The metal beast smelled like leather and stale coffee.
The back seat wasn't locked.
I noticed that immediately.
Either they trusted me.
Or they didn't think I was capable of being a threat.
I wasn't sure which irritated me more.
The city changed as we drove.
Steel towers gradually gave way to shorter buildings. Brick replaced glass. Then came rows of houses, each sitting neatly beside the next.
Equal spacing. Identical lawns.
A strange kind of order.
It wasn't the order of mountains or rivers, shaped by nature over centuries. It was imposed. Measured. Repeated.
No sect gates.
No walls.
No banners.
If this was a territory, its hierarchy was remarkably well hidden.
The engine hummed quietly beneath us.
No sirens.
No urgency.
Just a transfer.
I was beginning to feel less like a mysterious stranger from another world and more like a parcel someone had been instructed to deliver before dinner.
I wasn't sure whether that was reassuring.
The officer driving glanced at me through the rearview mirror.
I pretended not to notice.
There wasn't much point in talking yet. My vocabulary consisted of a handful of words and several gestures. Silence was easier.
So I watched.
The houses grew larger.
The streets quieter.
Eventually, the car stopped.
A two-story house stood ahead of us.
Cream walls. Dark shutters. A porch light already glowing despite the sun not having fully disappeared.
Someone was waiting.
The front door opened before the officer had even reached it.
A man stepped outside first.
Tall.
Straight posture. Sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms.
He wasn't a warrior. At least, not the kind I knew.
Still, there was something disciplined about him. The way he stood. The way his eyes moved.
A man accustomed to keeping things in order.
A woman appeared beside him.
Her concern was obvious.
She didn't try to hide it.
And then—
A girl.
Around my age.
Her arms were loosely folded as she looked at me.
Not pity.
Not fear.
Curiosity.
That was better.
The officer opened the door.
Cold air touched my face.
I stepped out.
The man extended his hand.
He stopped halfway.
Perhaps he remembered that I didn't understand him.
His hand lowered, and he settled for a nod.
I returned it.
"Welcome," he said.
I recognized that word.
Welcome.
The woman pointed to herself.
"Emily."
Then the man.
"David."
Finally, the girl.
"Claire."
Claire raised a hand.
"Hey."
Her tone was casual.
No forced smile. No careful voice meant for frightened children.
Good.
The officer cleared his throat.
"All the paperwork's been processed. Temporary placement. Case worker checks in once a week."
David nodded.
"Understood."
Weekly supervision.
That seemed reasonable.
The officer looked at me one last time.
For a moment, his expression changed.
Less official.
More human.
"Good luck, kid."
Luck.
I wasn't sure I liked the word.
Still, I nodded.
The car drove away.
No ceremony.
No crowd.
Just another responsibility passed from one person to another.
I turned toward the house.
Emily smiled.
"We know this must be overwhelming," she said slowly. "We'll take it one step at a time."
I caught perhaps half of it.
Overwhelming.
Step.
Time.
I could work with that.
Claire tilted her head.
"So... serious question."
She pointed toward the house.
"Fork—yes? Or do we need emergency chopstick protocol?"
Emily closed her eyes.
"Claire."
"What?"
"He's had a very difficult day."
"Exactly. I'm trying to prepare him."
I looked past them.
A strange metal object rested beside several plates.
Four prongs.
A handle.
I understood its purpose after a moment.
A fork.
I had fought people stronger than myself.
I had endured broken ribs.
I had once spent three days surviving on half a bowl of rice.
And now I was standing in front of a family wondering whether I knew how to use a fork.
For some reason, that almost made me laugh.
Almost.
"I... learn."
The words came out awkwardly.
Claire blinked.
Then smiled.
"Okay. Cool."
That was it.
No laughter.
No teasing.
Just acceptance.
Something in my chest loosened.
I didn't know what to do with that feeling, so I ignored it.
Emily stepped aside.
"Come in."
I crossed the threshold.
Warm air touched my face.
Then came the smell.
Garlic.
Butter.
Something baked.
It was nothing like the incense, old wood, and cold tea that filled the sect halls I knew.
It smelled...
Lived in.
Wooden floors stretched through the hallway.
Photographs covered one wall.
People I didn't know smiled from them.
Children became teenagers.
Teenagers became adults.
There were birthdays. Trips. Holidays.
Years of ordinary moments preserved in little rectangles.
I stopped without meaning to.
In my world, continuity had to be defended.
Here, it seemed to accumulate by itself.
Emily noticed me looking.
"Family photos."
I nodded.
I understood that much.
