Kazuki patted his jacket pocket again and found what he was hoping for.
A cigarette pack. A lighter.
He opened the pack. Still fifteen cigarettes inside.
"Not bad."
He took out a cigarette, flicked his lighter, and lit it. He took a long drag. The smoke filled his lungs, hot and familiar. He slowly exhaled, relaxing as he let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.
"Should've had a drink first," he muttered.
His mouth still tasted like dried beer and regret. A sip of water would've helped.
That's when he heard it.
A soft trickling sound, steady and close by.
He looked around. Just off the side of the road, a narrow stream ran along the slope, winding between rocks and roots.
The water was clear and gently flowing.
He took a few cautious steps closer.
"…Huh."
The water wasn't muddy. No trash. No algae or strange foam. No bugs crawling on the surface. Just crystal-clear water lazily moving through the grass.
He crouched down and watched it.
"…Looks cleaner than half the bottled water I buy," he said softly.
But he hesitated. Drinking from a random stream? Probably not the smartest idea. He'd seen enough nature shows to know that's how people got parasites.
Still… it looked so pure, and the air was so fresh.
"…Oh well. I'm thirsty anyway."
One sip wouldn't hurt, right?
Kazuki knelt down, cupped his hands, and dipped them into the stream. The water was cool and refreshing, so clear he could see the small stones at the bottom.
He raised his hands to his mouth and took a sip.
His eyes widened a little.
"…Damn. That's good."
The water was fresh and cold, but not ice cold. Not warm either. Just the perfect temperature, like it came straight from a mountain spring.
He looked at the stream again.
Screw it.
He scooped up another handful and drank again. He kept drinking until he was no longer thirsty and the dryness in his throat disappeared.
With a satisfied sigh, he stood up and took another drag from his cigarette.
Smoke filled his lungs. Cold water settled in his stomach. The morning sun shone overhead.
"Man… this is real life," he said quietly.
He exhaled, watching the smoke drift upward.
"If I get stomach cramps, I'll just go to a clinic and take a sick day. No big deal."
He gave a lazy shrug.
Then he heard something.
A sound from far away, faint, rhythmic, and uneven. It was rolling and clattering over dirt and stones.
Kazuki narrowed his eyes, listening closer.
That wasn't a car.
It didn't hum or roar like an engine. It sounded rougher, like wood. Maybe creaking in rhythm, like wheels, but not rubber ones.
Curious, he walked back toward the road, still holding his cigarette.
The sound got louder.
And then he saw it.
A wagon.
A real wooden wagon, pulled by a horse. Dust was kicked up from the wheels as it moved slowly along the path.
Kazuki just stared at it for a few seconds.
What the hell…?
His mind was having trouble understanding what he was seeing.
That was definitely a horse. That was definitely a wooden cart. And the person holding the reins was wearing something that looked like medieval clothing, simple tunic, rough fabric, wide-brimmed hat.
Kazuki blinked.
This… this isn't Japan.
No way.
No park did reenactments like this. No festivals this far out in the countryside. And nobody was casually riding around in full medieval cosplay.
He reached into his pocket again and pulled out his phone. Still no signal. No map. No idea where he was.
Okay. Now he was sure. This isn't anywhere near Tokyo. He hadn't bought a plane ticket, right?
He checked his phone again, no notifications, no records.
He didn't book a flight. He didn't even have enough points for a train ride.
And yet…
Here he was.
In the middle of nowhere. The air was fresh. There was a clear stream. And now, a horse-drawn wagon.
What the hell was going on?
He was stunned.
There was no more denying it now.
There's no way I'm still in Japan, he thought.
His stomach twisted. That fresh mountain water didn't feel refreshing anymore.
"Crap…" he muttered. "What's going on…?"
The wagon slowed down as it got closer, its wooden wheels creaking to a stop just a few meters away.
Kazuki looked up, trying to keep calm. He forced a stiff, awkward smile.
The man holding the reins said something in a language Kazuki didn't recognize. It wasn't English. Not Chinese either. The words sounded rough, clipped, in some kind of dialect?
"Um… hello?" Kazuki offered cautiously.
The man responded with more of that same unfamiliar language. Slower now, as if trying to be clear. But Kazuki couldn't understand anything.
His mind scrambled for clues, but nothing made sense.
Then he saw movement in the back of the wagon.
A curtain shifted.
Someone peeked out, a group of travelers, maybe. But their clothes were strange. Not modern, not casual. Cloaks, leather straps, armor that looked like it belonged in a fantasy story.
Could it be cosplay? No, that didn't make sense here. Not far out in the countryside, with horses.
One of them stepped out. A big man with arms as thick as tree trunks, carrying a huge sword on his back.
Another followed, tall and curvy, wearing flowing robes that showed more than they probably should. She carried a long staff with a spiral ornament on top, like something from a fantasy novel.
Kazuki blinked.
The girl in robes tilted her head.
"Umm… hello?"
He froze.
Wait. She spoke Japanese…?
"You… uh—can you understand me?"
She nodded slightly.
"Yes. A little. I studied Kuman language."
Kazuki stared.
"Kuman…? What the heck is that?"
She smiled faintly, her voice a little stiff.
"Language from your region, yes? Kuman. From the Eastern Isles?"
His mind went blank for a moment.
Kuman? Is that what they call Japanese here?
This wasn't just a misunderstanding. It wasn't a dream. It wasn't a prank.
This was something completely different.
( End Of Chapter )