I was just an ordinary kid. Ordinary, as ordinary as it is possible to be in poor neighborhoods where food is a luxury and a roof over your head is the only escape from the damp and cold. I was used to waking up to the sound of loud voices, banging on wooden walls and barking dogs, the usual slum dwellers. My day was spent watching other children run through the dirty streets while I sat on the old, cracked stairs in front of the house.
I was five when the strange memories first came. They surfaced like a dream that seems familiar, but you can't recognize it because of the murky veil. I saw other streets, other houses, heard strange, incomprehensible conversations. At that time I didn't pay much attention to it - I just wrote it all off as a childish fantasy. But every day the images became clearer, more vivid, more persistent. I saw cars, tasted food that never existed in our world, heard sounds unlike ours. The memories of the past were too strange and alien, but at the same time frighteningly familiar.
By the time I was seven, everything fell into place. It was like a flash. I remember one day, while playing with other kids, a realization hit me - I was living a different life. I was an adult in a world full of technology that never existed here. Cars, buildings, lights, electricity - it all became so real to me that I could no longer deny the truth. I was someone else. And I was dead.
I realized that I was in a different world, in a different body, and that the life I had lived no longer mattered here in the slums of Zoldasan. I realized that I was in a different world, in a different body, and that the life I had lived no longer mattered here in the slums of Zoldasan Kingdom.
It's been a year since the realization. I am eight now, and I live my life trying to find my place in this harsh world where the only source of warmth was my mother. She never told me about my father, and I never asked questions. Our days were spent struggling to survive, but she always found ways to feed me and keep a roof over my head.
Now, with the past behind me, I understood her sacrifices more deeply. She was a strong woman who had done everything for my well-being. But the world around us was not a prosperous place. It was a place where hope died beneath a layer of dust and dirt, and where every day could be our last.
The world I remembered seemed like a mirage - distant and inaccessible. I knew that now I was just a boy in a slum, without a father, with a mother who was fighting for our lives. And that this new world was cruel, far more cruel than the last.
But despite this, I didn't feel lost. Memories from my past life gave me something more - knowledge, experience, and a strange sense of destiny.
In the slums, life was boiling, but it was a life of filth and pain. People here existed like animals, clinging to every piece of bread, every coin, every breath. The streets, narrow and littered with garbage, became my world. The people who lived here didn't trust each other. Every glance from someone else could mean a threat.
Near our house lived an old woman and her son. The mother's name was Mara and her son's name was Thomas. He was one of those who hated the slums the most. His father was once a blacksmith in the city of Largos, but after his death, other craftsmen took over the forge and the family found themselves on the streets. Thomas often walked the streets, aimlessly, but his gaze was always filled with rage and longing. He despised everyone, neighbors and passersby alike.
I was sitting on our crooked staircase when Mara and Thomas argued again. The voices came to me through the thin walls of their house.
- You'd be better off dead, Thomas! - Mara shouted, her voice trembling with anger. - I'd rather have rats at your throat than drag you through this land like a burden!
- Shut up!" Thomas shouted, his footsteps tramping across the floor, and a moment later the door of their house burst open. He stepped outside, and our eyes met. Thomas looked at me with contempt, as if I were as worthless as the rest of him. - What are you staring at, puppy dog?
I looked away, not wanting to get into a conflict, knowing how it might end. Thomas was dangerous. He wouldn't kill me, of course, but beating me was his style. In the slums, though, any conflict could be deadly.
- It's okay," I stood up and headed away, not wanting to be seen again.
In the street that led to the market square, children were playing. But their games were grim. One of them, Karl, older than the others, was holding a broken stick, playing the part of a guard. The other children played prisoners. They were in filthy rags, their faces smeared with mud, and they crawled on the ground begging for mercy.
- Spare us, sir! - shouted one of the boys.
- Shut up, you worm! - Carl hit him on the back with the stick, and he groaned in pain. It was a game, but there was no fun in their eyes. It was an imitation of the life they saw around them. No one was safe here.
As I passed by, one of the children, seeing me, whispered to another:
- It's that strange boy. They say he dreams of another world.
Rumors traveled fast in the slums, and my mother told me more than once to stay out of other people's conversations. "Words are knives," she used to say. And in this world, they could pierce as well as real blades.
When I got home, my mother was sitting at the table, tired and pale. Her face was marked with wrinkles, though she was still young. Years of living here had left marks on everyone.
- You've been walking the streets again," she said hoarsely, not breaking away from her thoughts.
- Just sitting on the stairs," I answered quietly.
She sighed and remained silent, her silence spoke more than words.
In the three years that I have been consciously living in this world, I have managed to gather some information about it. I dwell in the village of Arshard, which is located outside the walls of the city of Largos. In a broader context, I am in the kingdom of Zoldasan, surrounded by countries such as Carnair and Frousal. There is also a dense forest near the village, much mythologized and the locals are afraid to go there. This world, in its development, is stuck somewhere in the Middle Ages, and it is completely different from my homeland.
People here eat fruits of plants unfamiliar to me, and the vegetables are different from what I knew before. Many of them have strange shapes and colors, making the food seem alien. This world is also home to animals and insects familiar to me, but they have undergone significant changes. For example, the rats here are much larger, have four eyes and a mouth divided into three parts, which causes me a palpable unease.
With the memories from my past life, this world started to scare me, but over time I got used to it, after all, I've been living here for eight whole years.