"Ouch! My head… it feels like it's splitting open!"

Raymond groaned, clutching his throbbing skull. His voice was thick with confusion. "Did I... drink last night?"

Half-awake, he pressed his hands to his temples to ease the ache, but instead of bare skin, he felt rough fabric wrapped tightly around his head. Startled, his eyes flew open, and he jolted upright.

"What the…? A bandage? Was I... beaten up?"

Tentatively, he ran his fingers over his scalp, and as he touched a particular spot, a sharp, searing pain shot through him, confirming his suspicions. His head pulsed with pain, but his heart raced with excitement instead of fear.

"Where's my phone? I need to check if my car's okay!" he mumbled, instinctively patting down the bed around him.

Raymond, like any modern man, always kept his phone close; especially with the camera handy for situations like this. But as he searched, he felt the unsettling realization that his phone was nowhere to be found. The surroundings themselves felt wrong. He looked around, blinking as his disorientation turned to confusion.

The room was neither his cozy apartment nor a sterile hospital room, but something entirely foreign. Dark wooden beams lined the ceiling, sloping down like the walls of an attic. The space was cramped, and he realized he was lying on a makeshift bed laid directly on the floor. Half the room was so low that he could only crouch in it, clearly intended for storage.

"Where... am I?" he whispered, the question hanging heavy in the still air.

As if triggered by his confusion, his head began to throb again, but this time the pain felt different. Images, memories, not his own, flooded his mind, overwhelming him until he fell back onto the bed, gritting his teeth.

He lay there, curled in pain, unable to tell how much time had passed. When the sensation finally subsided, he stared blankly at the wooden ceiling, slowly piecing together what had just happened. A small, helpless laugh escaped him.

"So… I've traveled through worlds, haven't I?"

His voice was barely a whisper, the words strange yet undeniable. The memories now etched in his mind weren't his, but belonged to someone else: the original inhabitant of this body.

The young man he had "become" was also called Raymond, though here he was known as Raymond Kelton, an orphan in a world he could scarcely believe. A world filled with magic.

In this new world, everyone underwent an "awakening ceremony" at the age of fifteen at the temple, where those with enough magical potential would awaken into a profession: warrior, magician, priest, archer, and many more. These "professionals," as they were known, wielded powerful abilities and enjoyed a status beyond anything ordinary people could dream of.

And then there was Raymond Kelton. He had turned fifteen just a few weeks ago and had dutifully gone to the temple. But unlike the chosen ones who awakened to a profession, Raymond had... nothing. No special skills, no magical affinity, no future as a professional.

"Well," Raymond sighed, the bitter humor barely covering his disappointment. "It turns out this guy was as much of a nobody here as I was back home."

He couldn't help but laugh; a rueful, almost mocking sound that echoed off the wooden walls. Back in his original world, he had been an ordinary guy living a peaceful, stable life. At least there, in his mundane existence, he'd been safe.

But here? This was a different story altogether.

In this world, humans share the land with a multitude of sub-human races and other beings. However, not all these races are friendly; many harbor deep-seated animosities toward humanity, leading to irreconcilable conflicts. Adding to the peril, powerful monsters roam the land, posing threats that ordinary folks cannot hope to confront.

Three years ago, Raymond's life was irrevocably altered when monsters took his parents, leaving him an orphan. Since then, survival in this unforgiving world had depended on the might of the awakened, those fortunate enough to gain extraordinary abilities to combat these monstrous threats.

"Forget it… I'll leave the monster-hunting to the adventurers and knights," Raymond sighed, frustration mingling with resignation. "I'm just an ordinary guy. My priority should be figuring out how to live my life now."

But even as he spoke, doubts gnawed at him. "Is there really no other way? If my magic affinity isn't strong enough, does that mean I can't awaken a profession at all?" He felt a sense of despair wash over him. "What I wouldn't give for a system; a special ability or insight that's supposed to come with reincarnation!"

Silence lingered in his mind, the absence of any reassuring voice only deepening his despair. "I really can't accept this! Maybe that cheat will appear once I turn eighteen. I'll just have to wait three more years!"

With a forced smile, he tried to lift his spirits, seeking solace in the idea that things might change.

Suddenly, a series of footsteps echoed on the wooden floor outside his room.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

The door creaked open, revealing a beautiful girl clad in a crisp white apron with blue-green trim. Her striking green eyes and flowing red hair made her an unforgettable sight.

As soon as she spotted Raymond sitting up, her distressed expression transformed into one of bright relief. "Raymond! You're awake!" she exclaimed, her voice bubbling with joy.

Before he could respond, she rushed to his side, gently pushing him back onto the bed. "You need to rest! You're hurt, remember? I've already talked to Mrs. Becker. She promised to let you take the day off, so don't worry about work."

Raymond observed her with gratitude, recalling from the original owner's memories that her name was Arya More. The hotel work she mentioned referred to the "Vill Hotel," run by the Becker couple, where he had been working as a waiter to scrape by.

