Home Sweet Home
Welcome back to your studio apartment.
If memory served, I didn't set a single foot outside that room for the first three days. I stayed inside, plain and simple — just me and my one-room. A blissful stretch of self-quarantine.
At first I collapsed to my knees right there on the floor and wailed like a dying animal. Later, when I'd cried myself to the edge of passing out, I made a conscious effort to choke it back and hold the sobs in.
A full year had passed, and I'd finally made it back to my room — so naturally, I assumed it was all over. Once I'd gathered my wits and steadied my body, the very first thing I did was shut the door from the inside and open it again. Surely that would end the nightmare and unfold the real world on the other side.
For one fleeting moment, thoughts flickered through my head: a year of unexplained absence from work, a year of unpaid rent and building fees, how on earth I'd explain any of this to the people I knew. A happy little worry, however brief.
"AAAAAHHH!! What the hell is this!!"
But sadly, it was not over.
Close the door, open it again — and beyond it lay the same view as before: the scenery outside that old barn. I locked it, unlocked it, opened it. I stepped outside for a moment, came back in, and opened it again. I opened it over and over, flung it wide, eased it gently — same result, every single time.
"I didn't go back?! Then what the hell IS this place?"
Confusion.
Chaos.
Straining to keep my composure, I tried to work out what on earth was wrong with this room within the bounds of everything I knew to be true.
So when I got dragged into another world... my room came with me.
Then why... are the lights still on?
Now that I thought about it, that was odd. The fluorescent light overhead was still burning bright — exactly as I'd left it when I popped out to the convenience store for water.
And then.
Beep. Beep. Beeeeep.
?!!
It had been so long since I'd heard it that for a moment I couldn't place the sound at all — what it was, or where it was coming from. But the room was small, and I quickly realized it was the microwave.
Wait... could it be...
Half doubting, half hoping, I edged toward it. Rice I'd heated and left sitting for a year. By any sane expectation, the inside of that microwave should have been a kingdom of mold.
"What the hell!?"
I opened it, and the instant rice was steaming hot, as if it had finished cooking seconds ago. The beeping had been the machine's built-in signal: contents fully heated — don't forget to take them out and eat.
No way...
Time never passed in here at all?!
I woke the computer from sleep mode and checked the clock. I was right. Not a single second had passed since the moment I'd walked out that door.
Hold on — if the computer works, what about the internet?
My heart skipped.
The internet. It worked too!
Search engines, YouTube, streaming services, shopping sites — all of it, working!
Come to think of it — my phone. What about my phone?!
I fished out my smartphone, powered it on, and debated who to call first. I tried a friend.
"The number you have dialed is outside the service area and cannot be connected. Please try again later."
"So that's a no..."
Next I called the owner of the phone-case shop I used to frequent. Same result. I gave up after three tries. What doesn't work here simply doesn't work — no amount of stubborn repetition turns a no into a yes. That much, everything I'd been through so far had taught me for certain.
Grrrowl.
First things first — I was starving. Food!
I pulled out the instant rice and whatever side dishes the fridge had and inhaled them like a man possessed. I choked from eating too fast, and the memory hit me square in the face: the day I'd run out of water and gone out to buy some.
Goddammit, why did it have to be water I went out for!
All because of one lousy bottle of water!
Fuck, I could've just drunk tap water!
To think I put myself through all that hell over a single bottle!
Spoonfuls of rage!
And of course, the kitchen sink produced perfectly clean water — hot water included — without a hitch.
In Greenhill, getting clean water meant climbing all the way up to the upper reaches of the stream on the hill. So most households filled big wooden barrels with three days' worth and used it for everything: drinking, washing, cooking. Compared to that barrel water — left sitting for days with debris floating in it — tap water was impossibly clean, cool, sweet, and delicious!
If heaven exists, is this it?
This is the absolute best!
During those three days cooped up inside, I ran experiment after experiment on my own. Of course, plenty more facts came to light here and there afterward, too. So that none of it would slip my mind, I organized everything in the notes app on my phone. Here's the rough summary:
1. The key I carry lets me return to my room at any time.
It doesn't have to be the barn door I first came out of. Any door with a handle and a working keyhole — regardless of type or size — becomes a door into my room. (Insane!)
Tested on the barn door and front door of an outlying farmhouse, plus doors big and small on houses all across Greenhill.
But crates and chests don't work, keyhole or not. It only works on doors shaped and sized for at least one person to pass through.
I've tried to have the key copied — visited a dozen-odd smithies in Greenhill and even out to Stonefield — but none of them had the craft to replicate it perfectly.
