Later that same day, after returning from the infirmary and getting settled in his new room, Inglen decided to make sense of the world he was now part of. With a stack of old books Gao had lent him, he immersed himself in learning about the professions and guild systems around him.
He discovered that alchemists were the closest equivalent to scientists in this world, dealing with matter through reconstruction, deconstruction, and the strange principles of energy flow. The world also had familiar roles like healers, engineers, and scholars—but there were also unique professions that stood out.
Mages, for example, were highly respected and rare in the small town of Bergwald—a poor yet peaceful region surrounded by low mountains and slow-moving rivers. Most mages either worked in the capital or for the Mage Union, which controlled towers across various nations. Martial artists also existed, often serving as guards or mercenaries. But what fascinated Inglen most was the adventurers—bold explorers who entered dangerous zones called chaos veins to uncover lost resources and relics.
However, these professions were distant to the people of Bergwald. Here, life was quiet. Predictable. Practical.
After reading for what felt like hours, Inglen was tired and decided to take a break. Just then—knock knock—a familiar knock came at the door.
He opened it to see Cheol—barely hiding his grin—and Gao, still a little stiff from his day of lectures.
"Let's eat," Gao said.
Inglen blinked. "Eat? Where did you get food from yesterday?"
Cheol snorted, "We ate after you passed out, remember?"
Gao added, "This place was our go-to during first year. Come on, you'll like it."
Inglen, too mentally drained to protest, followed them out, trailing like a lost child beneath the evening sky. Lanterns flickered over the streets of Bergwald. Quiet conversations drifted from windows and the air smelled faintly of wood smoke.
They soon arrived at a modest little restaurant tucked beside a laundromat. It wasn't lavish, but it was clean, warm, and filled with the smell of stir-fried vegetables and simmering broth.
Cheol walked up to the front and called out to the kitchen, "Yo, Boss! One salad and three bowls of kongnamul bap!"
Behind the stall, a middle-aged man gave a loud "Coming!" and began prepping the dishes with his daughter, who stood chopping vegetables by the counter.
The daughter looked up—and locked eyes with Inglen.
"Who's the new girl?" she asked flatly, eyes full of doubt glaring towards cheol.
Gao grinned. "Oh? Why do you care?"
Inglen, still awkward with strangers, corrected her calmly, "I'm a guy. I'm their new... uh, buddy."
The girl blinked. Turned her face from Cheol and then went back to chopping with flushed cheeks said "new guy my name is Rumi, whats yours?"
Inglen replied :"Inglen thoithoi "
The owner glanced up. "Bit late in the year to enroll, eh?"
"He's not a student," Gao explained, "He just got hired as a gardener."
"Ahh, got it," the owner said. "Thought you were one of those smart types." Then, turning to Cheol, he said, "Three months left, eh? Time to decide your future. Say, if you don't figure something out, I've got space here. My daughter's hands are rough as sandpaper—no man'll marry her at this rate."
"DAAAD!" the girl yelled, throwing a sliced cucumber at him in embarrassment.
Cheol started to say something, paused, then just shrugged and laughed dumbly. Gao stifled a snort.
As they waited, Inglen finally noticed the name carved into the old wooden sign above the restaurant:"Liescha's Shop."
"Liescha?" he asked softly.
Gao nodded, voice unusually quiet. "The owner's late wife."
The meal soon arrived. Cheol immediately dug in, slurping and humming with satisfaction. The others followed. Inglen, still new to all this, took smaller bites—but the warm food settled something in him.
As they ate, Cheol dramatically recounted his confrontation with Miss Petrovna, adding far too much flair and sound effects. The owner's daughter leaned over the counter, resting her chin on her palms, clearly listening—even as she rolled her eyes and pretended not to care.
After the last grains of rice were scraped from their bowls, Gao paid the owner with a quiet thank you. They left the shop as warm lights flickered on across the sleepy street.
Returning to the apartment, the group split into their rooms.
Inglen collapsed onto his mattress, muscles sore, mind heavy—but heart strangely light. For the first time since waking up in this strange world, he felt something almost like peace.
Not because of clarity.
But because of company.
Sleep claimed him the moment he closed his eyes.