Garen's house was not far from the infirmary — about a two or three minute walk. Along the way, he pointed out various buildings, casually explaining what each of them was used for.
We passed a blacksmith's forge, then something resembling a local grocery store — if it could even be called that. On the counter lay several vegetables of unfamiliar origin, some recognizable tomatoes, and… a pig's head. Garen introduced me to the auntie behind the counter; she introduced herself in return and gave me a kind, warm smile.
The village even had a central square with a fountain in the middle. The roads, by the way, were paved with cobblestones rather than just packed dirt, as I'd somehow expected. The architecture itself didn't look all that ancient either — typical medieval houses, but with something about them that faintly reminded me of buildings from my own world.
Still, that wasn't all that important. This was another world, after all — it didn't have to match what I was used to.
— Well then, here we are.
We stopped in front of a rather well-off-looking house. It was built of stone and wood and clearly stood out from the other buildings we'd passed. The house had a porch with a veranda and a roof supported by two wooden columns, carved and covered with some kind of symbols.
If Garen hadn't said it was his home, I could easily have mistaken it for some sort of administrative building. It even made me curious what the town hall looked like… assuming villages even had one.
We went inside, and the first thing that caught my eye was a wall of trophies — completely covered with the heads of various animals. It immediately became clear that Garen was an avid hunter. Still, it was hard to imagine earning a house like this through hunting alone… unless you were taking down something truly rare and valuable.
— You can sit at that table for now, — Garen said, — and I'll go upstairs and bring you something to wear.
He pointed to a table by the window with only two chairs beside it. It wasn't hard to guess that there weren't many permanent residents in the house — most likely just Garen and Sophie. They had mentioned someone else, a third person, but he clearly didn't live here. Garen's older son, I think… Sophie's brother.
They hadn't said anything about a mother. Maybe something had happened to her… though I couldn't know that. And right now, my own problems mattered far more than the affairs of someone else's family.
While Garen went upstairs, I sat down at the table and began looking around.
The interior didn't feel old — if anything, it felt unexpectedly modern. The kitchen cabinets and the table itself seemed familiar, like I'd seen something similar back in my own world. If someone told me this furniture came from IKEA, I probably wouldn't have been surprised.
Even the cutlery was metal rather than wooden, as I'd oddly expected.
That was oddly comforting. It seemed this world wasn't nearly as backward or ancient as I'd imagined it to be.
There were even curtains on the windows, patterned with roses.
It didn't take long before Garen returned, carrying some clothes.
— Here, try this on. I think it should fit.
He handed me a bundle of clothes and a pair of boots. Only then did I realize I'd been barefoot this entire time. No wonder people in the village had been giving me strange looks… though that probably wasn't the only reason.
Everyone we'd passed on the way had simply greeted Garen, without asking who the person walking beside him was.
Soon after, I headed into a small room he pointed out so I could change in peace.
I placed the clothes on a chair in the corner and looked around.
To my surprise, there was even a mirror.
That, for some reason, made me happy. I hadn't expected to see such a luxury in this world.
Taking off the cloth I'd found on the beach, I was finally able to properly examine my reflection.
What stared back at me was some kind of… cutie.
I'd seen myself before — the reflection in the water back on the beach. But that was different. Water distorts, ripples, breaks outlines. This was a real mirror, and it didn't lie.
Yeah. There was no room for doubt now.
Although by nature I was a genderless being, I looked like a perfectly ordinary twelve-year-old girl. Well… not entirely ordinary, of course. But definitely not a boy — at least, not to anyone who saw me.
Now it was clear why people had assumed that.
My facial features were too soft, almost doll-like. My eyes were scarlet — I noticed that immediately. That kind of color was impossible to miss, even if you tried.
My hair was long — I'd known that since the beach. I'd touched the strands back then, checking whether it was just my imagination. Now they simply rested on my shoulders and fell almost to the middle of my back, as if that were how they were always meant to be.
I tilted my head slightly, studying my reflection from a different angle.
There was no panic. Just a strange, slightly awkward feeling. As if I were wearing someone else's clothes that had unexpectedly turned out to fit.
Well then. I'd have to get used to it.
I turned to grab the clothes I'd been given.
First, I put on the trousers, then the boots, and finally draped the long cloak over my shoulders. The clothes were simple, but surprisingly comfortable.
The wide dark trousers sat loosely at the waist and gathered in folds where they were tucked into the boots, not restricting movement at all. The fabric was thick, but not heavy. The belt was wide and sturdy, as if designed to carry something more serious — like a sheath.
The boots were a little loose, but warm and steady. I took a few steps around the room, testing how they felt. Walking was easy — unusually easy.
The problem appeared when I looked in the mirror again.
No matter how I adjusted the cloak, one shoulder stubbornly remained exposed. The fabric kept slipping, as if that were how it was meant to be worn.
— Mmh… — I muttered.
The feeling was strange. Not critical, but not especially comfortable either.
That was when I noticed a neatly folded set of bandages beneath the chair. They lay there with the rest of the clothes, without any particular emphasis.
I thought about it for a moment, then decided it probably wasn't a bad idea.
Taking off the cloak, I carefully wrapped the bandages around my chest — not tightly, just enough so nothing would get in the way or distract me.
After that, I put the cloak back on and moved around again.
The clothes fit noticeably better. The cloak still slipped off one shoulder, but now it no longer felt so awkward.
Now everything felt right.