He knew that Arya shared a similar tragic background; both of them were orphans, having lost their parents to the very monsters that haunted their world. That bond had brought them closer, making their friendship a source of comfort in their otherwise bleak lives.

Yet he also remembered the Beckers' notorious reputation for being difficult and exploitative, always finding ways to squeeze more labor out of their employees and often deducting wages under dubious pretenses. "If they find out I've missed work because of my injury, they won't hesitate to take advantage of it," he thought grimly.

Still, Arya's unwavering support warmed his heart. "Thank you, Arya. I really appreciate it," he said sincerely, his voice tinged with emotion.

Her face brightened further at his words. "You're welcome! You've helped me out countless times when I wasn't feeling well. We've got to look out for each other, right?"

Her infectious optimism made Raymond feel a flicker of hope. Despite the challenges ahead, maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't have to face them alone.

Arya seemed to remember something, and a faint blush dusted her cheeks. But soon, a gentle smile spread across her face. She reached out, her fingers brushing lightly over Raymond's hair, stroking it with the same tenderness one might reserve for a small kitten.

Raymond closed his eyes as he felt her fingers moving through his hair, a warm, soothing sensation spreading through him. He couldn't quite put the feeling into words, just that it was intensely comforting, a moment of pure calm he hadn't known he craved.

"It's been a long time since I felt anything like this…" he murmured to himself, his voice barely a whisper. His body relaxed further, and he tilted his head slightly, basking in the gentle care.

But just as he was sinking deeper into this blissful moment, an ear-piercing voice shattered the peace.

"Arya! Get down here at once! We've got customers waiting!" The voice was sharp, grating; unmistakably Mrs. Becker.

The shout rang through the room, breaking the quiet like a slap, and Raymond felt Arya's hand freeze. With a small start, she straightened up, her face turning from warm concern to a look of nervous urgency.

"Oh no, it's already five! The evening crowd's arriving," Arya said, her tone regretful. "I've got to go before Mrs. Becker gets on my case. Rest well, Raymond." She offered him an apologetic smile, a quick goodbye as she prepared to head down.

Raymond knew all too well what Mrs. Becker's scolding sounded like; half an hour of high-pitched criticism, and she expected you to work the entire time without pausing.

"Hold on a second, Arya," he called out, throwing back the quilt and swinging his legs off the bed. "I'll come down with you."

She looked back, alarmed. "But what about your injury?"

"It's nothing, really. I'm fine." His voice was firm, trying to sound reassuring.

Raymond had always prided himself on being self-sufficient, even if it meant pushing through discomfort. He hated inconveniencing others and, just as much, disliked the hassle of lingering in bed. He'd rather be on his feet, no matter how much it hurt, than spend another second upstairs.

He rose, pulling on his work clothes swiftly and heading for the door. "Come on, let's not keep her waiting."

Arya looked at him with concern, but she knew Raymond's stubborn streak. "Fine, but please, don't overdo it!" she said, trailing close behind him as they made their way downstairs.

The Becker Hotel wasn't just a place to sleep; it also doubled as a bustling tavern. The first floor was dedicated to the restaurant, often packed with rowdy patrons who came for the food, drinks, and sometimes, trouble. The second and third floors housed guest rooms, while the top floor was a cramped attic space used for storage and the living quarters for staff members like Raymond and Arya.

Of course, the accommodations weren't free. Every bit of board was deducted from their already meager wages, and any time off was discouraged, Mrs. Becker was vigilant when it came to squeezing work out of them.

As they stepped into the bustling restaurant below, Raymond took a deep breath, bracing himself for the chaos. Arya shot him a quick look, her concern still evident. Her room was just across from his, and they shared more than just space in this cramped world; they shared a mutual understanding that each day's work would only grow more challenging, and they'd have to face it together.

The two of them descended the creaky staircase, arriving on the bustling first floor of the Becker Hotel. The clamor of voices and clinking dishes filled the air, but amidst the noise, a familiar, sharp voice called out.

"Raymond!"

He winced, instinctively stiffening. Looking up, he saw Mrs. Becker at the cashier counter, her gaze fixed on him like a hawk.

Mrs. Becker was a sight to behold, dressed in a flashy red leather coat, with fishnets stretching over her calves, and her face caked in heavy makeup. Her blonde hair was teased into tight, springy curls, framing her face in a way she probably thought looked glamorous. But her thick, muscular arms and the flesh spilling from her fishnets made the outfit less flattering and more intimidating.

Raymond glanced quickly and then averted his eyes, not daring to look again.

Mrs. Becker, however, wasn't about to let him slip away unnoticed. She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes, launching into her tirade. "When did you wake up? You should have come straight down! Do you have any idea how chaotic it's been without you in the kitchen? Do you know how many complaints I've had to deal with because of your absence?"

