Chapter 2: A Stranger in a Strange Land


    The sun hung low in the sky as I stepped into the village, its golden rays painting the stone paths and wooden houses in warm hues. Nestled in a valley surrounded by towering mountains, the village was the very picture of rustic charm. Small, tightly packed houses with curved, tiled roofs lined the narrow streets, their exteriors adorned with red paper lanterns and vibrant flower pots. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys, carrying the scent of roasted meat and freshly baked bread.


    The mountains loomed in the distance, their snow-capped peaks reflecting the sunlight like polished jade. Streams of crystal-clear water ran through the village, their cheerful babble adding a harmonious rhythm to the gentle murmur of villagers chatting. Children played barefoot near the streams, their laughter blending with the occasional cluck of chickens and the bleating of goats.


    For a moment, I stood there in awe, feeling as though I’d stepped into a painting.


    “This,” I muttered, “is what they call postcard perfect.”


    The village was alive with activity. Merchants shouted out their wares from wooden stalls, women carried baskets overflowing with vegetables, and old men smoked pipes under the shade of ancient trees. It was picturesque, idyllic even—except for one glaring detail.


    Everyone was staring at me.


    At first, I thought it was just my imagination. But as I walked further into the village, I noticed heads turning, conversations pausing mid-sentence, and eyes lingering on me far longer than was polite.


    “Okay,” I whispered under my breath. “This isn’t awkward at all.”


    I glanced down at myself, trying to figure out what was so fascinating. And then it hit me.


    While everyone else wore simple, flowing robes or sturdy work clothes made of coarse fabric, I was strutting around in jeans, a graphic T-shirt that said "Pizza is Life," and sneakers that had seen better days.


    “Oh, great,” I muttered. “I look like a time-traveling lunatic.”


    A group of children whispered among themselves, pointing at me with wide-eyed curiosity. An elderly woman frowned, her gaze flicking between my face and my shoes as though trying to solve a riddle. Even a dog seemed to stop and give me a once-over before trotting away.


    I forced a smile and nodded politely at the villagers, but the awkwardness was suffocating. My modern clothes screamed “outsider,” and the last thing I wanted was to draw more attention to myself.


    Step one, I decided, blend in. Step two, don’t look like a complete idiot.


    After wandering aimlessly for a while, I found myself in a bustling marketplace. The stalls were overflowing with goods: bundles of herbs, jars of honey, woven baskets, and gleaming tools. The air was thick with the aroma of spices, fresh bread, and something that smelled suspiciously like fermented fish.


    I approached a stall selling clothing. The merchant, a middle-aged man with a kind face and a bushy beard, looked me up and down with thinly veiled amusement.


    “Ah, traveler!” he said in a language I somehow understood perfectly. “You have... unique taste in attire.”


    I cleared my throat, feeling my cheeks heat. “Yeah, about that. I could use something a bit more, uh, traditional.”If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    He chuckled and gestured to a row of folded garments. “You’ve come to the right place. These are made from the finest mountain silk. Strong, breathable, and comfortable.”


    I picked up one of the robes, running my fingers over the fabric. It was soft yet durable, dyed in earthy tones with simple patterns.


    “This one will suit you,” the merchant said, holding up a dark blue robe with silver embroidery along the edges. “Modest, but elegant.”


    “How much?” I asked, bracing myself for the answer.


    “Three silver coins.”


    I froze. Silver coins? I didn’t even know if I had any currency. Frantically, I patted my pockets, and to my relief, I found a small leather pouch tied to my belt. Opening it, I found a mix of coins—gold, silver, and copper.


    “Well, at least that useless system gave me something,” I muttered.


    The merchant raised an eyebrow. “Pardon?”


    “Nothing,” I said quickly. I handed him three silver coins without bothering to haggle. I didn’t know the value of money here, and the last thing I wanted was to offend someone by arguing over prices.


    The merchant beamed. “A wise choice! Let me know if you need anything else.”


    I ducked behind the stall to change, emerging a few minutes later in my new robe. It was surprisingly comfortable, and for the first time since arriving in this world, I felt like I didn’t stick out like a sore thumb.


    “Well,” I said, smoothing the fabric. “At least now I look the part.”


    Feeling slightly less conspicuous, I continued exploring the village. The streets were alive with sights, sounds, and smells that seemed to belong to another era. I passed a blacksmith hammering away at a glowing piece of metal, sparks flying in all directions. Nearby, a group of women sat on wooden stools, chatting as they sorted through baskets of fresh produce.


    Every corner of the village seemed to tell a story. There was a shrine adorned with candles and incense, where villagers bowed their heads in silent prayer. A group of children gathered around an elderly man who was carving intricate patterns into a wooden figurine.


    I couldn’t help but smile. This place was so different from the modern world—slower, simpler, and somehow more alive.


    But as I walked, a thought nagged at the back of my mind. How was it that I could understand these people perfectly? I didn’t recall learning any ancient languages, yet their words flowed into my mind as naturally as my own thoughts.


    “It’s probably another one of those ‘system’ things,” I muttered. “Convenient, but also creepy.”


    The system, however, was conspicuously silent.


    Eventually, my wandering led me to a small tavern at the edge of the marketplace. The sign above the door was painted with the image of a steaming bowl and a pair of chopsticks. The scent of sizzling meat and spices wafted out, making my stomach rumble.


    I stepped inside, and the noise of the village faded, replaced by the hum of conversation and the clinking of bowls. The interior was cozy, with wooden beams, low tables, and lanterns casting a warm glow.


    A young woman in an apron approached me, smiling. “Welcome, traveler. Would you like something to eat?”


    “Yes, please,” I said, settling at an empty table. “Whatever you recommend.”


    Moments later, she placed a steaming bowl of noodles in front of me. The broth was rich and fragrant, the noodles perfectly cooked, and the toppings—a mix of herbs, vegetables, and thin slices of meat—looked fresh and inviting.


    I took a bite and nearly melted.


    “This,” I said, “is amazing.”


    The woman beamed. “I’m glad you like it. My mother’s recipe.”


    As I ate, I couldn’t help but think about the courtyard back on the mountain. It had a small kitchen, plenty of space, and now that I’d seen this tavern, an idea was beginning to take shape.


    “Maybe a tavern isn’t such a bad idea,” I mused. “People need food, and I need a way to survive. Plus, I can always add my own twist—like pizza.”


    I chuckled at the thought. A tavern that served both traditional dishes and modern ones? It might just work.


    By the time I left the tavern, the sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the village. The air was cooler now, and the faint hum of crickets filled the silence.


    As I made my way back to the path leading up the mountain, I couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of emotions. I was still an outsider in this world, but for the first time, I felt like I might be able to carve out a place for myself.


    The villagers still eyed me curiously as I passed, but now I didn’t mind so much. After all, every story needs a beginning, and mine was just getting started.