Aren had often wondered what kind of fantasy stories a fantasy world itself might possess. Today, he finally had an answer.

  Mira, the kind woman in her late thirties who had saved his life, ran a bakery. It was a tiny shop with a cozy interior, somewhat oddly named Dazzling, and in the absence of customers, it was almost sleep-inducing.

  Mira had some work to attend to, and thus Aren found himself acting as today’s salesman. However, he had barely sold anything by the time it reached eleven in the morning.

  He let out a long, dramatic breath as his gaze fell upon a small, box-like device resting at the corner of the glass counter. It was far too small and thick compared to modern televisions, which were narrower than his pinky finger. There was even a small antenna, much like the TVs he had seen in old movies.

  Driven by curiosity, he turned it on, and a weekly, half-hour show began to play.

  This world possessed a completely different language from any he had known on Earth, yet, like a true traveler to another world, he understood it perfectly.

  Of course, it had bothered him at first, but after living in this world for three days, he cared about it as much as he cared about his future back on Earth.

  Kicking all unnecessary thoughts out of his mostly empty mind, he focused on the show.

  Ironically, it was about a hypothetical world where dragons and magic did not exist.

  “Heh,” he chuckled. “Even in a magical world, the human mind still searches for something different.”

  He soon realized that their predictions of such a world were far removed from the reality of a truly magicless one.

  “Idiots,” he muttered. “Using the logic of their own world to describe Earth.”

  The show ended with a long advertisement as the clock crept closer to eleven-thirty.

  It was also the time Mira had told him to close the shop. Aren shut the shutters and walked through the streets, lost in thought.

  From his pocket, he took out a flip phone Mira had left for him. It was an old-school design from Earth, with a small digital display on its folded screen that glowed an irritating blue, showing the time 11:56, with even the slightest movement.

  “At least show the date with the time,” he muttered.

  This world was at least two decades behind Earth in technological advancement, yet it had not even developed engines. Instead, he had seen carriages pulled by horse-sized, two-legged dragons.

  He sighed, his gaze drifting toward the shop signs along the street. The language here was called Sigilic, widely considered the official language of all seventy-seven planets. Of course, each planet still retained its own local languages.

  Wandering through the town, he soon came upon a dark alleyway, a shortcut to the main market he had visited with Mira the day before.

  As soon as he entered, he noticed three people smiling at him smugly as they positioned themselves to surround him from all sides.

  ‘… What now?’ Aren frowned.

  “Hehehe… are you lost?”

  The ugliest and the healthiest of the three smiled maniacally, followed by the other two men, their bodies thin as twigs.

  “Eh, sorry, I don’t have food on me,” Aren said with a forced smile.

  “Food? When did I ask for food?” The fat man turned to the other two in confusion.

  “Boss, boss,” the one on his right said, “I think this bastard is calling you a beggar.”

  ‘Hey now, I was calling all of you beggars.’

  “Hnh.” His breath shot out through his nose in an ugly, pig-like snort as his gaze locked onto Aren. He clenched his fist, muscles tightening beneath rough skin.

  Aren scoffed at the fool about to fight him.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  ‘You utter garbage. Just days ago I was brought here by a dragon, crossing worlds. You think you could—’

  Before his thoughts could finish, the sunlight vanished from his face, swallowed by an approaching shadow. Pain exploded across his cheek as he slammed into the ground, writhing in agony.

  “Damn, bastard. That hurts,” Aren cursed.

  “Of course it does. Now give me everything you have.”

  Shadows fell over him once more as the two lackeys treated his pockets as their own.

  “What a bastard. He’s more broke than us. Not even a single Aurel,” the first lackey said.

  “Boss, we found a cell phone,” the second said, holding up the flip phone.

  ‘Agh…’ Aren remained on the ground, deliberately thinking.

  ‘Should I scream for help? The market is close, there’s a high chance someone would come. But… no.’

  He took a deep breath, then shouted at the top of his lungs while pointing toward the end of the alleyway. “There’s a flying cat!”

  “The hell is a cat?”

  All three turned their heads in the direction Aren pointed.

  In that instant, Aren lunged at the man holding his phone, like a hunting cat. He punched him square in the face, snatched the phone, and ran without looking back.

  The fat thief screamed for the others to chase him, only making Aren push himself faster.

  After running far enough that they could no longer catch him, he stopped, hands on his knees, gasping for breath. When he finally looked around, he realized he was somewhere he had never been before. With his three days of experience in this world, Aren immediately understood, he was lost.

