house, crying like I’d committed war crimes.
I stopped laughing, blinking in confusion.
...Wait.
Why is she so small?
I looked down, expecting my usual adult sized shoes. Instead, tiny, dirty little feet poked out of ragged cloth. My hands were thin, my arms scrawny, and my whole body grimy.
"WHY THE HELL AM I SMALL?!"
In a panic, I stumbled back, only to smack my head against a wooden pole. Pain shot through my skull.
Okay, okay, think, think... I was about to storm off to kill that stupid author... tripped and fell, then. Oh, right. The kettle.
If I was knocked out, shouldn’t I have woken up on my kitchen floor? Or at least in a hospital with third degree burns?
Instead, I was surrounded by people in medieval style clothes. Some flaunted jewelry; others looked plain. The buildings were old, worn stone, like something out of the 15th century. Definitely not my neighborhood.
Where the hell am I...?
Before I could piece it together, a voice cut through the crowd.
"Mummy! There he is!"
The peach dress girl was back. This time dragging along an older woman, pointing straight at me.
"Oh crap."
Forgot about her
I glanced left. No escape.
Glanced right. Still no escape.
So, naturally, I chose the most rational option:
I ran.
"Get back here this instant!" the woman shouted, releasing the girl and chasing after me.
I darted around a corner into a narrow alley, legs pumping, but... yeah, there’s a big difference between adult stamina and a kid’s body. Spoiler: I was the kid.
I skidded under a wooden crate, only to feel rough hands grab me by the scruff and lift me into the air.
"Finally got you, brat!" The woman sneered and smacked my cheek. Pain flared hot and sharp. "Thought you could outrun me with those twig legs? You’re lucky I didn’t send the dogs after you!"
Stupid woman. Just shut up.
"Ahhh!" she yelped, clutching her hand.
Yeah, I bit her.
"You little—!"
Too slow. I wriggled free and bolted, this time toward the crowd.
Alleyways are too easy to get cornered in. If I’m small, I should use it to my advantage.
So I threw myself straight into the busiest part of the street.
The woman stopped, glaring. She was too big to force her way through quickly, while I slipped between legs, carts, and luggage.
"Out of the way, brat!" a noble barked as I squeezed past him.
"Whose kid is this?!" someone complained.
"Coming through!" yelled a woman balancing luggage bigger than me. I dodged her, only to tumble into another alley.
I slumped against a wall, chest heaving.
I’m... so tired...
This body is too weak.
My stomach growled like a dying beast. I looked at my frail arms, my bony legs.
How long has this body gone without food?
I stumbled forward until a glint caught my eye. A broken shard of glass. I picked it up with both hands and stared at my reflection.
Silver hair. Navy blue eyes that shimmered like gems. A face too thin, too young, too malnourished.
I let the glass drop with a sigh.
Great. Just great.
The kind of thing that only happens in novels finally happened to me.
I pinched myself.
... Yup. Not a dream.
Which only meant one thing.
"Wait... If I’m here... does that mean I’m...?"
The realization slammed into me.
"I’m dead."
Bang!
Darkness swallowed me whole as I collapsed, unconscious.
---
The wind hushed, birds quieted, and the sun dipped low.
It was dusk.
A groan escaped me. My eyelids fluttered open as hunger roared through me like an angry beast.
Oh... my head hurts.
I clutched my forehead, then my stomach, as the grumbles grew relentless.
I need food. If this frail little body collapses, that’s it. Game over.
With the last scraps of strength I had, I staggered back into the streets. The once busy crowd had thinned; vendors were packing up for the day. I scanned every corner, desperate for even a crumb. One look at my ragged clothes told me the truth: this kid had no one taking care of him.
A sharp ding caught my ear.
I turned. A small tavern stood at the corner, its wooden sign swinging in the breeze. Outside, the owner laughed with a departing customer.
"That mead was sweet!" slurred the drunk, leaning on his companion. "C’mon, Jobin, tell me your secret already!"
The burly tavern owner chuckled, brushing him off. "If I told you, you wouldn’t come back every night to drink it, would you?"
The drunk pouted. "It’s not like it’s a family secret..."
Jobin waved him off, laughing as the man was dragged away.
My throat tightened. My stomach growled so loud I was sure he’d heard it.
Screw pride. Pride won’t keep me alive. Food will.
I tugged at the hem of my filthy shirt and looked up at him with wide, pitiful eyes. "E-Excuse me, sir..."
Jobin turned, blinking down at me. "Well now. What’s this? Hello, little one." He crouched, meeting my gaze. "What can old Jobin do for you?"
"C-Can I... get something to eat?" I asked, forcing my voice small and timid.
My stomach rumbled right on cue.
Understanding dawned on him. He sighed. "Listen, kid. I can give you food... but nothing’s free in this world. You’ll have to work for it."
"I can work!" I said too quickly, too desperately.
Jobin blinked, then smiled. "That’s the spirit."
He scooped me up one handed like I weighed nothing. My dignity shriveled on the spot.
Being carried like this is humiliating. I’m still an adult, damn it.
"Are you alright up there?" Jobin chuckled, adjusting me on his shoulder.
Inside, the tavern buzzed with life. The smell of mead hit me like a brick wall. People laughed, argued, and danced to a fiddler in the corner. The noise was overwhelming.
"Hey, Jobin!" A drunk called. "What’s that on your shoulder? Got yourself a kid?"
"Didn’t know you were married! Who’s the lucky wife?" another chimed in.
The room erupted in laughter.
"Pipe down, you lot!" Jobin barked, holding me tighter. "You’ll scare the boy."
Scare me? Please. I’m shaking because it’s freezing in here, not because of your hare brained jokes.
One man squinted at me. "He doesn’t look anything like you..."
"Maybe he takes after his mother," another slurred.
"Yeah! Who’d want to adopt Jobin anyway?" Laughter again.
Thud! A mug clonked one of them on the head.
"Ha! Laugh all you want. My size is perfect," Jobin declared, proudly patting his belly like it was a trophy.
The laughter only died when my stomach growled again.
"Jobin, feed the poor kid already!"
Jobin grinned sheepishly. "Right, right. Mari!"
A woman with an apron appeared from the back, giggling as Jobin turned red.
"What is it, sunshine?" she teased.
He coughed. "Get this boy some food and a wash. He’ll be your new apprentice."
Apprentice?! I thought I was just washing dishes.
Mari raised a brow but obeyed. She handed me a plate of beans and bread.
I dug in only for my face to pale.
"Oh no."
I bolted for the back door, dropped to my knees, and retched until there was nothing left.
"Ugh... This body went too long without food. Even a little’s too much..."
My stomach whimpered again, empty and raw. I groaned, slapping it in frustration.
"You’re hungry again? After puking everything up?" I rasped.
My vision spun. I reached for the wall to steady myself when.
Clank.
A metal can rolled to my feet.
"...A stray cat?"
But the faint glimmer of blood on the stone made my stomach twist.
"Injured...?"
Curiosity, or maybe sheer stupidity, pulled me deeper into the dark alley. My steps were slow and shaky, my hand trailing the wall. The cold bit into my skin as the moon rose higher, silver light spilling across the cobblestones.
I stumbled against something. Metal rattled.
"I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean..."
A groan.
I froze.
The moonlight shifted, revealing a figure crumpled on the ground. Blood soaked her dress, her long hair tangled and matted.
Recognition hit me like a slap.
No. No, no, no. It can’t be her.
But there was no mistaking her.
Liliana Fiorie.
One of the main characters of that cursed book.
Bleeding out. Right in front of me.
"...Damn. I’m screwed."