Morgan stopped at the corner of a narrow street, where a suffocating stench of rotten food made him frown involuntarily. There, he noticed a group of five people standing close together, speaking in low voices, until one of them spotted Morgan from afar.
The man's eyes widened suddenly, and he raised his hand, pointing a trembling finger at Morgan. His friends noticed his shaking before turning to see what he was pointing at. As soon as their eyes fell on Morgan, their faces went pale, and they froze in place.
The thin man spoke in a trembling voice: "He… he's alive."
A man whose face was covered with several noticeable scars stepped forward and spoke in a sharp tone:
"What nonsense are you talking, you fool? I'm sure he's dead. I checked his pulse myself at the time… he wasn't breathing."
The thin man nodded in agreement, hesitated for a moment, and then said:
"Boss… I believe you, but who is standing in front of us now? It can't be just an illusion, right?"
Another person, who seemed to be the smartest among them, intervened:
"It could just be someone who looks like him. You know, the world is vast. Or maybe someone disguised as him… or—"
He paused briefly, then lowered his voice:
"Or it could be a vengeful spirit returned to take revenge on us."
As soon as the thin man heard this, he trembled in terror, turned suddenly, and started running as fast as he could. The scar-faced man shouted after him, watching him flee:
"You rat! Stop right now, or I'll kill you!"
But the thin man did not stop. After a moment, the scar-faced man understood what the smart man had said, and his expression shifted to outright panic, and he too began to run. The rest of the group followed one by one, clearly realizing the situation only belatedly. As they fled, the scar-faced man repeatedly shouted: "Oh gods, please protect me from that evil spirit!"
As for Morgan, he remained standing in place, staring at their behavior with a blank expression, observing them run in a strange manner while their eyes remained fixed on him without looking at the path ahead.
Once they had gone far enough, Morgan exhaled calmly and muttered:
"What are these fools doing? Are they acting out a scene from a comedy movie?"
He shook his head lightly, then turned and continued on his way.
"They really are a bunch of mindless people… I hope I never meet them again."
Morgan suddenly stopped walking, frowning in deep thought.
Where would he go now?
Before his thought could be completed, the soft sound of his stomach made itself known, clear enough to break the chain of his thoughts. Morgan then exhaled slowly and smiled faintly, murmuring to himself:
"Let's postpone thinking about the future for a bit… the most important thing now is to find something to eat."
He began carefully sorting through Charlon's memories until he finally found what he was looking for: the location of the market. Without hesitation, he changed direction and headed there immediately. The market wasn't far—just a few steps away—so Morgan continued walking at a slightly faster pace.
As he approached, a wave of overlapping voices engulfed him:
"Come and try our grilled meats, delicious and irresistible!"
"Hot, fresh beet soup! Drink a bowl in the morning and feel energized all day!"
"Amber fruit! Come try it, and you'll go straight to heaven!"
"Fermented berry and margarine juice! One sip and you won't stop!"
"Chicken! Fresh chicken!"
"Fresh vegetables picked straight from the farm, and at a bargain price! Buy now and get an extra for free!"
The street vendors shouted along the street, displaying their vegetables, fruits, and hot foods, trying to tempt hurried passersby. Some people stopped to inspect the goods carefully before buying, while others waved their hands impatiently and moved on, simply because they didn't have enough money.
Morgan took a deep breath, his eyes shining with hunger as he looked around. He wanted to rush forward immediately and devour everything he could lay his hands on, but the harsh truth was… he had no money.
He stood in place, thinking about what he could do, his eyes scanning the faces of the vendors, unconsciously searching for someone who looked kinder than the rest. His gaze settled on an old man, who appeared to be in his late fifties or early sixties.
"Ah… this person seems suitable. His features are kind… maybe he'll give me some food."
Morgan approached him cautiously, stepping carefully until he stood directly in front of the cart. The old man was busy at first, so Morgan remained quietly in place, staring at the hot dishes in front of him. The smell of the fresh food wafted to his nose and clung to his throat, making his mouth water involuntarily.
After a few moments, the old man finally noticed him. As soon as his eyes fell on Morgan, his expression changed suddenly, and his features tightened sharply.
"What are you doing here, thief? Are you trying to rob me again? I won't allow it this time!"
Morgan froze for a fraction of a second, then shook his head quickly, raising his hands in denial.
"No, no! I'm not here to steal from you, sir, I swear. I just… need a little food."
But the old man's frown darkened further, and his tone grew harsher:
"You won't fool me this time. Go away before I hit you."
At that moment, Morgan's mind raced at full speed. He had to find a way to get food before being kicked out. Charlon's memories surged into his mind suddenly.
This old man… was named Arbin.
And he was known among the neighborhood residents for a peculiar habit: if someone came to him with a riddle they couldn't solve, he would give them a full meal for free.
Morgan's eyes widened slightly, then he lifted his head confidently, looking at Arbin:
"Hmm… Mr. Arbin, I have a riddle for you."
For a brief moment, Arbin's face brightened with a hint of interest, before the frown returned as he growled:
"Is it like those stupid riddles you gave me last time?"
Morgan shook his head quickly, denying it:
"No, this is different."
Then he took a short breath:
"Tell me… was the orange named for its color being orange, or was the color orange named because it resembles the orange fruit?"
As soon as Morgan finished his question, Arbin stared at him blankly for a few seconds before placing his hand on his chin and thinking deeply.
Meanwhile, Morgan laughed inwardly. You'll never solve this… I've searched the internet and never found an answer.
Moments passed before Arbin exhaled slowly and said in a low voice:
"I don't know the answer… take whatever food you want."
