As I finished the last bite of corn, the awkwardness crept back in. What was I supposed to do after finishing my meal? Were they expecting me to leave? Help with the dishes? I had no idea.
One thing was clear, though — I was desperate to pee.
I washed my hands in the same cup I'd used before the meal, then stood up. Everyone turned to look at me. Ah. This is so awkward. I hesitated, then placed a hand over my bladder, glanced at the father, and turned toward the door.
As I stepped outside, he followed. He silently put a firm hand on my shoulder. Then, he pointed to a small outhouse behind the house, about fifty meters away. I nodded and made my way there, finally able to relieve myself.
While standing there, I realized something — I hadn't thanked them. Not once.
When I got back to the house, the mother and father engaged in a soft conversation. The girl was visible in a side room, doing the dishes — though only part of the space was in view. I stopped in the doorway and performed a deep bow. My back was straight, and my arms were at my sides. It was a full gesture of thanks, as respectful as I could be. The father stood, approached, and held up a sheet of paper with writing on it.
I stared at it blankly, then shook my head. His eyebrows rose slightly. He scratched the back of his head and turned. Then, he walked to the side room where the girl was cleaning. He passed through and entered another area beyond. I saw the mother looking at me with a mix of curiosity and concern. When we made eye contact, a soft smile spread across her face.
Half a minute later, the father returned. He looked at me, nodded toward the door, and gestured for me to follow.
We left the house. He walked ahead with steady, rhythmic steps. His back was straight, and his fists were lightly clenched. A military man, no doubt. I found myself falling into step with him as if we were in sync. Same posture. Same rhythm. Like those miserable days in military school.
After some time, we reached the stone building I'd seen earlier — the one I assumed was the village hall. Inside, five or six rows of chairs filled the space, and a platform rose above the floor. An assembly hall? An auditorium?
To the right was a smaller room with a few empty chairs nearby. The father knocked on the door. He waited a few seconds, then opened it. He exchanged a few words with someone inside. Afterward, he looked back at me and nodded toward the empty chair, then stepped into the room.
Five minutes passed.
An older man, tall with short red hair, finally stepped out. He studied me — my sneakers, my clothes, my hair — then gave a slight nod and said something to the girl's father. The man gave my shoulder a firm pat, turned to the elder with a shake of his head, and left the building.
The elder, a clear representative of the village, gestured for me to follow him into the room. He sat down at a table, his back to the wall, and pointed to the chair across from him.
Once I sat, he pointed at himself, raised five fingers on his left hand and none on the right. Then he made fists, and again raised five fingers on the left and four on the right.
Fifty-nine? Was he telling me his age?
While I was figuring things out, a younger man came in. He set two cups of water on the table — one for me and one for the village leader — and then left without making a sound.
The elder looked at me again, then at my hands, giving me a questioning nod. I raised two fingers on my left hand and five on my right. Twenty-five. He gave a small nod, seemingly satisfied.
I picked up my cup and drank.
But as I swallowed the last mouthful, I choked without warning. My body jerked forward as I coughed violently — but nothing came up. The water had gone down the wrong pipe, and I couldn't breathe.
My mana sense spiked — hard — but I couldn't focus on it. I was too busy gasping, panicking, and fighting for air. My chest convulsed. My vision blurred.
Then — darkness.
===
I woke up in a hole. Dirt walls surrounded me on all sides, and two tall, red-haired men were peering down from above...