I even went to a gemstone artisan and got a near-identical copy made, but in the end, it would not summon my room.
Bottom line: without this house key, the room cannot be summoned. So never, NEVER, NEVER, NEVER lose it!!
2. Time inside the room had been frozen at the exact moment I left for the other world — but the instant I returned, it resumed flowing normally.
Time seems to run 24 hours a day, same as the other world. But since the other world was in broad daylight when I came back while my room sat in the dead of night, day and night are flipped every time I return.
3. All the modern-world infrastructure I used to enjoy — electricity, gas, water, Wi-Fi — works perfectly. Satisfying!
Everything just as it was. One thing I learned later, though: skip the rent or maintenance fees and a utility-shutoff warning notice comes flying in. (Fair enough, honestly.) Never actually experienced it, but I'd best be careful not to get cut off.
4. Communication with the people of the modern world does not work.
This one truly baffled me: I enjoy every bit of infrastructure in here, yet I cannot reach a single soul outside.
Calls and texts are all dead, and even posts on internet forums, YouTube comments, basic inquiries — nothing I type ever gets registered.
Sometimes I'd hammer the keyboard trying to leave a single comment and nothing would appear on screen.
I figured the keyboard was broken and tried typing on my phone instead — same result. But typed into a search bar? Worked instantly.
As if the message were: you may use the internet, but you may not speak to the people of that world.
My strong suspicion: someone deliberately blocked it.
5. And yet, online shopping and food delivery work.
Shopping apps, delivery apps, banking apps — deposits, transfers, online payments, refunds, all of it functional.
Orders arrive by express delivery in a day or two, same as always. Food delivery too.
But of course, typing even a few words into an order's options field doesn't work.
There is, however, one absolute condition for receiving my orders.
I must not be in the room.
If I never leave, deliveries never arrive. Only when I'm out and the room sits empty for even a little while does the delivery come at its scheduled time.
When I pop out to the other world and return, somehow my ordered goods and food are sitting meekly in front of the shoe cabinet by the front door. With communication impossible, I have no way of knowing how the drivers pick the lock and get in.
This, too, feels like some unidentified someone slipping things in from outside the door during the window when I'm gone. Shudder.....
6. Stepping back out of the room always takes me through the last door I entered by.
So with eyes all around, do not carelessly use the key on any random door just because I want to go home. Always confirm no one is watching before using the key's power. An empty house in a secluded spot, or a keyholed barn, is perfect.
I never properly weighed myself on a scale, but I'd probably dropped around fifteen kilos since coming to this world. That was back in the early days, when I was eking out survival on handouts, wasted down to the bone to the point I genuinely wondered if I'd starve to death. Even once odd jobs started earning me real money, my condition didn't improve much. A few coppers of steady income meant I could manage one proper meal of bad food a day — that I didn't drop dead from chronic malnutrition and endless labor was something I owed the gods my thanks for.
After reclaiming my room, with three proper, tasty meals a day, a comfortable bed, and a real wash every morning guaranteeing my hygiene, I transformed beyond recognition in a remarkably short time. Getting a body that was neither fat nor skinny — just right — was nice, but better still was having leisure time again.
For about a month, I did absolutely nothing, spending nearly all my time at home. Eating, sleeping, shitting, gaming — just like my old holidays back in the modern world.
But I didn't spend the entire month that way. I ordered hair dye and colored my hair brown, the most common color around here. I ordered blue colored contacts and gave myself an eye color that wouldn't raise eyebrows among the locals. Then, dressed in clean, medieval-style clothes that fit right in, I stepped outside.
I'd lie in the middle of the sun-drenched meadow and sunbathe, or stroll down to the stream to fill an empty plastic bottle with drinking water, or wander the market and the shopkeepers' alleys of Greenhill in clean, tidy clothes, browsing the wares each store had on display.
Feels good.
Like I'm on vacation in another world.
Even looking back now, that was the happiest time I'd had here. Nothing more had changed than eating, sleeping, and washing properly — yet it felt like I was touring a medieval European village. Even the empty green meadows felt like a tourist attraction.
Of course, the lack of a return flight was a bit of a problem.
"Luciel, my friend, you're looking different these days. Taking it easy, are we?"
"Luciel, if you've a moment, take home a pound of meat! Butchered just this morning — no gaminess, no gristle, delicious!"
"A fine day to you! How about a handsome outfit in the latest city fashion, Master Luciel?"
My leisurely new appearance had visibly changed how the villagers treated me. But it was too late. I remembered exactly how these merchants had treated me at first — waving their hands, saying I reeked, shooing this beggar off like I was filth, no?
