(1st POV)
The city was... a vibe.
Neon signs, flickering storefronts, holographic ad displays — all bathed in that gentle, polluted glow that made you question your life choices. But honestly? After days of demon attacks and existential crises, civilization felt like a warm hug.
Until I realized something.
I couldn't read.
Not illiterate — I mean the letters weren't even trying to pretend they were English.
I stopped dead in front of a huge LED billboard featuring some over-styled dude with perfect cheekbones and an unreasonably shiny mic, arms outstretched like he was welcoming me to the apocalypse. The text behind him? Full Korean.
The only reason I knew that much was thanks to the hundreds of manhwa I used to binge back home.
'Great,' I thought. 'Dead, reborn, flame-wielding space prince... and my first boss fight is the alphabet.'
But just when I was mentally preparing to become a feral forest cryptid again, something else hit me.
I could understand people.
Not just like "Oh, body language and tone, I get the vibe," I mean I could actually understand them. Words. Meaning. Everything. Even when they weren't speaking English.
The weird part? Their lips weren't matching the words. At all.
I tested the theory.
Walked into a gas station — or what I hoped was a gas station and not, like, a temple of glitter or something — and strolled up to the clerk.
"Hey," I said, voice casual. "Do you know where the nearest hotel is?"
He looked up, gave me a once-over, and nodded, speaking in smooth, clearly-not-English syllables that my brain interpreted as, "Yeah, just three blocks down. Blue building, red sign. Can't miss it."
I blinked.
'Okay. Cool cool cool. I'm in a dubbed version of reality. Great. I'm living in one of those old Chinese martial arts movies where nobody's mouth matches the dialogue. Fantastic.'
I grabbed a bag of chips from a nearby rack and paid with the cash I'd... acquired.
"Thanks," I said.
"Have a good night," the clerk replied in a voice that sounded suspiciously auto-tuned.
I stepped out of the store and sighed.
Now, you're probably wondering — "Wait, Sable, where the hell did you get money?"
Ah. See, some of the locals are really kind. And very... touchy.
Let's just say I graciously accepted their generosity. Like a noble, desperate raccoon digging through the Gucci version of a trash can.
'And if you say it with enough confidence, it's not stealing. It's crowd-sourced survival.'
Anyway.
Following the store clerk's directions, I made my way to the hotel — and yes, it was blue, yes it had a red sign, and no, I didn't understand anything written on it.
Still, I walked in, threw down my totally-not-stolen cash, and checked into a room.
Easy.
Nothing suspicious about a tall dude in priest-core robes and star tattoos casually asking for a key.
The receptionist didn't even blink.
Once inside, I finally took off the robe — still somehow pristine despite demon attacks and forest dirt — and bee-lined for the bathroom.
That shower?
Transcendental.
I don't know if it was the soap or if my soul was still radioactive, but I washed off layers of stress, space, trauma, and probably divine residue. I nearly cried. I might've actually cried. Shut up.
Wrapped in nothing but a fluffy towel, I walked back into the room ready to crash...
And then paused.
'...I don't have pajamas.'
I looked at the bed. Then at the towel.
Then at the bed again.
'There is no way I'm letting any part of my naked ass touch hotel sheets. I don't care if I'm a star-blessed space messiah — that's a line I won't cross.'
So, I pulled on the pants from my weird priest-meets-CEO outfit, left my chest bare, and collapsed onto the bed. The constellation tattoos on my arms pulsed faintly under the room's dim light.
I didn't even make it under the covers.
Just crashed face-first into the mattress like a man emotionally tackled by exhaustion.
And for once... I didn't dream.
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A/N: Has anyone flashed a blacklight in a hotel room it is DISGUSTING!🤮
but anyway, tell me how you like it leave a comment, Suscri- oops wrong format.😅
SEE YA NEXT TIME!!