Raymond opened his mouth to respond, but before he could get a word in, a guest approached the counter.

"Are there any rooms available tonight?"

Mrs. Becker's attention snapped to the guest, and in an instant, her expression morphed into a wide, businesslike smile. "Of course, sir! How many rooms will you be needing?"

Seeing his chance, Arya grabbed Raymond's arm and pulled him toward the kitchen, whispering, "Let's go!"

They darted through the swinging doors into the kitchen, both letting out sighs of relief once they were out of Mrs. Becker's line of fire.

"Oh, that was too close," Raymond muttered, resting his hands on his knees, his breath coming in short bursts. Mrs. Becker's constant nagging grated on his nerves more than any physical injury. He couldn't stand that piercing voice, and sometimes it took all his willpower not to snap.

Arya chuckled, still catching her breath. "We got lucky. More guests arriving means she's too busy playing hostess to keep pestering us."

They shared a laugh, their relief a brief but welcome reprieve.

But just then, another voice broke in. "You two done gossiping yet? There's work to be done, you know."

Raymond looked up to see Seth, another waiter, looming over them. Seth was older, taller, and broad-shouldered, with blond hair and a perpetual scowl. He glared down at Raymond with thinly veiled annoyance. "You have any idea how much extra work we all had to do yesterday because you were slacking off?"

Raymond opened his mouth to reply, but Arya was quicker, stepping forward with a fiery look in her eyes. "Seth, enough! If you hadn't dropped the garlic and left it for someone else to clean up, Raymond wouldn't have slipped and gotten hurt!"

Seth hesitated, his jaw working as though he wanted to argue. But Arya's fierce expression held firm, and finally, he scoffed, crossing his arms. "Pathetic. Hiding behind a girl, are we, Raymond? A loser like you can't even stand up for himself."

He turned on his heel and stalked off, leaving a tense silence in his wake.

Arya looked back at Raymond, her expression softening. "Don't let Seth get to you," she said gently, her tone comforting. "He only lashes out because he's got nothing else to prove. Don't take it personally."

Raymond gave a slight nod, his face calm, though his brow furrowed briefly. Arya noticed his quiet resilience and relaxed, relieved that Seth's words hadn't left any visible scars.

Raymond shrugged off Seth's jibes, feeling almost amused. He had long accepted his status as a waste in his previous life, and it was clear that Seth was merely trying to provoke him. Such tactics were low, but they often worked well on younger, more impulsive individuals.

"Too bad for him," Raymond thought, placing a careful hand on the tender bruise on his head, a reminder of the scuffle that had led to this moment.

"I'm going to entertain the guests," Arya said, glancing back at him with a concerned look. "If Seth and the others give you any trouble, just come find me, okay?"

Her role was vital; the dining hall was starting to fill up, and she needed to ensure that guests felt welcomed and attended to. As she walked away, however, a flicker of uncertainty crossed her face. She noticed something different about him today. Usually, when Seth taunted him, Raymond would turn crimson with anger. But today, he seemed unnervingly calm. "Maybe it's the head injury," she mused to herself, shaking her head as she left.

Once alone, Raymond made his way into the kitchen. His responsibilities included serving food, clearing tables, and washing dishes; a never-ending cycle of labor. As he entered, he spotted Seth deep in conversation with two other waiters, Andre and Mike, their heads huddled together like a pack of wolves plotting. When Seth caught sight of him, a smug grin spread across his face.

"Ah, just my luck," Raymond sighed internally. He was all too familiar with Andre and Mike, who often joined forces with Seth to make his life miserable, frequently dumping their tasks onto him.

"The food for table number three is ready! Hurry up and take it!" The chef's booming voice cut through the chatter of the kitchen.

"Hey, Raymond! Did you hear that? Get moving!" Andre barked, pointing at the plate with a gleeful smirk. Though smaller than Raymond, Andre had no qualms about barking orders, often using Seth and Mike to bolster his authority.

"Of course," Raymond thought, his patience thinning. He had long learned that kindness often invited bullying. Taking a deep breath, he suddenly shouted, "Ah! My head hurts! It really hurts!"

He doubled over, clutching his head dramatically. The sudden outburst caught Seth, Andre, and Mike off guard. For a moment, they stared, uncertain whether to laugh or scold.

"Raymond, stop it!" Seth snapped, irritation flashing across his face.

"What are you waiting for? Andre, bring the food to me!" Just then, the chef returned, glaring at them as he noticed the plate still sitting untouched.

In the kitchen hierarchy, the chef was king, and nobody wanted to face his wrath. Andre, realizing he had no choice, reluctantly picked up the plate, shooting a dark look at Raymond as he passed. "Just wait for it, kid," he hissed, the threat hanging in the air.

Raymond straightened up, a sly smile creeping onto his face as he watched them scurry away. "Let them come," he thought. "Today might just be different."