  “I have worse than bad luck.”

  *****

  He checked the bruise on his face; it had already begun to swell. He rubbed it a few times and wandered around, trying to find his way back.

  All the houses nearby had neatly lined red rooftops and cream-colored walls. Frankly, it looked like a starter town from a role-playing game, though the planet size moon hanging in the sky drew far too much of his attention.

  ‘How does gravity even work here?’

  His thoughts vanished when he saw dragons pulling ship-like vessels, traveling toward outer space.

  In the midst of his admiration, he suddenly heard crying, a sound sharp enough to catch his attention. A little girl, around four or five years old, stood nearby, crying loudly like drums at a wedding. Yet unlike such noise, it didn’t make his legs move on their own. Quite the opposite, actually.

  Aren sighed. ‘I really don’t have time for this.’

  Then, rejecting his own thoughts, he walked closer to the source of the noise.

  ‘Damn it… they might still be chasing me. But no one else is helping her either.’

  As he approached, he hid his irritation behind a stiff, twitching smile and bent down.

  “Hey… ah… need help?”

  The girl stopped crying and looked up at him, though she still seemed to be suffering from the aftereffects of her earlier wailing.

  “I wanna go home,” she said, tears spilling out again.

  “Yeah, I figured. So… where is it?”

  The girl stared at him as if to question why, if she knew the way, she hadn’t already gone on her own.

  Aren sighed and pulled the phone from his pocket, flipping it open. What he saw made him question whether he really came from a technologically advanced world.

  Instead of number keys, movement buttons, or the iconic red and green call keys, there was only a single, thumb-sized crystal button.

  “Eh… what the hell is this?”

  He snapped the phone shut and stuffed it back into his pocket before looking at the girl again.

  “Hey, what’s your name?”

  “Astra,” she said, still sniffling.

  “Do you remember which direction you came from?”

  She nodded slightly and pointed ahead.

  “Alright. Let’s go,” he sighed, walking in that direction.

  As they followed her lead, at some point the little girl grabbed his hand. Under different circumstances, Aren would have pulled away, but this time, he simply sighed and went along with it.

  They passed through several alleyways. Aren kept glancing back, half-expecting the three thieves to appear.

  By now, he was beginning to doubt whether the girl was pointing in random directions.

  Eventually, they reached the edge of the market Aren had originally been trying to find.

  “Are your parents here?”

  When he looked down, the small hand holding his was gone.

  “What the— where did she go?”

  He looked around, but the girl had vanished without a trace.

  ‘Damn it. I hope there’s something like a police force in this world.’

  As he moved deeper into the market, searching, Aren noticed a clown handing out balloons to children. Thinking the girl might have gone there, he walked closer.

  The man wore an oil-painted, cheerful clown face, yet he was dressed in a formal suit. His long black hair fell freely, streaked with blue where no wick or ornament was attached. After giving away the last balloon, he noticed Aren and leaned down slightly, compensating for their height difference.

  “Dear sir,” the clown said, “are you perhaps looking for a way to awaken as a Sorcerer?”

  “Eh, no. I’m looking for a little girl. She might’ve been here.”

  “There were many,” the clown replied smoothly. “But before that, may I suggest this book to you?”

  He offered a thin book decorated with childish paintings.

  “No, I—”

  “This book contains one hundred guaranteed daily exercises for awakening your dormant mana.”

  ‘Oh great. A scammer.’

  “If exercise is not your preference,” the clown continued, “may I suggest this potion? You see, it possesses a magical eff—”

  “Alright, alright. I’ll consider it later. I’m kind of in a hurry,” Aren said, cutting him off.

  “Ah, if that is the case, then you may have this.” The clown offered a card, which Aren reluctantly accepted.

  It was a familiar design, even from Earth.

  A Joker card.

  ‘Cards exist in this world too.’

  “Well,” the clown said with a faint smile, “I suspect you will soon need my help. When the time comes, hold this card in your hand and follow the path you desire. I am sure fate will reunite us… eventually.”

  ‘That’s… oddly mysterious.’

  Aren found himself genuinely impressed.

  Leaving the clown behind, he searched the market further. When he paused for a moment, a voice called out to him.

  He turned to see a woman in her late thirties, wearing jeans and a loose jacket, waving at him. She adjusted her glasses before speaking.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Aren smiled. “Miss Mira.”