Chapter 3
Jamie's POV
A blue, holographic screen flickered to life in front of me, startling me out of my weary stupor. The symbol on it was all too familiar, a clean, modern design that was a stark and surreal contrast to the barbaric, dusty path beneath my feet. It was a replica of my Millar app icon, a clean, modern design in the middle of this archaic world. The screen read: "Welcome, User Jamie Ronan. Your life support system is now active."
I mentally scoffed, pushing the message aside. A life support system? Was that what they were calling this? I wasn't some video game character with a new health bar; I was a human being who had been forcibly teleported into a savage world, about to be led to a place where I would presumably be violated, or worse. I chose to ignore the screen for now, my attention fixed on my surroundings as I trudged behind my new, reluctant 'mate.'
The place wasn't as primitive as I had initially feared, thank goodness. Instead of only caves, I was seeing small huts with smoke rising from their chimneys, a sign that they cooked food, a glimmer of hope for my survival. But the more we walked, the more the signs of civilization thinned.
The landscape grew wilder, the paths less defined, and a new, gnawing fear began to take root in my mind. "Was he leading me to a private, secluded spot where he would carefully execute me, away from the prying eyes of the other beast-men? The thought sent a shiver down my spine.
My legs ached with every step, a burning reminder of my sedentary lifestyle. I didn't do physical work, especially not this kind of relentless, stressful walking. But just as I was about to give up and collapse on the ground, we reached a large, rustic hut. It was a beacon of civilization in this increasingly wild landscape.
As if on cue, six children, a blur of tiny bodies and wild hair, came rushing out of the hut, a whirlwind of energy and youthful innocence. They ran toward Lucien, and he, without a word, easily picked two of them up as he walked into the hut.
I was completely ignored, a ghost trailing in their wake. Still, I continued to follow them, observing every little detail with a hawk's eye, my mind trying to piece together this puzzle of a life I now inhabited.
"Why is that black witch so quiet? Did Father finally hit his head?" A girl's voice, clear and cold, reached my ears. I glanced over and saw a holographic image hovering above her head. It read: Fiona. Her affection and love interest bars were at a perfect zero.
Wait!
Why are they showing the bars? My mind screamed, my internal voice growing frantic. Don't tell me my mission is to please these people and win their affections! I argued with the system, my fists clenching in frustration. I was a loner, a man who preferred the company of a good game and a bowl of noodles to people.
As if to mock me, the system screen flickered to life again, this time to explain my "mission." The text was a cruel, matter-of-fact sentence: User's mission is to bring delicious foods, balanced diets into this beast world but in order to do so, must win the heart of the kids and partner or else his neck might be in line.
Was that a threat? I questioned it in my mind, a fresh wave of panic washing over me. I then looked at my skill stats, which were now proudly displayed in the corner of my vision: Cooking skills: 45/100 Lv 1.
I couldn't help but let out a bitter, humorless laugh. So, a certain system knew my cooking skills weren't even up to average, and yet it wanted me to become a master chef? I felt a surge of genuine anger. Why didn't it just round it up to a 50? I knew my skills weren't anything special, but I could still cook something edible. It was a matter of principle.
"Adrien, she is more scary than ever," a little boy muttered, clinging to his brother. I looked at the holographic image above his head. It read: Carlos. His affection and love interest bar was at a timid 10, but as I watched, it dropped to a 9. I sighed, already feeling defeated and frustrated. I just wanted a good night's sleep, maybe only then would I wake up from this waking nightmare.
I walked past the children, who stared at me as if I were some kind of child-eating witch. Then I walked past Lucien, who was observing me with a piercing, unreadable gaze.
I moved into the hut, surprised to see that it looked much bigger on the inside than it did from the outside. I walked toward a bedroom and saw a pile of clothes that were obviously my size. The room smelled of me—or, rather, it smelled like a strange, foreign scent that was clinging to my skin.
This was something I had noticed earlier. A strange, honey-like or daisy pheromone smell or whatever the scent.
Though I wasn't gay, I had heard a thing or two about bl or mm comics and novels that my course mates especially the females were fond of. I knew about pheromones, sex marks, bond marks, and mate bonds. The smell was foreign and sweet, and I had no idea what it was. I picked up a clean set of clothes, ready to get rid of the dungeon's filthy smell.
I walked aimlessly until I reached a large bath bowl made from a tree trunk. At least this beast world seemed knowledgeable and skillful. I looked in and saw steam rising from the water. I dipped my pinkie finger in, and it was warm, almost hot.
Does that mean I'm privileged to cook here?
The question, a seed of hope, blossomed in my mind. I had been thinking of how to make the thousands of dollars needed to unlock even a simple cooking pot from the Millar system.
With a new smile, a genuine one this time, I walked toward where the little family was gathered. I wanted to know if perhaps someone had filled the bath bowl for me.
"Lucien?" I called out, my voice a tentative question. Everyone looked at me, their expressions a mix of surprise and confusion.
Did I call his name wrong? Did the previous Jamie call him something else?. The holographic images around him were quick to answer, as if mocking me for using his real name. "Outcasted prince," "old general," "good-for-nothing," "brute man," "savage mate" were showing on the holographic image beside him, maybe the real Jamie called him those names. I couldn't possibly call him any of that.
"I was wondering if you made the water for yourself or for the kids?" I questioned, trying to sound as normal as possible, but my question only seemed to deepen their surprise.
The holographic images hovered over the kids head displaying words like "small rats," "abandoned beast cubs," and "blood-sucking demons." I sighed. This system was always giving me heads-up when it was too late. And the real Jamie is a dick for calling little angels those bad names.
"Use it," Lucien said, his voice curt and low.
I didn't waste another minute, afraid I would say or do something else to reveal that I was a new soul in this body.
I dashed back toward the bathroom. Once I had gotten rid of the filthy clothes, I dived into the water, wishing with all my might that the warm water could somehow erase my horrific memories and this nightmare. The realization was so strong and stinging, a reminder that this was my reality.
Nevertheless, the water was nice, but this beast world held no soap. I had a faint hope that the Millar system would have something for me. I lazily scrolled through the holographic image until I found it: a free soap. I pressed it, and a bar of soap instantly landed in my hands with a satisfying thump.
I looked at it, a fake smile on my face. Someone please pinch me, I mumbled to myself, then sighed.
I sniffed the soap. It smelled like orchids. So that was my pheromone scent. A soft, floral smell in a world of wild, musky scents. It was a bizarre and ironic fact.
Once I was done bathing, I climbed out, the cold breeze a sudden jolt, a cold reminder of the reality I was still in. As I was in the process of putting my new clothes on, the bathroom door creaked open, and Lucien walked in, stopping abruptly when he saw me.
I looked over at him, then looked away. It wasn't a big deal for guys to see each other naked. It was nothing from where I was from, especially between straight men who were more interested in women. But a strange, tingling sensation ran down my spine, a feeling I couldn't quite place. "Straight men" echoed in my brain, I looked over once more and saw it—that lustful, hungry gaze I had only ever given to women when fantasizing about fucking them.
Holy Moses! I screamed in my head, my hands flying to cover my body. An overwhelming sense of awkwardness and embarrassment washed over me. I glared at him, the sudden rage a welcome distraction from the shame.
I wish I could get some cold water. I'm really burning from this embarrassment.