Nestled deep within a quiet mountain range lay a small village known as Moonlight Village. It did not appear on the kingdom's official maps—only as a tiny dot remembered by the few travelers who happened to pass by. Its charm, however, came not from its location, but from the warmth of its atmosphere and the peaceful lives of the people who lived within the valley.
In the early morning, the village echoed with the crowing of roosters and the laughter of children running along the dirt roads. Every house was built from timber taken from the deep forest, with thick straw roofs to endure the harsh winters. The cold season here was far more unforgiving than anyone expected, yet the villagers always stood strong and supported one another.
By midday, sunlight streamed between the mountains, reflecting off the rice fields and the narrow streams winding around the village. Some men ventured into the forest to hunt, while women gathered herbs or carried water from the spring. Young children helped their mothers tend to goats and sheep. It was a simple life—quiet, modest, but deeply meaningful.
And at night… the entire village basked in moonlight so bright that everyone believed, "The moonlight protects us." The name Moonlight Village was not chosen lightly; it was a belief passed down for generations.
The heart of the village was not a church or town hall, but The Rabbit's Inn—a two-story wooden building at the center of the settlement. The upper floor offered simple rooms for travelers, while the lower floor served as a tavern and village restaurant.
Tonight was no different. The tavern below bustled with laughter. Long wooden tables were filled with men and women returning from the fields and barns. The aroma of beef stew and freshly baked bread filled the air. At one table, glasses clinked loudly—clink!—followed by bursts of cheerful laughter.
"Hey, Peter! My beer's empty! Give me another!" boomed a deep voice from the corner. It belonged to Thomson, a broad-shouldered fisherman with a thick beard and a smile so warm that no child in the village feared him.
"Alright, Thomson," replied Peter, the innkeeper and my father, as he walked toward the oak barrel resting against the wall.
Peter was a sturdy middle-aged man, once an adventurer in his younger days. His hair had begun to show strands of white, but his eyes remained sharp—those of a man who never backed down. He tilted the barrel with practiced ease, amber beer rushing into the mug until the foam nearly spilled over. He handed it to the customer.
"This is the last mug for tonight. If I open another barrel, none of you will make it home to your wives and children," he chuckled.
"Oh, come on, Peter! Opening one more won't hurt! We'll help you empty it—ha ha ha!" Thomson slapped the table, and his friends roared with laughter.
But before Peter could reply, the wooden door behind the counter creaked open.
"Dad!" A fourteen-year-old boy stepped out—the boy who was, in fact, me.
Everyone here called me Arthur.But the truth is… I was once Lamun, a small restaurant owner from Bangkok who had been reincarnated into this world of magic and mystical creatures.
"Mom said if you open another barrel for Uncle Thomson, you'll be sleeping downstairs tonight. It's past midnight already. Time to close the tavern." I delivered Mom's message with full seriousness.
Laughter erupted from Thomson's table. "Hahaha! The boy's got authority!"
Peter sighed with a helpless smile. "See that, Thomson? If I dare open another barrel, I'll be exiled to the floor tonight."
"Fine, fine! We'll stop here for tonight!" Thomson conceded, then added with a grin, "But tomorrow… I'll make you open even more!"
The tavern shook with laughter once more before the last guests finally headed home.
After everyone left, the three of us—Dad, Mom, and I—cleaned the tables, washed the dishes, and extinguished the lamps.
Sara, my mother, was a gentle woman with reddish-brown hair. Graceful yet strong, she managed both the household and the restaurant effortlessly. She always smiled, though her eyes were sharp enough to make Peter listen every time.
As I lifted a chair onto a table, my eyes drifted toward the window. The moonlight bathed the silent dirt roads. Small wooden houses lined the street, and at the corner floated a magical lantern—enchanted light created by the adults in the village, replacing street lamps.
I let out a quiet sigh… This world was unlike my old one.Back in Bangkok, I lived among skyscrapers, traffic jams, and noise.Here, everything was wood, stone, and the smell of soil after rain.
Yet… I didn't dislike it at all.
"Good night, Arthur," Mom said as she gently brushed my hair.
"Good night, Mom," I replied, smiling as I headed into my small room.
My room held only a wooden bed, a tiny desk, and an oil lamp. Nothing luxurious—yet somehow warmer than the cramped condo room I once lived in back in Bangkok.
I sat down on the bed, thinking about the differences between the two worlds. In my old life, I struggled with rent, electricity bills, and customers complaining about food prices.In this world, my biggest worry was… "Will Dad open another beer barrel?"Such a strangely peaceful life.
Of course, I had wondered why I was reincarnated here. Others who were brought to new worlds often received a "system" to help them. But me? After fourteen long years, I had never seen a trace of one.
I had already accepted that maybe… I simply didn't have a system.
But then—
Ding!!!
A clear chime echoed inside my head.A translucent panel popped up before my eyes.
[System: Welcome, Lamun, to the world of magic and mystical beasts.]
I froze for a moment… then sighed.
"What? After fourteen years, now you show up?" I yawned, waving my hand dismissively. "Go away. We'll talk tomorrow. I'm sleeping."
I blew out the lamp and lay down, ignoring the glowing interface.
[System: … Processing …]
It seemed eager to say more, but nothing mattered to me more than sleep tonight.
And this… was the beginning of my new adventure in this world.