When I woke again, I wasn't in my bed, or even in the void with its floating menus. I was standing on a cobblestone street under the dim flicker of a gas lamp, the air heavy with smoke, dust, and something I couldn't name. My lungs coughed it out like a bad DLC install.
The street stretched ahead, uneven and cracked, lined with stone buildings that had seen better centuries. The signs above the doors were written in English—but the accents of the passersby told me instantly where I was. The clipped syllables, the lingering tone of Hindi beneath the words, the polite but firm "Move aside, sahib"—I was in colonial India.
Not the India from my school textbooks. No, this one hummed with something else. Magic. I didn't see it immediately, but I could feel it, like an update patch installed in the background. A street vendor lifted his hand over a lamp, muttered something, and the flame grew brighter. A boy scratched a chalk rune on a wall, and a rat scurried backward, squeaking in terror. Tiny fragments of sorcery sprinkled the air like Easter eggs in a new expansion pack.
And me? I was just standing there in my 2025 jeans, bloodstains dried at my stomach, and a cracked phone in my pocket.
DING!
A translucent notification slid into my vision like a PowerPoint slide:
[Tutorial Initiated]
Skill Unlocked: Storycraft (Level 1)
— Influence others with persuasive words, believable lies, and compelling speeches.
— Higher levels unlock narrative control and audience manipulation.
Tip: Words shape worlds. Use them wisely… or not.
I blinked. Then blinked again. "So… I'm basically an NPC scammer with extra steps?"
Another notification popped up, smug as hell.
[New Quest Unlocked]
Quest: Find Your Place in This World
Objective: Establish identity in 1920 India.
Reward: +100 XP, Access to Beginner's Inventory
Failure: Homelessness, starvation, or public hanging.
"Right. No pressure."
I tugged my hoodie tighter and started walking. The city didn't care about my existential crisis. Carts clattered over the road. British soldiers in khaki uniforms passed by, rifles slung casually, their boots polished enough to double as mirrors. A couple of Indian men in turbans crossed the street carrying crates of goods. The smell of fried pakoras mixed with coal smoke.
It was dizzying, like walking into an open-world RPG with the graphics cranked up to Ultra.
Step One: Find out if anyone here was gullible enough to believe I belonged.
I sidled toward a stall where a middle-aged merchant was selling newspapers. The front page screamed about rising nationalist movements, but what caught my eye was the language—English and Hindi, printed side by side. Perfect.
"Excuse me," I said, pitching my voice with as much confidence as I could fake. "Could I borrow that paper? I need to… uh, check the classifieds."
The man gave me a suspicious once-over. Right. Twenty-first-century clothes, broken phone, and zero rupees in my pocket didn't exactly scream "respectable gentleman."
Time to test the new skill.
[Skill Activated: Storycraft Lv.1]
Target: Suspicious Merchant
Chance of Success: 42%
Outcome on Failure: Embarrassment + -5 Reputation
"See," I improvised, leaning in conspiratorially, "I've just arrived from Calcutta. My luggage was lost at the station, unbelievable mess. I was told to meet a business associate here, but—well, you know how unreliable telegrams can be." I sighed dramatically, like I was carrying the burden of a thousand inconveniences. "If I don't find the advertisement he placed, I'll be in dreadful trouble."
The merchant squinted. My heart banged like a boss-fight timer.
DING!
[Storycraft Success!]
+10 XP
He huffed, muttered something about "young sahibs with poor luck," and shoved the paper into my hands.
I nearly danced in place. Level one persuasion, baby! Who needed money when you had lies?
Of course, the classifieds weren't going to tell me how to survive in 1920. But now I had something more valuable: proof my skill worked.
The next few hours turned into a personal side quest: Experiment With Lies.
I told a chai seller that I was an inspector testing the quality of his tea leaves. Free cup. +5 XP.
I convinced a kid running errands that I was a tutor new in town. Directions to the library. +8 XP.
I even bluffed a rickshaw driver into giving me a free ride by insisting I'd pay him at the Governor's house. He dropped me off, muttering, but didn't press for coins. +15 XP.
By evening, my HUD flickered again.
[Level Up!]
Skill: Storycraft Lv.2
New Perk Unlocked: Silver Tongue — Slightly increases trust when lying.
XP Required for next level: 200
I grinned like a lunatic. "Oh yeah. This is way better than dying in an alley."
But the euphoria faded when I caught sight of my reflection in a shop window. Same hoodie, same jeans, same confused twenty-something face. I stuck out like a glitching sprite in this sepia-colored expansion pack. If I wanted to survive—really survive—I needed an identity.
And so the real grind began.
Step one was the library. Every game had a codex, right? The library in this city looked ancient and heavy, staffed by clerks who guarded their books like dragons. But with my Silver Tongue perk, I weaved a tale about being a visiting researcher from Bombay, working under a professor. It half-worked: the clerk muttered but gave me access to old newspapers and public records.
I buried myself in them, devouring everything. Dates, names, events. This wasn't exactly the timeline I knew—magic had left scars. Entire provinces had burned in strange wars, artifacts had been seized by the Crown as "classified material," and rebellions whispered not just of freedom but of lost sorceries.
But one pattern became clear: in this colonial India, identity documents were sloppy. Fake letters of introduction, counterfeit passes, even forged seals often went unchecked unless you were unlucky.
"Perfect," I muttered. "Time to craft my first character sheet."
It took me two days of experimenting with penmanship, seals, and copying letterheads from discarded newspapers before I had something passable: a forged letter of recommendation from a fictional Colonel Hugh Barstow, addressed "To Whom It May Concern," vouching for me as an "assistant logistics officer."
When I activated Storycraft and rehearsed the backstory, my HUD chimed:
[Skill Check: Story Weaving Prototype Unlocked]
You may create a plausible background story.
Accuracy: 62%
Believability: +15% with confident delivery.
I could've kissed the notification.
With that letter in my pocket, I approached a small-time trader near the docks. His stall was loaded with spare parts, tools, and crates he clearly wasn't declaring to the taxmen.
"Evening," I said, handing him the letter. "Assistant logistics officer, reassigned from Calcutta. Looking for opportunities to… supplement my income."
The man eyed the paper, then me. "You're far too young."
"War has left us all shorthanded," I said smoothly, voice oiled with Silver Tongue. "Besides, I know how to move goods without them being noticed. And I know people who'd pay well for it."
For a heartbeat, I thought he'd call the bluff.
DING!
[Storycraft Success!]
+25 XP
Reputation Gained: Shady Trader +1
He chuckled and leaned closer. "You might be useful after all, sahib. Come back tomorrow night. Bring no one."
And just like that, the tutorial quest clicked complete in my HUD.
[Quest Complete: Find Your Place in This World]
Rewards: +100 XP, Beginner's Inventory Unlocked
Items Received:
— Rusty Revolver (Condition: Poor)
— 20 Rupees
— Beginner's Journal (Quest Log)
I opened my inventory and nearly cried. A gun, some money, and a notebook. My first loot drop in 1920.
"Okay," I whispered, clenching the revolver. "I guess this is how the grind begins."
The HUD flickered, as if agreeing.
[New Quest Unlocked]
Quest: Build Your Reputation
Objective: Establish connections in the underground market.
Reward: +200 XP, Access to Smugglers' Circle
Failure: Permanent Game Over.
My heart thumped. Not because I was scared, but because for the first time in my life, I felt like I wasn't just reading a story.
I was living one.
And I was going to cheat the hell out of it.