A beggar

I heard the bustling sound of people chattering and the rhythmic clopping of hooves as horses trotted by. The sun's rays pierced my skin, heating me like a warming flame.

It felt as if I had been thrown into hell, yet all my life, I had only tried to do good things. I struggled to open my eyes slowly; the light blinded me for a second. I instinctively covered my eyes with my hands to ease the brightness. As my vision began to recover, I was left stunned by my surroundings. The place I once knew was gone. It felt as if I had traveled to another dimension, where the people around me wore garments of the medieval era—flowing dresses, tunics, and cloaks that spoke of a time long past.

“Is this the afterlife, or am I still dreaming?” I wondered aloud, disbelief gnawing at me. Pinching my face, I was shocked to feel pain. So, I was alive, but how had I ended up here?

As I stood on the sidewalk, trying to gather my thoughts, I noticed that people passing by were keeping their distance and looking at me with disgust. It didn’t bother me much; my mind was still buzzing with questions.

Suddenly, a forceful shove propelled me into the road.

“Look at that beggar! Pathetic!” a child’s voice rang out, bursting with cruel laughter.

“Who the hell pushed me?” I shouted angrily, glaring back at the culprit.

A young boy, no older than twelve, smirked from where he stood with two other children. They seemed to revel in my humiliation. I felt a surge of frustration and indignation bubbling up inside me. I was not going to let this slide.

Before I could rise, a carriage came barreling down the road, and I barely managed to dodge it, jumping back onto the sidewalk.

“Hey, kid, do you have a death wish?” an old man shouted, wrestling the reins of the agitated horse.

“Who the hell are you calling a kid?” I snapped back, my cheeks heating in embarrassment and anger. “I’m twenty-five, you know!”

The old man’s expression shifted to one of irritation mixed with pity. “Just what’s going on out there?” he shouted to a voice inside the carriage.

“Nothing, my lady. Just some random beggar making a scene,” the old man replied tersely.

“Did you just call me a beggar?” I felt my eyes widen in disbelief.

“Just ignore him. I don’t want any rumors about our household arguing with a beggar,” the soft voice of a young lady floated from within the carriage. She lifted the curtain, and our eyes met.

She was stunning—a vision in a flowing dress, with golden hair and radiant yellow eyes that sparkled with curiosity. I found myself momentarily entranced. But before I could gather my thoughts, she quickly closed the curtain, hiding her beauty from view.

The old man shook his head in disgust, swaying the horse to move forward. I was left standing there, a mere shadow in a world too bright and too bustling for my understanding.

As I wandered along the sidewalk, dazed and disoriented, I stumbled into a clothing store. A glance into the glass revealed my reflection: a twelve-year-old boy with long black hair that partially obscured my face, brown eyes peering back at me from a thin, malnourished frame dressed in torn clothing.

Wait! What?! Is this me?

Shock washed over me as I touched my face, the reality of my situation sinking in. Just then, a shop worker approached, maintaining a safe distance.

“Hey, you! Get away from the front of the store. You’re making our customers uncomfortable,” he barked, waving me away like I was some stray dog.

What the heck? I’m just looking at the mirror!

I couldn't shake the feeling of being treated like trash, the judgmental looks of the passersby stinging like icy needles. It felt like discrimination, but I had to admit—the stench emanating from my own body surely didn't help.

As I turned to leave the store, a sense of helplessness washed over me. After hours of wandering through the unfamiliar city, I finally gathered enough information to understand my predicament: I was in a different era—a kingdom called Verdania, ruled by King Artix. I was nothing more than a beggar now, and not the adventurous type from fables or stories.

But then, my stomach growled in protest, reminding me of my desperate hunger. I checked the pockets of this boy's tattered clothing, but they were empty. I had even tried begging for scraps at nearby stalls, only to be met with harsh refusals. They were so heartless!

I was desperately wishing for some status window or cheat key to assist on my journey. After all, every isekai protagonist had one, right? It had to be different for me.

Taking a deep breath, I raised my right hand and said, “Status.”

Swwoooosh! The wind rushed past, but nothing happened.

Maybe there was a different way to call upon it? I tried again, raising my hand and saying, “Property.” Still, nothing appeared.

“Identity?” Nothing again.

Frustration bubbled up inside me. Perhaps my calculations had been all wrong, or maybe I wasn't the protagonist after all—but then...

“GROWL!”

The sound of my stomach interrupted my thoughts.

“Damn! I haven’t eaten since this afternoon, and it’s getting dark already,” I muttered to myself, feeling the weight of reality bearing down on me.

“Hey! What are you doing here?”

I turned to see a young girl with bright red hair and striking blue eyes. Given her attire, she looked like a commoner.

“Kid,” I chuckled, finding it amusing that a child was calling me that.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, narrowing her eyes, a frown creasing her expression.

“Nothing. I’m just really hungry. I haven’t eaten since earlier,” I replied, my tone a mixture of frustration and desperation.

The girl scrutinized me from head to toe, her gaze intense.

“Okay, you don’t seem like a bad person after all.”

She gestured for me to follow her.

“Why should I?” I shot back, crossing my arms defensively.

“Because if you want to eat, you can either follow me or sit here and starve,” she answered, her tone icy but with a hint of pragmatism.

It seemed I had no other choice. My stomach rumbled again, louder this time, reminding me just how ravenous I was. I looked at her, noticing her determination, and nodded.

“I’m Fael,” I said, extending my hand.

She glanced at my hand and ignored it entirely.

“I’m Mayene,” she said bluntly.

With no idea where this would lead, I followed her through the streets, uncertain but desperate for something—anything—that would lead me back to a sense of belonging and hope.

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