She pointed toward a mat.
"You can leave your shoes there."
I removed them.
The floorboards barely made a sound beneath my feet.
I looked down.
The construction was good.
Solid.
Clean.
Warm.
I wasn't sure why that surprised me.
Maybe I had expected the modern world to be colder.
It wasn't.
Not everywhere, at least.
Claire was still watching me.
She hadn't said anything for several seconds.
Finally, she asked, "Do you remember anything?"
Emily immediately looked at her.
"Claire."
"What? He doesn't have to answer."
I glanced at the girl.
She wasn't being cruel.
Just curious.
"I don't know."
The sentence came easily.
Too easily.
Claire nodded.
"Right."
She didn't press further.
That surprised me.
David stepped aside and gestured toward the staircase.
"Your room is upstairs."
He said the next part slowly.
"You can make it your own."
My room.
I looked at him.
He repeated it.
"Yours."
The word felt strange.
In my world, a room was something you earned.
Or borrowed.
Or fought for.
A place to sleep was enough.
A place that belonged to you was another matter.
I nodded.
"Thank you."
The words were clumsy, but understandable.
Emily's expression softened.
David simply nodded.
Claire pointed toward the stairs.
"Come on. I'll show you."
She started walking.
I followed.
The staircase curved gently along the wall.
No ancestral tablets.
No cultivation diagrams.
No spirit lamps.
Only photographs.
At the top was a small hallway with three doors.
Claire opened the one at the end.
"This one's yours."
The room was simple.
A bed.
A desk.
A lamp.
A wardrobe.
A window.
Nothing extravagant.
Nothing particularly impressive.
I stared at it for several seconds.
It was more than enough.
Claire leaned against the doorway.
"If you need anything, just ask."
I looked at her.
There were many things I could have asked.
What was this country?
How did their machines work?
Why was there no Qi?
How powerful were their strongest humans?
What was the history of this world?
Instead, the first thing that came to mind was much simpler.
"Food?"
Claire stared.
Then laughed.
"Yeah. Dinner."
She disappeared down the hallway.
"Mom! He's hungry!"
"I'm not deaf!"
"I didn't say you were!"
Their voices faded downstairs.
I remained in the room.
Alone.
For once, alone did not mean abandoned.
I sat on the edge of the bed.
The mattress sank beneath me.
Soft.
Too soft.
I pressed my palm into it.
It gave way immediately.
I almost frowned.
Then I lay back.
The ceiling was plain white.
No spiritual formations.
No cracks.
No threat.
Nothing.
I had spent years learning how to sleep lightly.
How to wake at footsteps.
How to recognize hostile breathing through a wall.
How to keep one hand close enough to defend myself.
Here, there was only the faint sound of people moving downstairs.
Plates.
Cabinets.
Someone laughing.
I closed my eyes.
The sound continued.
I listened.
For some reason, I didn't feel like sleeping anymore.
A knock came at the door.
I opened my eyes.
Claire stood there.
"Dinner."
I sat up.
"Coming."
The word was easier this time.
She smiled.
"You're learning fast."
I followed her downstairs.
At the dining table, Emily was already setting out plates.
David was pouring water.
Nobody asked me to prove anything.
Nobody asked what I could cultivate.
Nobody cared whether I was talented.
They simply made room.
I sat down.
The food was placed in front of me.
I looked at it.
Then at them.
Then back at the food.
Something about the whole situation felt more dangerous than it should have.
Not because I sensed killing intent.
There wasn't any.
Not because I sensed Qi.
There wasn't any of that either.
It was dangerous for another reason.
It was comfortable.
I didn't know how long it would last.
I didn't know whether this world would eventually reject me the way the last one had.
But for tonight—
There was food.
There was a roof.
And there were people who had made room for me without asking what I could give them in return.
I picked up the fork.
Claire watched.
I held it incorrectly.
She stared.
I stared back.
She slowly reached over and adjusted my grip.
"Like this."
I looked at my hand.
Then at her.
"...Oh."
Claire smiled.
"See? Easy."
Easy.
I wasn't used to that word.
I tried the fork again.
This time, it worked.
Outside the window, the unfamiliar city continued to move.
Cars passed in the distance.
Lights appeared one by one.
Somewhere far away, sirens rose and faded.
A world without Qi.
A world without sects.
A world that knew nothing about cultivation.
I still had no idea why I was here.
I still had no idea what had happened when the lightning struck.
And sooner or later, I would need answers.
But not tonight.
Tonight, I had somewhere to sit.
For the first time in a very long while—
That was enough.