In a corner of the city always shrouded in darkness, a young man sat leaning against it, his face obscured by his long black hair.
The man stared at the neatly arranged stone path, puddles of water formed by the rain spreading across the city.
"Who is this?"
The man spoke in his mind as he saw the dead stare reflected in the water. The unfamiliar face filled him with panic, but he couldn't move, his body covered in wounds of torture, and he couldn't make a sound. There were no screams, no groans, no vibrations in his throat.
Amidst the heavy, noisy rain, his world suddenly fell silent, as if the sound that always emerged from his body had vanished into thin air.
As his options were gone, a memory that wasn't his own crashed into his head with a vengeance.
"Aaahhh...!"
The scream that should have been so loud didn't come at all—only an expression of infinite pain remained. As this continued, his body stiffened, and his consciousness began to fade. Fortunately, the wounds etched all over his body slowly disappeared, except for his voice, which had yet to recover, as if it were a curse.
In that memory, he was named Van, a young man who had just turned sixteen. His birth was unknown, and since he was a baby, Van had worn a slave symbol on his forehead: a circle depicting a goddess embracing the sun.
Because of this, Van was picked up by slave traders, sold from one master to another, only to eventually lose his voice and be abandoned to die after prolonged torture.
When he finally regained consciousness, he remembered that he came from Earth, an ordinary man, nothing special. He could still remember the feeling of death he faced in a series of accidents, leaving him with a regretful death.
"Why am I here? In a world worse than death?"
The man stared at his hands, his dark eyes narrowing. Tears unknowingly welled up in his eyes, but the world ignored them. They mingled with the cold rain as he turned his gaze to the dark sky, the water dripping down his face adding to his sadness.
However, he knew he couldn't continue to escape his fate. In that world, he was dead, but in this unknown place, he lived. Although imperfect, he lived. That was all that mattered.
"From now on, my name is Van. My ultimate goal is to survive."
After saying this to himself, Van began to consider what he should do next, considering that the wounds on his body had been completely removed. Furthermore, he also realized that the slave symbol on his head had disappeared in the reflection of the water scattered on the road.
Even so, the hunger that had been tormenting him all this time forced Van to prioritize finding food.
"Clothing, food, shelter—as long as I have those, even if they don't guarantee my safety, I won't die that easily."
Van, having already set his sights on a goal, immediately stood up and walked down the dark back alley. Each step he took sent water splashing across the street, making a rather disturbing sound.
Silently, Van walked out of the back alley, heading towards the only source of light outside.
When he finally saw the world outside the back alley, Van widened his eyes, shocked by the seemingly clichéd scene.
The streetlights were dim, the buildings resembled European designs from the Industrial Revolution, small black cars passed by like unrefined horse-drawn carriages, and even their clothing looked vintage.
Van glanced left and right, only to see people disgusted by his tattered appearance.
But he ignored them all, his eyes now fixed on a man dressed in a suit so out of his time, like someone from the modern era.
Before Van could reach him, the man disappeared as if swallowed by the crowd.
Confused by what he had just seen, Van paused for a moment, staring blankly at the pedestrians, before someone tapped him on the shoulder.
"Hey!"
The call immediately jolted Van's body, and he quickly turned his head around, only to find the same sight before him—pedestrians.
But he knew full well that the feeling wasn't just a figment of his imagination. There was indeed something touching his shoulder. The voice even sounded from behind his head, even faintly felt like it was behind his ear.
In that moment, Van finally realized that surviving in this place required more than just the basic necessities of a normal human being. Van needed something to keep him safe from the city that continued to haunt him.
"But what should I do? I have almost no memory of how to live in this world from the previous owner. There's only darkness and pain. But nothing strange like this."
Before Van could think of a next step, someone tapped him on the shoulder again and called out to him.
"Hey, what are you doing standing here? You're disturbing the other pedestrians."
This time, Van felt relieved to find a real person tapping him on the shoulder. The language used was no different in words or grammar from Van's previous world.
Remembering that Van couldn't make a sound, he simply bowed his head, making way for the man.
However, instead of continuing on his way, the man stared intently at Van, as if assessing his appearance and innermost being.
"Boy, can't you speak?" he asked, puzzled.
Van, worried that answering him directly with a shake of his head would lead to trouble he didn't want to face, instead began writing on his palm—fortunately, the previous owner of the body saw some words in his memory, which were exactly the same as the writing on Earth.
"I can't speak, but I can write here, sir."
The man was silent for a moment before chuckling softly, "Boy, you call me sir. Are you a slave or something? I'm not a noble, just a commoner."
With a confident expression and a wide smile, the man said, "Soulen, that's my name. I live nearby and just got home from work. How about you come with me?"
Soulen reached out to Van, who responded with a suspicious expression.
"Why would this man take me with him? Is it because I look pitiful, is it because I might be useful because I can write, or is it that he just wants to use my body? I don't want to be a slave anymore. But, it's not like I know what to do after this..."
With his feelings constantly wavering, Van finally took Soulen's outstretched hand. However, he didn't have many options at the moment.