Hmm… that went better than I expected. I thought I would meet some big players—the kind actors on shows like to call it.
I had almost resolved myself to join the king's guard, stab Aerys Targaryen in the back, sleep with the queen, and then join the Night's Watch. A solid plan, I must say.
Thankfully, none of that happened. I'm not caught up in some political shitstorm.
I'm not some nerd who plays games all day. I'm a second‑year college student with a part‑time job, and I read my fair share of fanfiction. So if I had killed the king and Rhaegar Targaryen became king… problem solved, right?
No. Wrong.
Even if Rhaegar took the throne, things wouldn't necessarily get better; they could get worse. I need to stay away from the main figures to make sure the timeline doesn't go wild. If it does, I'll lose the only armor I have: the knowledge of the future.
Oh shit—damn. I almost forgot about Varys and his spiders. That man has spies everywhere.
I loved his character the most, but now I'm caught in his web, and that makes me very uncomfortable.
I haven't stopped stalking children yet. How would I even know if they were spies?
Even the walls have ears… okay, I'm being paranoid.
Damn it—I forgot about Rolf again.
I have to ask him about an inn where I can stay the night, get some real rest, and wash up.
"Rolf," I said, "I need to ask you something. But first I need sleep and rest. Do you have a good recommendation?"
He grinned. "Heh. As I can see, you're a ser, and we're going there first. Also, we'll pass by the Street of Silk—buy some clothes for you. I guess you don't have any, and my clothes won't fit you."
Great. This guy is a godsend and very useful.
I need to strengthen our relationship because I don't know how to behave in this world yet.
Rolf kept teasing me like we'd known each other for years. "Don't call me 'Sir,'" he said. "Just call me Alan. And today you're taking me to an inn, not to your home. I don't want to bother your family, but if you insist, I won't refuse your hospitality. Please—take some reward money as well. We both helped subdue those outlaws."
He laughed. "I'm not that poor, ser. You staying in one piece is reward enough. Oh, and we're not going to my house—we're going to an inn owned by my relatives. My house doesn't have a bed big enough for you."
He's a jolly character, isn't he? We talked and joked for the rest of the day. Maybe he thinks we're friends because I saved his life. To be honest, I'm taking advantage of him, and that doesn't make me a good person.
I'm not a bad person, and I never have been.
This new body of mine screams chivalry and honor: fight for what's right, protect the innocent, defend the weak, punish the guilty. Maybe that's a side effect of inhabiting this body.
Sometimes it feels like I'm invading someone else's mind. It's like I'm myself and someone else at the same time. Rolf, one of the least important people in my life, keeps telling me to do this or that. I'm trying to be free of that.
Anyway, I'm still looking for kids who might be spying on me. How would I know? Everyone is looking at me.
I need a helmet right now—everyone's staring, and it's making me blush.
From a distance the city looks great. Up close… well, it's just a big, messy mass from an undisciplined era. It's dirty and smells horrible.
There are too many beggars in the streets, though there are wealthy people too. The poor survive on what the better‑off throw away.
I'm not talking about nobles with castles; they don't cook or eat like that. I mean the traders, craftsmen, artists, and travelers—people who aren't truly wealthy either.
If the winters here are as harsh as they say, half of these people will die from hunger and cold. I've never experienced anything like that. It terrifies me.
I came from a different world just two days ago. Accepting that fact is still very disturbing.
I lived in a developing nation where people don't suffer from food shortages or lack of clothing. Seeing this much suffering among ordinary people disturbs me greatly. I keep thinking: what if I had come to this world in my original body?
Just the thought sends a chill through me.
If I think about it, I wasn't unhealthy—about 5'8". Not short by my country's standards. I would have drowned in this armor, and a bandit's slash would have been a joke against me.
So thank God for this gift. I swear I won't convert to any religion of this world—that's a promise.
Well, it's time for some rest. We finished our shopping and bought ready‑made clothes that fit me.