Liam's first coherent thought was that the sky was wrong.
It was too blue, too perfect, like someone had turned up the saturation in real life. No haze, no distant airplane trails, no faint city glow even though it felt like midday. Just endless, mocking clarity.
He sat up slowly, palms pressing into warm cobblestones. His faded gray hoodie was still zipped halfway, sleeves pushed to his elbows from earlier when he'd been fiddling with the car AC.
Jeans intact. Sneakers scuffed from the parking lot they'd left behind… whenever that was.
No pain. No blood. No twisted metal.
Just… here.
Beside him, Elara stirred.
She pushed herself upright with one hand, the other automatically brushing long auburn waves from her face.
Strands stuck slightly to her cheek from what must have been fountain mist. Her white cotton t-shirt—soft, slightly worn at the collar from too many washes—clung just enough in places to trace the full, natural swell of her breasts.
The high-waisted blue jeans hugged her hips and thighs in that effortless way that always made Liam pause when she walked ahead of him at the grocery store or crossed a room at home.
Right now, sitting on the edge of the fountain, one knee bent, the denim stretched taut over the generous curve of her ass and the soft thickness of her thighs.
She looked exactly like she had twenty minutes ago (or however long ago it had been)—beautiful in that unstudied, everyday way.
No makeup beyond a touch of lip balm, light freckles across her nose from last summer's beach trip, hazel eyes wide and confused.
"Liam?" Her voice came out small, almost childlike. "This isn't… the highway."
He reached for her hand without thinking. Their fingers laced together—familiar, grounding.
"I don't know what this is," he admitted. His throat felt dry. "But we're okay. We're both here."
She squeezed back hard enough to hurt.
Around them, the square kept breathing.
It looked like a fantasy movie set crossed with a very upscale European old town. Warm honey-stone buildings rose three and four stories, windows open to let in breeze, flower boxes spilling red and purple blooms.
Market stalls lined the edges—fresh bread, glistening fruit, bolts of bright cloth, trinkets that caught the sun like tiny stars. The air smelled of yeast, herbs, woodsmoke, and something sweeter he couldn't place.
And people.
So many people.
Women—tall, elegant, some in flowing dresses that swished around calves, others in fitted leather vests that showed toned arms and confident posture.
Futas—impossible to miss, towering even taller, trousers doing nothing to conceal heavy, swaying bulges that made Liam's stomach flip with a mix of awe and unease.
Smaller figures (men and women both) in simpler tunics or aprons, many wearing thin metal collars that glinted when they moved.
They weren't staring like they'd seen monsters.
They were looking like… connoisseurs.
A futa baker paused with a ladle halfway to a bowl of stew, eyes sliding slowly over Elara's figure—from the gentle rise and fall of her chest under the t-shirt, down the dip of her waist, to the flare of her hips where the jeans accentuated every soft curve.
A woman merchant leaned one elbow on her stall, gaze tracing the line of Elara's neck, the way auburn hair spilled over one shoulder, the subtle bounce when Elara shifted her weight.
A young futa guard near a lamppost adjusted her belt, smirk growing as she took in the couple from head to toe.
Liam felt the attention like fingers on his skin.
He hunched his shoulders inside the hoodie, suddenly hyper-aware of how average he looked next to these statuesque figures.
Elara noticed the stares too.
She crossed her arms under her breasts—instinctive self-protection—and the motion pushed the soft mounds up slightly, stretching the cotton taut.
The faint shadow of her lace bra showed through when she turned toward the light.
Her nipples, already faintly visible from the cool mist off the fountain, pebbled further under the scrutiny.
She didn't seem to realize how the small action drew even more eyes.
"Why are they looking at us like that?" she whispered, voice cracking on the last word.
Liam swallowed. "I don't know. But we need to—"
Before he could finish, the voice arrived.
Not spoken. Inside their skulls. Calm, clinical, faintly amused.
[The Ledger of Devotion has awakened.]
[Reincarnates registered: Liam. Elara.]
[Current status: Clothed (Earth attire). Mobile. No local currency. No lodging. No cultural knowledge.]
[First devotion assigned.]
Pale rose-gold text unfolded in their shared vision like floating subtitles.
[Task: Approach six locals. Perform a polite curtsy (women) or bow (men). Introduce yourselves as new arrivals and say clearly: "We are honored guests in Eldoria. Please guide us gently."]
[Reward: Basic map token + 10 silver coins + one night's lodging voucher at a nearby inn.]
[Deadline: Before the central bell tolls six times.]
[Failure: No map. No coin. "Newcomer curiosity" tag applied (increased unsolicited approaches for 48 hours).]
Elara's breath hitched audibly. Her fingers tightened around his until it hurt.
"Liam… that's in my head."
"Mine too." His voice sounded distant to his own ears.
They stared at the words until they faded slightly, still hovering at the edge of vision.
Elara's free hand came up to press against her chest, right over her heart.
"This can't be real," she said, almost to herself. "We were just… driving. Talking about dinner. And now—"
She looked down at her clothes, as if confirming they were still there.
The jeans clung to her thighs where she sat, denim creased in all the right places. Her t-shirt had ridden up just a fraction, exposing a thin strip of smooth skin above the waistband.
Liam followed her gaze, then forced his eyes back to her face.
"We died," he said quietly. "Or… something. And this is… after."
Tears welled in her eyes—not falling yet, just shining.
"I don't want this."
"Me neither."
A long silence stretched between them while the square kept moving around them. Voices, laughter, the clink of coins, the sizzle of meat on a grill.
Elara wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand.
"Okay," she said finally. "We do the task. We get the voucher. We get inside somewhere safe. Then we talk. Really talk."
Liam nodded. "Together."
"Together."