The grand marble doors of Aldoria's castle slammed shut behind him, the echoes ringing louder in Kaito's ears than any insult the kings had thrown his way. The cold air of the capital struck his face, sharp and unwelcoming. The guards had not even bothered to escort him kindly. One of them had shoved him forward, and Kaito stumbled on his weakened leg, barely managing to steady himself with the crutch they gave him earlier.
"Heroes do not come without gifts," one of the armored men had sneered. "If you have no power, then you are no hero. Leave."
Those words lingered in Kaito's mind like poison. No unique skill. No strength to boast about. Only a broken leg and a skill the priests didn't even consider valuable. Corebound Summoning. They had written it down as though it was nothing more than a common trick, dismissing it without a second thought. And now, here he was, alone, with no way back to his world.
He limped down the cobbled streets of Aldoria's capital, each step sending a dull ache up his injured leg. The bustling life of the city unfolded around him vendors shouting, carriages rolling by, children darting through alleys but none of it touched him. He felt like a ghost drifting in a world that had no place for him.
The other summoned outsiders were likely enjoying their royal treatment, fine meals, and luxurious rooms. They were called heroes. He, on the other hand, was just another mouth to feed. A burden.
His stomach growled. He hadn't eaten since yesterday's bread roll at the castle. He needed money. Food. Shelter. Anything. The city was no place for a penniless cripple.
So he began searching. He dragged himself from shop to shop, asking if anyone needed help. Blacksmiths, tailors, traders everywhere he went, he was turned away. His accent and attire gave him away as a foreigner, and his weak frame made him undesirable. "We don't hire cripples," one merchant spat bluntly. "Come back when you can walk like a man."
Hours passed. The sun dipped low in the sky, painting the clouds orange. Kaito's leg throbbed relentlessly, but he pushed forward. Giving up meant starving, and starvation meant death.
Finally, his nose caught the faint smell of roasted meat and freshly baked bread. His body almost moved on its own, following the aroma until he stopped in front of a modest restaurant tucked in between two buildings. The wooden sign above the door was faded, but the warmth spilling from within was inviting.
Kaito hesitated, then pushed the door open.
The restaurant was half-full, noisy with laughter and clattering plates. Behind the counter stood a broad-shouldered man with a thick beard, shouting orders to two younger workers rushing between tables. His presence was commanding, yet his eyes carried a kind of weariness born of years in the kitchen.
Gathering his courage, Kaito limped forward. "Excuse me," he said softly.
The man turned, his sharp gaze sweeping over the boy. From the foreign clothes to the crutch under his arm, he could tell this newcomer was no local. "What do you want, kid? Food? If so, you'll need coin."
"I… I don't have money," Kaito admitted, bowing his head. "But I can work. Please. Anything. Just give me a chance."
The restaurant owner frowned. He had seen beggars and drifters plenty of times before, most of them with honeyed words and empty promises. Yet something about the boy's eyes steady, desperate, but not dishonest made him pause.
"What can you do?" he asked bluntly.
Kaito thought quickly. "I can chop vegetables. Wash dishes. Clean floors. Anything that doesn't require much walking." He tapped his injured leg with the crutch.
The man grunted. "Hmph. A cripple in my kitchen. That'll slow things down."
But even as he said it, he glanced toward the mountain of unwashed plates piling near the sink and the stack of vegetables waiting for the knife. His two workers were already overwhelmed serving tables.
"…Fine," he said at last, waving his hand. "You'll work the back. Wash, chop, and keep your mouth shut. If you slack off, you're gone. Understood?"
Kaito's heart leapt. He bowed deeply. "Yes! Thank you, sir. I won't let you down."
The man nodded. "Name's Garrick. This is my place. From now on, you answer to me."
And so Kaito's new life began.
The first hours were grueling. His hands quickly grew raw from scrubbing plates, and his arms ached from lifting buckets of water. But he didn't complain. Compared to the empty streets and the cold rejection he had endured all day, this was salvation. Each clean dish, each neatly chopped carrot, was proof that he could still contribute something.
When the dinner rush finally ended, Garrick strode into the back. His sharp eyes scanned the spotless dishes and the carefully stacked vegetables. To his mild surprise, the boy had worked without complaint, steady and quiet.
"You did well," Garrick said gruffly, scratching his beard. "Better than I expected."
Kaito wiped sweat from his brow. "Thank you, sir. I… I'll keep working hard."
Garrick studied him for a long moment. "Where are you staying?"
Kaito hesitated. "Nowhere."
The man sighed. "I figured as much. You look like a lost pup. Hmph. Fine. You can sleep here. We've got a small storeroom in the back. Don't expect comfort, but it's better than the streets."
Kaito bowed so low his forehead almost touched the floor. "Thank you! Truly, thank you!"
That night, Kaito lay on a thin mat in the storeroom, the smell of spices and smoke clinging to the air. It was far from luxurious, but it was warm, safe, and his stomach was full from the bowl of stew Garrick had given him after work.
For the first time since arriving in this world, he felt a fragile spark of hope.
He had no title. No recognition as a hero. But he had earned something honest, something real. A place to sleep. A chance to work.
As his eyes grew heavy, Kaito whispered to himself. "I'll survive. No matter what it takes."
And with that quiet vow, he drifted into sleep, unaware that his journey as the Corebound Summoner was only just beginning.