By the time they reached Rivershade, the sky was burnin' orange and gold. The town looked straight out of a medieval painting—wooden homes, cobbled streets, torches in iron sconces. The air buzzed with chatter and the smell of roasting meat.
The leader finally introduced himself.
"Name's Gareth," he said, tightening his sword belt. "Former soldier. This is Lyra," he nodded to the red-haired archer, "Edrin," the quiet man, "and Tobin," the boy.
"Pleasure," Kaito said, tipping an imaginary hat. "Y'all got yourselves quite the outfit."
Lyra gave him a skeptical look. "You're full of strange words."
"Ain't wrong," he said with a grin.
They stopped at an inn called The Silver Mare. Inside, laughter, clinking mugs, and the smell of stew filled the air. They sat at a table, and a waitress soon came by—a cheerful young woman with chestnut curls and an apron dusted in flour.
"Evenin' folks! What'll it be?"
"Stew for all," Gareth said, tossing her a coin.
Kaito patted his pocket and pulled out his wallet—good ol' American bills still inside. He grinned in relief and handed her a twenty.
"Keep the change, miss."
She blinked. Then frowned.
"What… is this?"
"That there's money," Kaito said, confused. "Real green stuff. Worth plenty where I come from."
Gareth leaned over, squinting. "Looks like strange paper."
The waitress shook her head. "We use Gil here, sir. Coins only. Copper, silver, or gold."
Kaito stared at the bill, then sighed.
"Well ain't that just perfect. Goddess sends me here without convertin' my dang wallet."
The table went silent. Lyra raised an eyebrow.
"Goddess?"
"Figure'a speech," Kaito said quickly, waving it off. "Meant to say, uh… bad luck."
They exchanged looks but said nothing. Gareth paid for his meal again.
When the food came, Kaito dove in like a starving wolf.
"Sweet mercy, this is good," he said between bites. "Been livin' on protein bars and bad coffee for too long."
"Protein… bars?" Tobin asked.
"Don't worry 'bout it, kid. You ain't missin' much."
Later that night, Gareth arranged rooms. Kaito thanked him and headed upstairs to the one they'd given him.
The small wooden room was simple—bed, wash basin, small mirror on the wall. He leaned on the window frame, looking out at the moonlit town. People here talked about mana, guilds, quests—stuff that sounded like a video game. But it wasn't a dream. The air was too real. The food too good. The ache in his legs too familiar.
He turned toward the mirror—and froze.
The man staring back wasn't the one who'd taken a bullet on the Senate floor. He was taller—around six-one. His hair was brown and slightly messy, with faint crimson undertones that caught the lamplight. His face looked younger—strong jaw, faint stubble, hazel eyes that flickered between green and gold.
He blinked, leaning closer.
"Well, I'll be damned," he murmured. "Goddess really did give me an upgrade."
He ran a hand through his hair, smirking at his reflection.
"Alright, Kaito Mercer. New world, new look, same attitude. Let's see what kinda mess you get into this time."
He lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling until sleep finally took him—dreaming of golden fields, strange creatures, and the quiet laughter of a goddess somewhere far above.