"Fucking hell."
The words that left Julien's mouth were the only way he could explain the sights, in front of him.
He thought he had transmigrated to a world where magic and technology shaped the entire planet–where one couldn't exist without the other.
A world where something as simple as a lamp light needed magic to keep it from dying out.
A world with floating cars, skyrails and giants aircrafts that rely solely on the power of the magic cores he read so many times about.
And why wouldn't he think that?
The apartment he woke up in was pretty modern.
It had electricity–he remembered switching on the lights when he woke up–a fridge, and there was even a tv.
Both him and the girl was using magic.
And he remember when he read one of the titles from the system–The Exiled Heir–he got 10 000 000 Unicreds as a reward.
When he didn't see the money anywhere, he thought that maybe it was in a credit that was lying around in the apartment somewhere and he could just withdraw the money from an atm or swipe the card.
So, yeah, it was pretty valid reasons for him to think like that.
But, instead what greeted him... was the slums.
Yep, that's right.
The slums.
"Are we in the fucking slums right now?"
Bewildered, he asked the girl standing next to him.
"Yep, this the slums alright."
Gizelle didn't look at him, kept her gaze out toward the slums. She didn't know why, but she enjoyed seeing him in such a state.
Julien turned his attention back to the surroundings, as if to affirm he wasn't seeing illusions.
But, no, he wasn't.
The morning sun bore down on the place, making evrything clear to see, leaving no doubts about ones surroundings.
The cramped, worn wooden structures–sorry excuses for homes.
The gravel streets–filled with trash and rodents as big as fully grown cats. There were damp spots all over the streets, clearly that not water.
The people–malnourished, dressed in rags. They looked devoid of life, already lost hope of of ever making it out of this cesspool.
From where he stood, Julien could see a boy–barely older than 5–scurrying for something to eat in a hill of trash.
On the other side of the hill was a little girl, biting into a rat.
Not very far from the little girl–on the same trash hill–was a dead body, packed with worms that already ate most of the rotten flesh.
He looked away, disgusted despite himself.
"Which way to the Vampire continent?" He asked Gizelle.
He didn't know if there was a vampire continent, but at that moment he didn't care, he just wanted to get the hell out of here.
Gizelle pointed west.
Julien wasted no time, hurrying toward the elevator.
But then he stopped when realization hit him.
"Why are you here?"
Anyone could tell that Gizelle was out place here.
How clean she was, how well-fed she looked compare to the others here, the way she carried herself, and her strength.
All telltale signs that she was out of her element here.
'Wait. What am I doing here?'
Julien's presence here was also a mystery.
Shit, he was a Prince, for fuck sake.
People like him don't come here often, if ever.
And even though he was exiled, he knew that the money he had was enough to get a decent dwelling anywhere in this world.
So the question was:
Why the hell was the original owner of this body here?
But the original owner was dead, so now, he will never know.
'Maybe he came here for that very reason. To die.'
Julien was brought out of his thoughts by Gizelle's voice.
"I could ask you the same question. But that would be futile, considering your... circumstances."
She scanned him up and down, putting heavy emphasis on that last word, clearly still sceptical about him losing his memories.
"And the reason I'm here, is because these..." her gaze shifted to the slums "...these are my people."
Her voice was barely audible, but with his enhanced senses, Julien heard it loud and clear. He also picked up a note of sorrow and helplessness in her voice.
Driven by curiosity, Julien voice his thoughts. "Than why aren't you helping them?"
"That's precisely why I'm here.
Every few months, a horde of goblins attack this place. The people here stand no chance against them, they are nothing but easy prey.
Every time they come, we loose at least one hundred people. Women, children, men, elderly–the goblins don't discriminate.
Some of the people are slaughtered for sport, others for food, and a few women and children dragged away to be bred."
Her eyes met mine, fist clenched in sorrow, helplessness, anger, and determination.
"So, whenever it's time for the horde to strike: I come here. To protect the people, to fight for them. But..."
"...but it's not enough." Julien finished her sentence, surprising her. But her surprise deepend when he continued speaking.
"Even if you eradicate the horde, even if you spare them a ending at the hands of gobins, it doesn't change the fact that they're still hungry, still sick, still cold, still dying.
And you said that they are your people, so that means that you sre a noble. The child of a baron or viscount?
And since it's the duty of nobles to protect and feed their subjects, you are doing horrendous job.
Protecting them is just doing the bare minimum, barely anything to worth a mention."
Julien leaned over the building, looked down, to the entrance of the building.
"And I also don't see anyone else with you, and if you take that and the state of this place into account; one can conclude that your house lacks both manpower and resources to make a difference."
The bluntness of his word stung, but more than that, Gizelle was surprised that he could deduce that much information from just a few words she said.
She put him in a new light, and also made a mental note not to talk too much around him.
At first she made one to remind her not to mention too much, but now seeing that something like that won't work, she opted to shut up entirely.
Something that Julien will not be happy about.
Seeing that Gizelle were lost in her thoughts, Julien decided to break the silence.
"Anyways, let me help."
"I don't need your help. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of this myself." She denied without hesitation.
Gizelle loathed asking for help, especially from a stranger.
Hearing her firm denial, Julien decided to change his approach.
"I didn't mean to frame it like that. I meant that, since I lost my memories, that means I forgot how to fight too.
So, this fight could help those muscle memories kick in.
And since you're so strong, you could save me whenever I'm in danger of losing my life."
Gizelle crossed her arms in front of her chest–slightly pushing up her breast–still not liking the idea of sharing a battlefield with Julien.
"And why would I do that?"
"Think of it as repaying me for saving your life." Julien replied with a smug grin, sneaking peeks at her chest.
"I thought I already repaid that favor, by answering your questions." She was not backing down.
"You didn't even answer a single one of my questions." Julien replied.
"I did. I told you my name, why exactly I am here, and why I'm helping these people." Bringing up every instance se remembered Julien asking a question.
Clearly she'd been keeping score.
"First of all, I didn't ask for your name, that was an introduction.
And secondly, I wasn't asking you questions, we were having a conversation.
That doesn't count." Julien countered, crossing his arms in front of his bare chest.
"It doesn't work like that! You still asked–
You know what? Fine. You win. Have it your way."
Gizelle gave up, she realized that engaging in conversation with him was hard work, and he always find ways to work her up.
Meanwhile Julien just had a smug grin when he saw her throw in the towel.