They didn't know what had happened to me, but they'd clearly concluded I'd crawled out of destitution and made some money.
And it wasn't just the merchants whose attitude had changed.
"Look over there... did we always have a man like that in our village?"
"You seriously don't recognize him? That's Luciel — the one who used to shovel cow dung."
"Oh my, really?!"
"He's filled out, so he's rather handsome now, isn't he?"
"His whole body's transformed, hasn't it? Was his face always that handsome?"
Even the unmarried maidens of the village began sneaking glances my way. Apparently, when a vagrant who might starve to death any given day cleaned himself up properly, he started looking like a man worth seriously dating — worth marrying, even.
So in this world, money really is power.
The realization struck me anew. It was far more direct and blatant than the modern world.
But I couldn't while away my days in this idle luxury forever. Ordering the delicacies of the modern world by delivery, keeping this warm bed of mine — it all took money. The savings from my working days had limits. My bank balance would hit bottom eventually, and when it did, I'd be right back to my old way of living.
It was time to start looking for a way. A way to earn in the other world and grow my assets in this one.
"Awake at last, sir?"
"Sleep well, Gote?"
I'd been so exhausted I'd slept until nearly noon. I washed up haphazardly and stepped out of my room to find the sun already high in the sky. I'd slept plenty, yet somehow felt even more tired.
This is why dealing in slaves is such exhausting work. Any door in Stonefield would do — sleep one full day in my room and I'd be right as rain — but that would cost the store a day of business, and my precious customers would have to wait one more day.
And yesterday there'd been one extra-special guest, too.
In my pajamas, a newspaper tucked under my arm, I sat down at the table. Greengote, as ever, set down a plate with a slice of whole-wheat toast from the toaster, two strips of bacon fried up on the portable burner, and a fried egg, then poured milk into my mug — a late breakfast, properly served.
For the record, the bread had been ordered online. Local loaves were ground from coarse flour — the texture was gritty and they went hard in no time. Terrible stuff. But this was a city built on livestock, and with money in hand, milk, eggs, and meat could be had without limit. Perhaps because it was all one hundred percent organic, it soared far past anything I'd eaten in the modern world. The only catch was that refrigeration hadn't developed here — unless you were a special case like me with a fridge, meat was rarely fresh unless eaten right off the butcher's block.
"Is Erina still asleep? You made hers too, right?"
"It appears your guest rose and departed in the small hours, sir."
I see.
I quietly unfolded the newspaper. Then I shot to my feet.
"She LEFT?! You mean she RAN AWAY?!"
"She was not your guest at all, then... she was truly a slave?"
"Well... hmm. Let's call her a slave who's like a guest. Or a guest who's like a slave..."
My explanation left Gote flustered and at a loss. This whole mess was entirely my fault — I hadn't given him any specific instructions. This mutant goblin executed anything I ordered with terrifying excellence, but conversely, absent separate orders, he considered it overstepping and never touched my affairs on his own initiative.
When I'd come back to the store, Erina had been wearing my hoodie. No master in his right mind lets his slave lounge about in a premium silk hoodie. Just from that alone, it was obvious why Gote hadn't taken her for one.
"Where did she sleep? The storeroom?"
"Yes, sir. There is a spare room on the second floor, but that is your own chamber."
I opened the storeroom door. It was where I stacked boxes of fast-moving goods and lined the shelves, neat and orderly. She hadn't touched a thing — every box sat unopened, still sealed in its packaging. The sleeping bag Erina had apparently used lay folded neatly on the floor, and on top of it, placed with care, sat a pair of white women's panties.
"These are... underwear?"
"She was covered head to toe in sweat and mud, and I judged she would have nothing to change into, so I took various items from inventory and laid them out for her, however..."
"I take it the panties and bra felt strange to her."
"Yes, sir."
It wasn't hard to see why Erina hadn't worn the panty-and-bra set Gote had given her. Probably less a matter of size than of the feel being utterly foreign to her. I'd had quite the struggle myself, back when I first sold these to the noble daughters — the moment they saw me about to explain how to unhook and fasten a bra, they shrieked and even ordered their guards to drag out this lewd, filthy, depraved pervert of a peddler at once.
So Gote had fed her, washed her, and put her up here. With no instructions from me, he wouldn't have locked her up anywhere or barred the front door, either.
Truthfully, the reason I hadn't explained her situation to Gote wasn't laziness so much as not feeling any real need to. She hadn't shown the slightest will to run last night, after all. After nearly coming to serious harm, I'd assumed she'd stay put for at least a night without a word of complaint. I know I would have.