At that moment, Morgan felt overwhelming joy. He hurriedly grabbed as much food as he could for free, trying to hide his smile. As he turned to leave, he heard Arbin's voice from behind him:
"Wait… can you tell me the answer?"
Morgan stopped, then turned to him slowly, a faint smile appearing on his lips:
"I refuse."
Then he walked on, leaving the old man standing there…
Morgan finally reached a slightly dilapidated street corner, but compared to the other places, it was much better. He had spent nearly twenty minutes moving through narrow alleys, searching for a relatively clean spot where he could eat his meal comfortably and without feeling disgusted.
When he found this corner, he felt a sense of relief. He sat down quietly, leaning against the wall, and finally took out his food.
He took a piece of meat, and as soon as he put it in his mouth, he felt the juices flow slowly, mingling with a warm flavor he had never expected. He paused for a moment, then his eyes widened in surprise… delicious.
He had never imagined the food could be of such quality, and without realizing it, he began eating quickly, piece after piece. Each bite was better than the one before.
Suddenly, he felt a slight burn in his eyes, and a single tear silently rolled down his cheek. He didn't try to wipe it away, but said softly:
"So this is what real food tastes like…"
He remembered how he used to prepare his own meals. Bad cooking, yet he forced himself to eat it. He endured it only because he remembered his mother's words always advising him:
"Don't rely too much on fast food; learn to take care of yourself."
The result had been a daily struggle. But now… he felt alive, finally.
Morgan finished all his food, leaving nothing behind. When he was done, he felt a slight fullness in his stomach and smiled wearily:
"So this is what food is… nothing less."
After satisfying his hunger, his mind gradually began to return to thinking. What would he do now?
His goal had been clear from the start: to return to his world.
And the only way was to perform those strange rituals, but he didn't know the substance they had mixed…
Thus, he couldn't do anything at the moment.
First, he needed a place to spend the night… at least.
"Is there any work I can do? A job that pays well?"
He began reviewing what he could do, lost in thought, moving without paying attention to his surroundings… until he suddenly collided with something.
Morgan fell backward, groaning in pain, thinking he had hit a wall or an iron pole. He got up slowly, placing his hand on his head where a slight swelling was beginning to appear.
"I should have been more careful… I almost smashed my head in that collision."
But as soon as he lifted his head, he froze in place. It wasn't a wall in front of him… it was a person.
A man in his mid-twenties, tall, with jet-black hair falling down the back of his head, his features calm, his eyes dark yet with a faint yellow tint that intensified his gaze and gave it a strange, hard-to-ignore feeling.
Realizing he had bumped into a real person, Morgan immediately jolted and leaned his body slightly in a quick apologetic motion:
"I-I'm sorry, sir, I wasn't paying attention to what was in front of me. Please forgive me."
The man didn't respond immediately, instead staring at him with a cold gaze that made Morgan feel a bit of tension and fear creeping into his chest. His breathing quickened without him noticing…
Then, unexpectedly, a slight smile appeared on the man's face.
"Don't worry, it's not a big deal. I should have been more careful too."
Morgan exhaled in relief and was about to leave after bowing slightly out of respect, but the man's voice stopped him before he could walk away.
"Hmm… excuse me, could you point me to a nearby hotel? I seem a bit lost."
Morgan paused and looked at him.
"And why are you asking me? Do I look like a tour guide to you?"
But he didn't say it out loud. He simply shrugged calmly, then pointed his hand in a direction, saying:
"Go that way, then turn right. You'll find a street on your right—enter it… you'll find a hotel there."
The man's face brightened a little, and he quickly extended his hand to shake Morgan's.
"Thank you for your help. I'm really tired. I'll repay this favor next time we meet."
Then he walked away quickly, gradually disappearing… Morgan stared at his back for a few moments before shaking his head lightly and returning to his thoughts.
Night had already fallen, while Morgan had spent the entire day lost in thought, trying to find anything he could do, but all his attempts had failed; he wasn't truly skilled at anything. He had spent most of his time reading novels, never giving himself a chance to learn something practical—and he didn't regret it. He justified it instead:
"Why should I waste my time learning useless things, when I can read web novels whenever I want?"
For that reason, he didn't feel sorry… at least, not at that time.
But as night came, the air grew colder. His body began shaking uncontrollably; the place he stood in was nothing more than an abandoned street. He suddenly realized how desperate his situation was. He had literally become like a beggar.
He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to warm himself, muttering curses under his breath:
"Why did I incarnate in the body of a poor person? At least if I were in the body of a rich person… I'd be living comfortably, surrounded by money on every side."
Morgan stood there, shivering uncontrollably, until he suddenly felt a strange sensation in his hands. It was as if they were placed over a blazing fire.
The heat intensified… second by second. He looked at his hands quickly, his heart pounding, to see something unnatural happening before his eyes.
His eyes widened as he muttered in worry:
"W-what is happening to my arms?"
Jagged, irregular lines appeared on his skin, intertwining without pattern, with a dense black spot in the center, surrounded by dark red edges, and slowly, mysterious characters began to form.
Morgan felt unbearable pain; each passing second made the burning sensation intensify until he felt as if his hands were completely on fire.
Then… the pain spread to the rest of his body.
He felt as if he were being burned alive. He gritted his teeth, gasping in fragmented breaths. This torment lasted nearly a full minute. He was on the verge of losing consciousness, believing the end had come—but the pain—suddenly—stopped.
Morgan collapsed, panting, trying to gradually catch his breath. After a few moments of heavy silence, he slowly raised his head and looked at his hands again…