Underneath The Storyline

After walking around for a few hours, Asahin had gathered a few observations about this world. First, people here loved food just as much as those in his original world. After visiting several restaurants, dessert shops, and coffee houses, he noticed something peculiar—the food was nearly identical to what he had eaten before. Whether it was the pastries, the seasoned meats, or even the types of bread, it was all the same. Apparently, his sister hadn't been very imaginative in culinary creativity while crafting Varrunna.

Well, if he thought about it, she hadn't been all that creative in many aspects of this world's construction. Asahin wasn't sure whether he should feel relieved or irritated about that. It meant he wouldn't be able to introduce any new, innovative ideas from his previous world to make money. He had briefly considered the idea of revolutionizing cuisine here—introducing dishes or flavors unknown to this world—but there was nothing he could contribute that wasn't already present. A wasted opportunity.

And that wasn't even the worst of it. Since he had a physically weak body, any form of strenuous labor was out of the question. That immediately ruled out jobs in construction or warehouse work. He had done some woodwork before—crafting furniture and small decorative pieces—but even that had required a level of strength he no longer possessed.

Perhaps delivery work? A café job? Those options depended entirely on where he chose to settle down. But even if he found an ideal job, there was another issue—crowds. Asahin struggled in crowded places. His body would react terribly—his chest tightening, his limbs feeling leaden, his breath becoming shallow. It wasn't a psychological issue; it was physical. His damaged pheromone glands had thrown his body into a delicate imbalance, and no amount of mental conditioning could fix that.

Asahin sighed, dragging a hand through his white-blond hair. "Yeah, this life isn't going to be easy."

With the summer sun high in the sky, the heat weighed on him. He stopped by a small stand and bought himself an ice cream—a small luxury that momentarily distracted him from his bleak thoughts. As he walked toward a park he had spotted through the taxi window earlier, he let the cold treat melt on his tongue, savoring its sweetness. It was something familiar, at least.

By the time he reached the park, his ice cream was gone, but now he was thirsty. He hadn't changed much in that regard—eating ice cream always left him parched. He scanned his surroundings, eyes flicking over families lounging on blankets, children running across the grass, couples strolling under the shade of trees. Then, he spotted something interesting—a vending machine nestled beneath the branches of a large tree. It struck him as odd. He had never seen one placed so naturally within a park before.

Shrugging, he approached it and pulled out his wallet. Thankfully, some of the bills he carried were usable here. He was just about to insert a note when a hand suddenly clamped around his wrist.

"Hello there, little beauty."

Asahin flinched at the sickly sweet voice, his head snapping up. A tall, lanky man stood before him, dressed in dark clothes, sunglasses hiding his eyes. The grin stretched across his face made Asahin's stomach turn.

He instinctively yanked his arm back, but the man tightened his grip.

"Don't be scared, little beauty. All I want is your wallet and phone."

For a moment, Asahin just stared at him. Was this actually happening? He was being mugged—on his second day in this world?

His first instinct was to fight back. His pride demanded it.

"I don't think so," he hissed, attempting to shove the man away.

Big mistake. He had momentarily forgotten—he wasn't the tall, muscular man he had once been. He was a mere 1.70m in height now, frail, and delicate in stature.

The man's expression darkened at his resistance. With a harsh pull, he grabbed Asahin by the collar of his T-shirt and yanked hard. The fabric tore, the sound sharp and jarring as it ripped diagonally from his neck to his stomach. Before Asahin could fully process what was happening, pain exploded in his stomach. The man had struck him, once, twice—each blow stealing the breath from his lungs.

Asahin crumpled to the ground, gasping.

The thief knelt down and rummaged through his pockets. Within seconds, he had retrieved Asahin's wallet and phone. "Thanks, little beauty," he sneered before sauntering away.

Asahin remained on the ground, eyes stinging with tears and dust. His whole body ached, and for a moment, he simply focused on breathing, willing the pain in his stomach to subside. When he finally pushed himself up, his hands trembling, he looked around, searching for anyone who might have witnessed the attack.

No one had stepped in.

Had no one seen what happened? Or had they simply chosen to ignore it?

A lump formed in his throat, a mixture of frustration and exhaustion weighing him down.

He considered going to the police. But that idea came with complications. His father… His father would not be pleased.

From the memories of the original Asahin, he knew that his father prided himself on maintaining the image of a perfect, loving family. If word got out that his youngest son had been wandering the city alone, dressed plainly, without guards, and had gotten himself robbed—it would shatter that carefully curated facade.

No, he couldn't risk it.

Grimacing, he glanced around and oriented himself. Luckily, he had memorized the way back home before heading out. He had prepared for the possibility that he might need to walk.

Holding his torn shirt together, he began his slow journey back.

People occasionally cast him curious or pitying glances, but no one stopped to help. It was humiliating. His body ached with every step, his breath still slightly labored from the earlier attack.

And then, as if things couldn't get worse, the sky darkened ominously.

He barely had time to process the sudden shift before the heavens opened, releasing a downpour that hit him like a slap.

"No way! You've got to be kidding me!" he groaned.

Within seconds, his already ruined clothes were soaked through. He shivered violently, despite it still being summer. The rain showed no mercy, coming down in sheets, drenching him entirely.

He trudged forward, muttering curses under his breath. "What a wretched second chance… Can't I catch a damn break?"

A sleek black car suddenly slowed beside him.

The tinted window rolled down, revealing a face he recognized instantly.

"Get in." Kaylen commanded from the driver's seat.

Asahin stared at him, disbelief washing over him. Of all people… It had to be him?

He considered refusing, but his shivering body protested. He had no other options.

"Fine," he muttered, climbing into the passenger seat. He grimaced as water dripped from his clothes onto the pristine interior. "Sorry about the mess."

Kaylen's expression was unreadable. "It's fine."

Asahin expected him to drive toward his house, but as the city streets blurred past, he realized they were going in the wrong direction.

"Aren't you taking me home?" Asahin asked, frowning.

"No." Kaylen's grip on the steering wheel tightened. "We're going to my house. You can't go back looking like that."

There was an odd edge to his voice, something restrained.

Asahin studied him for a moment before leaning back against the seat. Maybe this wasn't a bad thing. Going home like this would only invite trouble from Darrien and his mother.

The car's interior grew warmer, and Asahin's shivering lessened. He glanced at Kaylen. Had he turned on the heat for him?

No way.

He scoffed. "Maybe he really does want to help… or maybe he's just keeping up appearances."

Either way, he was finally warm. For now, that was enough.