Edward froze at the scene before him. How was this possible? Just five seconds ago, he was crossing the street to catch the bus. He remembered clearly the sound of the tires, the light turning green, the phone vibrating in his pocket… And now, he was here.
The sound of traffic had been replaced by cheerful voices, hurried footsteps, and the shouts of merchants. In front of him stretched a bustling open-air market. Colorful stalls lined every corner, with people moving back and forth, carrying bags and laughing loudly. The smell of ripe fruit, spices, and roasted food filled the air, teasing his empty stomach.
But the strangest thing wasn't the unfamiliar faces or the slightly cartoonish architecture. What made his brain freeze entirely were… the animals. Or rather, the Pokémon.
Edward rubbed his eyes, convinced he was hallucinating. But when he opened them again, the sight remained: a woman walked calmly with a Yamper bouncing at her side. A boy was feeding a Zigzagoon, while an intimidating Grimmsnarl helped carry massive bags for an old man.
"No... this can't be…" Edward murmured, cold sweat running down his neck. "Pokémon? Am I… hallucinating?"
His legs gave out. In the blink of an eye, he fell on his butt, feeling the hard impact against the stone ground.
A gray-haired lady, seemingly around sixty, who was walking nearby, stopped when she noticed his fall. With a concerned look, she set her bags down and approached.
"Are you all right, young man?" she asked, offering him her hand with a gentle smile.
Edward stared at the woman for a moment, lungs struggling for air. Still dazed, he accepted the help and slowly stood up, brushing off his pants.
"I… lost my balance for a second. Thank you for your help, ma'am."
"It's nothing," she said, lightly shaking her head. She picked up her bags again and began to walk away, but Edward, still in shock, called out before she left.
"Ma'am!" he exclaimed, his voice shaky and uncertain. "Can I… can I ask you a question?"
The woman turned to him, patient.
"Of course, boy. If I know the answer, I'll do my best."
Edward took a deep breath, trying to keep the panic out of his voice.
"Where am I?"
The woman looked surprised for a brief moment, furrowing her brow slightly. But then she relaxed her shoulders and replied:
"Well, you're at the central market of Hulbury, of course. My goodness, young people these days…" she muttered with slight irony as she walked away carrying her groceries.
"Hulbury?" Edward repeated mentally. "But that's… Galar? What the hell is happening to me?"
He stood frozen for several long minutes, staring at the gray stone ground as if it could give him some kind of answer. His heart was racing, and his mind seemed on the verge of collapse.
An anxiety attack wouldn't be an exaggeration. In fact, that's exactly what he was feeling.
He ran his hands over his face. "This can't be happening. It's too absurd."
That very morning, Edward was on his way to spend the weekend at his best friend Herald's house. They were going to rehearse for their band's first performance at a small local indie festival. He had his backpack with clothes and his guitar with him. It was just another ordinary weekend…
And now, he was in the world of Pokémon.
Of course, he knew the franchise. He had played some of the games, watched the anime casually. But he was never an obsessed fan. He had never wished to "transmigrate" like in the clichés of certain anime or fanfics he read out of boredom. For him, it was escapist fiction — and now, it had become reality.
"And why me?" he thought, feeling a knot tighten in his chest. "I'm not a hero. I'm not chosen for anything. My parents… my siblings… they'll miss me. Maybe they'll think I was kidnapped, ran away, or something worse."
His hands began to tremble. Edward wanted to scream, but he couldn't. He sat on the curb and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. After a few minutes, he got up and started walking, wandering through the city for about ten minutes until he found a small park.
There were short trees, wooden benches, and a central fountain where children played with Water-type Pokémon. He chose a more secluded bench and sat down heavily, taking his backpack off.
He checked its contents: four changes of clothes, his phone (no signal, of course), his wallet with 300 euros which probably meant nothing in this world, and a few personal hygiene items.
Next to it was his guitar case. Carefully, he unzipped it and revealed the instrument: a red and black electric guitar gleaming under the afternoon sun. Inside his backpack, he also carried a small battery-powered portable amplifier.
He held the instrument with affection. That guitar had been a birthday gift from his father — one of the few things that truly meant something to him.
"I've got no money, no place to sleep…" he murmured, voice choked. "My parents are in another world… and I'll probably never see Celeste, or Herald… or anyone again…"
The tears came silently. They ran down his face as he hugged the guitar tightly to his chest, trying to hold back the despair.
He cried for a long time. No one came near. No one saw.
When he finally pulled himself together, he wiped his face with the sleeve of his jacket. He still didn't know what was happening or how — but one thing was certain: he had to survive. And for that, he needed money.
He stood up with difficulty, strapped the guitar onto his back, and took a deep breath.
"All right," he said aloud. "Time for rock and roll, bitches."