I entered the medieval village, eyes scanning everything around me.
It felt like I had stepped backward through time—into a culture untouched by progress.
Stone buildings stood firm, their decks supported by aging wooden beams. Dirt roads stretched in every direction, weaving between structures like veins. The rooftops were a patchwork of wood, stone, and thatch.
Cloth banners—if they could even be called that—hung limply from ropes, swaying in the breeze. They looked like old garments, repurposed and faded from time.
The air smelled of smoke. But at last... it was sweet.
Next, I searched for signs of life—but found none. Only homes and taverns lit the streets, their light holding back the fading day.
"Hey mister—what are you doing on the street after curfew?"
A soft, sweet voice called out to me.
Where is that voice coming from? I turned my head, scanning the empty street.
"Up here, dummy."
I looked up. A young woman leaned out of a window above, dressed in what I could only describe as rags.
Her eyes were emerald, sharp even in the fading light. Her skin carried the warm tone of Middle Eastern lineage. Long brown hair framed her face, and her high cheekbones only added to her beauty.
"I just entered the city moments ago," I replied, keeping my voice low but firm.
She gave a sharp sigh.
"Well, don't just stand there. Go find a hotel to check into. You know humans aren't allowed out after dusk."
Trying not to appear ignorant, I responded carefully:
"Well… you see, I'm short on money at the moment. And I have nowhere else to go."
She sighed again—less annoyed this time.
"Do you need shelter? I don't have a spare room, but people say my floor's pretty cozy."
An opportunity. I grabbed it.
"Yes, please, ma'am. I'll be in your debt."
If she took me for a fool and tried to take advantage of me, I would—
Before I could finish the thought, I heard the creak of a door opening.
"Quick, come in before the guards spot you," she whispered—just loud enough for me to hear.
I hadn't even noticed her leave the window.
"Right away, ma'am."
I approached with cautious steps as she held the door open for me, unsure of her intentions.
As I stepped inside, I was immediately met with a flight of wooden stairs leading upward.
"Well, don't just stand there," she called out from behind me.
Without turning around, I began to ascend the dimly lit stairs.
At the top, I found what resembled a living room—but it was stripped bare. No couch. No table. Just a brightly burning fireplace, its light casting shadows along the walls.
I heard her footsteps coming up behind me and quickly stepped aside, not wanting our first meeting to be spoiled by carelessness.
As she passed, a faint scent of firewood clung to her—not overpowering, but noticeable. Enough to leave something behind, even if it was only a soundless impression.
She walked ahead, then turned slightly and spoke.
"My name is Kaela Thorn."
She looked at me, waiting—expecting something in return.
I hesitated, weighing my options. A false name would be safer, but... I wanted to see her reaction.
"My name is Adolf Hitler, ma'am."
No reaction. None at all.
"Nice to meet you, Adolf. As you can see, this is my home. You're not allowed to visit anywhere in the back."
Her tone was friendly—but firm.
"Stay here, by the fire. You may rest until morning. Then you leave."
I nodded affirmatively.
Without another word, she turned and walked down a dim hallway into a room swallowed by shadows.
Without watching her for another second, I turned away and laid down beside the fire.
One eye stayed open. That's all it ever took to stay alive.Old habits. New world. Same rules.