I hurriedly threw on my clothes.
"Is there anything I can do to help, sir?"
Gote asked me cautiously, sick with guilt.
"It's not your fault, so don't apologize over it. Oh, right — that drone you tried out a while back. You've kept it safe?"
"A... drone... you say...? Do you mean that bird made of mechanical parts, with four round wings, which you said you would occasionally fly for your leisurely amusement, sir?"
"Exactly. Could you use it to search for her?"
"I, sir?!"
"You flew it before, remember? You said it was fun."
"That is true, however..."
Gote hurried off and fetched the drone from the storeroom. When he powered it on, the battery was nearly drained. I charged it up with the high-capacity power bank I'd given him, then pulled two walkie-talkies from a drawer — one for Gote, one for me.
"Launch it the moment it's charged enough. If you spot anything, radio me right away."
My heart was racing, but preparation had to be done properly. I also confirmed four rounds still sat in the cylinder of the pistol tucked in my inner pocket. And just in case, this time I'd bring along one non-lethal weapon. I had no wish to take another life if I could help it.
This time I went past Gote's station and, using a stepladder, pulled down a dust-covered box from the very top shelf of the display rack.
"And what might this be, sir?"
Gote adjusted his spectacles and, looking intrigued, helped me open the box.
"Not for sale."
This was my self-defense collapsible baton — a medium-sized, folding three-section baton of aluminum blended with lightweight steel. Like the drone, it had never been stock for selling; I'd bought it for my own use. It was a weapon, plain and simple — would a sundries merchant go around selling weapons? That would make me a weapons dealer. Other goods were one thing, but selling modern-world weaponry to the people of this world was an absolute taboo of mine.
I should have been carrying it every time I stepped outside, but it was bulky and heavy, so I'd never thought to bring it along. Complacency, plain and simple. Yesterday, I'd made it through on the pistol alone.
"Anything missing?"
"About two silver and nine copper coins, sir. She also took the unboxing knife. And a candle and matches."
"That's all?"
"As far as I have been able to verify, yes."
Honestly, I was surprised the stolen goods amounted to so little. I'd expected her to grab everything she could carry, whatever came to hand. Looking at it now, she hadn't even set foot in the shop proper. The key hung right beside the side door leading into the shop, and she hadn't used it. If I were a first-time visitor to this store, I'd have snatched up all manner of curiosities — but she apparently couldn't bring herself to take things she didn't know how to use.
It did worry me a little that she hadn't taken any food or drink. If her flight stretched long, hunger would surely catch up with her. And since she never entered the shop, no clothing was missing either — though I kept several sets of women's wear that would look quite fine even by this world's standards. Erina, it seemed, hadn't wanted to properly loot my store so much as throw on whatever was at hand and get out. Not that she'd have walked out naked. Ah, right — the hoodie I'd first dressed her in. And Gote said he'd given her something like women's sleepwear. She'd have put those back on and left in them.
"You didn't frighten that half-elf or treat her poorly, did you?"
"Not at all, sir. Though... I suppose my goblin appearance may have frightened her."
Piecing together Gote's account, he seemed to have done his utmost, in his own way, to play the host to Erina. And yet she'd fled anyway — probably out of a vague, formless terror of her slave status. Perhaps she simply wanted to find her way back home, however she could.
Gote, for his part, was thoroughly bewildered. Because I had never clearly defined what standing Erina held with me, he couldn't quite get his bearings. Honestly, our relationship was still pretty murky, even to me. I had no intention of treating her as a slave, but she wasn't quite my equal either; I didn't plan to bind her, but I didn't plan to set her completely free either. How was I supposed to put that?
Ugh. Even I find it confusing.
"Are you going to retrieve your guest — forgive me, sir, your slave? You have no idea where she has gone."
"She's in the same boat. So she'll likely retrace the way she came. She'll be back by evening at the latest."
"Shall I prepare a meal for the slave as well, then?"
Gote asked as he cleared away my breakfast plates. Beneath the question lay an unspoken probe: did I intend to keep treating this runaway slave humanely going forward? I nodded without a moment's hesitation.
"Although..."
Just as I was about to head out, Gote, unable to contain his curiosity any longer, asked:
"If that woman is a slave... how much did you pay to win her at auction?"
"Three."
"Three silver?"
"Three gold."
Gote startled so badly he nearly dropped the plates in his hands.
From here on, I needed to move a little faster. If Erina left Greenhill — especially if she made it as far as the outskirts of Stonefield — the crowds would only thicken from there, and finding her would become harder still.