Johan's eyelids fluttered open, revealing a panorama of washed-out greys. At first, he thought it might be a dream. Yet the sharpness of the pebbles digging into his back and the coolness of the air confirmed its reality. Before him spread a village square, reminiscent of forgotten times — crumbling cottages with moss-covered roofs, signboards that creaked mournfully in the wind, and an old, decrepit well whose once-sturdy stone now bore the marks of decay.
'Where the hell am I?' Johan thought, the cynicism evident in his mental voice. 'A period drama set? Or some sort of renaissance fair? So 14th floor is some sort of roleplay?'
