Kael tries to find a place to stay. Even though it was daytime, he is very tired.
The city sprawled around him, a labyrinth of noise and color. Merchants shouted, children dashed between carts, and the occasional armored patrol clanked past, their eyes sharp for trouble. Kael kept his head down, his hands in his pockets, fingers brushing the pouch of coppers.
Then he saw it.
Tucked between a blacksmith's roaring furnace and a dimly lit apothecary, a wooden sign creaked in the breeze. A rusted lantern swung beneath it, the glass panes smudged with soot. The words beneath were carved in rough, uneven letters:
THE RUSTY LANTERN INN
Cheap. Probably dirty. Perfect.
Kael pushed open the door.
The air inside was thick with the smell of ale, roasted meat, and the faint—. A hearth crackled in the corner, casting flickering light over a scattering of wooden tables. Most were occupied—rough-looking men in leather tunics, a pair of women in travel-stained cloaks, a lone figure hunched over a bowl of stew, their face hidden beneath a hood.
At the far end of the room, a broad-shouldered man leaned against a counter, polishing a tankard with a rag. His beard was streaked with gray, his nose crooked from at least one break. The innkeeper, no doubt.
Kael approached, keeping his steps casual.
The man glanced up. His eyes—sharp, dark—scanned Kael from head to toe, lingering on his clothes.
"You lost, kid?"
Kael forced a grin. "Looking for a room."
The innkeeper snorted. "You got coin?"
Kael pulled out the pouch, loosened the drawstring just enough to let the man see the coppers inside.
The innkeeper's expression didn't change, but he set the tankard down. "Ten coppers a night. Meals extra."
Ten coppers. That was barely a dollar. Still, it made sense. This wasn't a world of Wi-Fi, plumbing, or four-star service. I'd have to adapt.
"Any discounts for longer stays?"
Kael was planning to stay here for a few days. Because he had no work in his real world anyway. So he wanted to gather information about this world in these days. So that he could understand this world better and plan to collect more money.
The innkeeper smirked. "You planning to live here?"
"Maybe a week."
"Forty coppers, then. But you clean up after yourself. No trouble, no whores, no stealing. Break the rules, and I throw you out. No refunds."
Kael nodded. "Deal."
He counted out the coins, sliding them across the counter. The innkeeper swept them up with a practiced hand, then jerked his thumb toward a narrow staircase.
"Second floor. Last door on the right. Don't slam it."
Kael nodded and walked in that direction.
The room was exactly what Kael expected.
Small. Bare. A narrow bed with a straw-stuffed mattress, a wobbly table, and a single candle in a tin holder. The window was a square of grimy glass, offering a view of the alley below.
But it had a lock on the door.
Kael dropped his bag onto the bed, exhaling as the weight left his shoulders. He sat down, the frame creaking under him, and rubbed his face.
Okay. Now what?
He had shelter. He had time. But he needed a plan.
His stomach growled.
Right. Food first.
Downstairs, the common room had grown louder. More patrons had trickled in—laborers, traders, a group of armed men with the look of mercenaries. Kael took a seat at an empty table near the hearth, where the warmth seeped into his bones.
A serving girl—young, freckled, her hair tied back in a messy braid—approached.
"Ale? Or food?"
"Food," Kael said. "What's good?"
"Stew. Bread's fresh. Two coppers."
"Just the stew."
She nodded and turned away.
Kael watched the room as he waited. The mercenaries were laughing over some story, their voices booming. The hooded figure was still hunched over their meal. Near the door, a pair of men in fine but travel-worn clothes spoke in low tones, their eyes occasionally flicking toward the stairs.
Not locals. Maybe merchants.
The stew arrived in a chipped clay bowl, thick with chunks of meat, carrot, and something pale and starchy he didn't recognize. The bread was still warm, the crust crackling beneath his fingers.
Kael ate slowly, savoring each bite. It was simple, hearty, and better than anything he could cook himself.
While Kael was eating, the mercenaries at the table next to him were talking among themselves.
"—found another one. Same as the last."
The speaker was one of the mercenaries, a broad man with a scar across his cheek. His companions had gone quiet.
"Where?" another asked.
"Out near the old mill. Just bones now. But the gear was still there."
"Gods. That's the third this month."
Kael listened to their words. Hmm, now if I pay close attention to them, I think they are adventurers. Hmm, it seems they are talking about their quest.
Good.
Kael wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Now that he wasn't starving, his mind turned back to the Dimensional Exchange.
He needed a plan.
Find something valuable here → Trade it for money back home.
Buy useful items in his world → Bring them here to sell.
Repeat until rich.
Simple in theory. Harder in practice.
First, he needed information.
Hmm, should I become an adventurer in this world? This might be a great choice for gathering information about this world and earning money. But the problem is that I have no combat skills. No swordsmanship. No spells.
But I had:
A skill that could make me rich.
A world full of untapped resources.
And a universal language skill.
Hmm, but according to the anime and novels I've read, adventurers also have many non-combat quests, such as collecting herbs. I'll have to gather information about that after I rest.