In a quiet study lined with camel-red wool carpet, the morning light slanted through the window, falling upon the silhouette behind the desk.

Fine dust particles danced in the air as an elegant, slender hand held a wine glass, the blood-red liquid swirling within.

A complex dark purple hexagram suddenly materialized before the desk, disturbing the flowing tranquility. Space cracked open, and a tall purple figure emerged from the void.

With an alluring figure, a whip-like tail, cloven hooves, and narrow enchanting eyes gazing at the figure behind the desk.

Just as the atmosphere was about to turn sensual, it came to an abrupt halt at the succubus's slightly parted purple lips:

"Oink oink—"

A cool breeze hit his face as the wine swirled in the glass. The young and handsome figure froze: "What...?"

The succubus's nimble tongue licked her lips: "Oink oink oink—"

More unrestrained drool fell on his cheeks, emanating a stench fouler than dirt.

The young man instinctively raised his hand to block it, and then, the boy curled up in the hay woke from his spoiled dream.

A pig wagged its tail, emanating the same scent as the succubus, "snort snort" as it passed by.

The boy fell back into the still-warm hay, yearning for the warmth and the succubus.

His loose blue pajamas were covered in stains, mud spots caked in his graying black hair.

The sky outside the grass hut was gloomy, with fine rain drizzling down. Water dripped through holes in the roof, spattering mud drops that became one of the culprits awakening him.

Today marked the third day since he came to this world through that door.

When he wandered for hours through the forest meadow with his several-years-younger body but couldn't find the culprit that appeared and vanished—an ornately carved wooden door—An'nan, not wanting to linger in the wolf-howling forest after nightfall, followed a dirt road at dusk and arrived at a medieval-like town.

Thus began his grand, thrilling, fantastical journey of... starvation.

This wasn't the medieval world he knew.

The conversations between residents and travelers with unique skin and eye colors weren't in any known language.

"Oink oink—"

A dirty pig's head poked out from the pen under a dilapidated hut nearby.

But pigs were still pigs, and the sun and moon remained the same.

An'nan waved at it. As the light rain gradually ceased, he crawled out of the hay pile, preparing for another day's work.

Digging through the hay beneath him, An'nan pocketed the copper coins he'd earned over the past two days.

The gloomy post-rain sky was misty, and the incoming dampness made people shiver.

An'nan wrapped his dirty and damp pajamas tightly around himself, walked along the narrow alley flowing with sewage to the town's busiest street, and familiarly sat among a group of raggedly dressed, foul-smelling vagrants, beginning today's begging work—

After all, unable to communicate, he could do nothing but beg.

His lack of expertise even meant his daily earnings were only one-third to one-seventh of the surrounding beggars'. Usually one coin, three at most.

An'nan spent just one copper coin daily on a small, unpalatable but filling piece of bran bread mixed with sawdust, saving the excess for unforeseen circumstances.

But saying An'nan only engaged in shameful begging would be biased. He had learned one phrase in the otherworld language: "Get lost," though it might mean "so dirty" or "don't block the way" or "how filthy."

A shadow darker than storm clouds suddenly fell accompanied by unintelligible voices.

Today's luck seemed good, with a kind person willing to show charity so quickly.

An'nan looked up, and all he could imagine was Tom's owner from Tom and Jerry.

He was Tom in this scenario.

An'nan hoped she was saying things like "Oh, poor child" or "He needs some food and clothes and money," but the woman's greedy, pitying eyes between her fleshy features might have been saying "Oh, what a tender morsel" or "He needs a warm bed and embrace."

The desire-bearing woman beckoned to the conflicted An'nan. He wanted to shout at her... but what could be worse than freezing to death hungry on the street?

Minutes later, the weak and helpless An'nan followed behind the bear-like robust woman, while surrounding beggars eagerly fought over the abandoned hay pile.

Standing on the street, a thin, malnourished, hollow-bellied little horse pulling a fully loaded cart passed in front of An'nan.

Oh, poor little pony.

...

"Why is his hair black..."

"Could he be an elf..."

"The tavern's bard said elves all have pointed ears..."

"Maybe he's mixed-blood..."

"This boy must be nobility, I've heard him speak, couldn't understand but it sounds as beautiful as singing..."

"Look, he's about to eat..."

In the evening as dusk faded, three figures crouched by the window, whispering.

The robust figure among them patted the person beside her: "Martin, go get some bread and clothes, he must be starving, drinking just soup will hurt his stomach."

"Oh."

The figure called Martin left the window, entered the room carrying an oil lamp and a linen coat, ran to the kitchen, tucked the lamp under his arm, and grabbed a black bread from under the kitchen cloth.

Meanwhile, An'nan, completely unaware of the activity outside the window, waited anxiously. The unknown made him fearful, the woman made him uneasy. At least there was a bowl of hot, fragrant meat soup to warm his heart.

Bang—

An'nan, sipping the meat soup, looked up startled as the door was pushed open, and under the oil lamp, a long stick-like shadow reached in behind the door...

...

An'nan had almost attacked these people who were being kind to him.

Gratefully accepting the bread and clothes, An'nan instinctively wanted to thank them, but remembering they spoke a different language, he could only smile quietly.

The black bread and meat soup filled An'nan's long-empty stomach to bursting. Soon after, the woman and a thin, dark middle-aged man carried a bed into the room, pointing at An'nan, then at the clothes.

An'nan understood their meaning and changed into the faded linen coat.

The clothes were somewhat loose on An'nan's current frame and a bit rough, but far better than his mud-covered, dirty pajamas.

An'nan sat on the low steps in the courtyard, gazing at the night sky.

The woman and man lived in the bedroom next door, while the young person had gone out somewhere.

Now well-fed and warm, he finally had time to think about things beyond survival.

Looking at the sparse stars under moonlight, An'nan began to miss Earth's bustle, Earth's food, miss...

A burning flame suddenly rose outside the town, like fireworks illuminating the night sky. In the direction where the flames appeared, two pursuing figures fought outside the town, bursting forth strange lights and explosions.

Not tricks or illusions, but genuine magic of some kind.

As the two figures moved away, the flames dimmed and vanished, and the surging darkness of night swallowed An'nan's face.

What also vanished was An'nan's homesickness.