Scroll 04: The Day After
Alaster’s eyelids fluttered open to his new reality, allowing his violet irises and pupils to adjust with superhuman speed to the first light of morning.
Golden rays filtered through the wooden window, drawing lines of floating dust in the bedroom air.
No bells, Alaster thought, keeping a second of silence as he waited for the echo of an alarm clock or the metropolitan bustle that usually marked his days on Earth. No deity to give me instructions either...
A slight, almost imperceptible smile curved his lips. Better that way. No one dictating orders to him, no corporations, and no deities with contracts or obligations.
He propped himself up on his elbows. Looking down at the end of the mattress, he noticed his feet sticking out from under the coarse woolen blanket. They looked completely different from what he remembered: they were stylized, neatly pale, and incredibly devoid of bulging veins or imperfections.
Okay, I'm really not human anymore, he told himself, moving his toes with a strange sensation that ran down his spine. Those feet border on... unnatural. Too perfect.
He got out of bed, dragging his body with a newfound lightness.
Yesterday, while the innkeeper’s wife was showing him the room, Alaster had discovered something highly annoying: she couldn't smell the foul, pungent odor coming from the window. The establishment's latrines were located over thirty feet away in the backyard; however, while the rest of the guests walked through the hallways without noticing the slightest inconvenience, he was bombarded by an unbearable stench that turned his stomach.
At first, when he first stepped into this world, he thought nature itself had changed—that the reds and greens were more intense, and the scents fresher due to the lack of pollution. But no.
"It's my senses..." he whispered to himself, pausing in front of the wooden frame. "They are highly heightened."
He looked out the half-open window. Far down the cobblestone street, he locked his eyes on a small, distant window and tried to focus his vision further. Reality gave a subtle forward lurch; it didn't work exactly like a telescope, but the image became sharp enough to let him see the people in the building opposite stretching and beginning their morning routines.
This is great. He looked down at his own hand, and his vision snapped back to normal in a blink. I can get used to this...
He approached the metal basin, which was refilled daily with fresh water. As he leaned over, his reflection in the liquid greeted him with a sharpness that made him recoil a millimeter. To that, he definitely didn't know if he could get used to.
His violet eyes stood out with a supernatural, almost phosphorescent glow. The room was in semi-darkness because Alaster had closed the window halfway to block the exterior stench; even so, his new sight allowed him to see every corner with the same clarity as if it were wide open. Those violet eyes, gleaming in the darkness of the room, looked like those of a creature of the night—something threatening and predatory. His overall appearance was incredibly handsome, with angular features that cut through the light, but those eyes gave him an ethereal air.
I look like some kind of vampire, but a thousand times more attractive, he thought with a grimace.
His morning self-investigation, however, had revealed a crucial detail that restored calm to his masculine pride. Early the previous day, Alaster had feared he had lost out in the attribute distribution after changing races, initially finding something the size of a finger due to the cold. But after some manipulation and the natural flow of blood, the organ proved to be not only completely functional, but to possess a strange magical effect.
Joseph observed how subtle sparks of energy traced down his "partner in crime" in longitudinal lines, helping it transform from a smurf into a titan of white porcelain—perfectly proportioned and devoid of any human imperfection.
What a relief not to end up an eunuch or something worse...! he thought, exhaling the held air.
Joseph—now definitively Alaster—washed his face with the freezing water from the basin, rubbing his eyes to dispel the lethargy of the elven dream. He used a bar of rustic soap left for him to clean his bluish hair and, as he dried himself with a cloth that turned out to be truly coarse against his newly sensitive skin, he finally felt clean. He noted, however, that his body emitted no recognizable human odor; there was no trace of sweat or grease, only neutrality.
He dressed in the outfit they had bought him earlier: the linen shirt that hugged his shoulders smoothly, the brown trousers—tight but comfortable—the high boots of flexible leather, and the deep blue tunic with brown accents that completed his silhouette.
He left the room, walked quickly down the creaking wooden hallways, and lightly descended the stairs from the fourth floor. As he went down, the building's scents transformed. The unpleasant smell of the street was buried by the dense aroma of frying eggs, freshly baked bread, and a strong, rustic coffee.
Upon stepping onto the ground floor, the large common room opened before him. It was a spacious area, furnished with tables and chairs of various sizes, alongside comfortable-looking sofas nestled in the corners next to tea tables made of raw, unpolished, and unadorned wood. Many patrons were already seated, devouring their rations and talking about their daily business.
As soon as Alaster was fully downstairs, the murmur dropped instantly. He felt a wave of gazes locking onto him.
Some men stared with direct, poorly hidden malice; several had weathered faces, brawl scars, and the look of common thugs, while others were simply pot-bellied types holding their mugs tighter as he passed. The more ordinary-looking patrons, however, only glanced at him for a second with curiosity before returning their attention to their plates and tankards.
On the other hand, some girls seated at distant tables stared at him intently—an intensity that Alaster, with his zero experience being the center of attention, didn't know how to interpret. Had he been more experienced, he would have realized what it was: pure desire.
He felt exposed, as if walking naked down a runway, so he quickened his pace toward the safety of the bar. There stood Barnaby, the burly owner of the inn, wiping the surface with a greasy cloth. Upon seeing the elf approach, he stopped his task and let out a snort.
"Morning," the innkeeper grunted, looking him up and down sternly. "Are you having breakfast? It's included in what was paid yesterday. Take a seat at that table by the window. It'll be ready when it's ready."
Alaster felt intimidated by the six-foot-five mass of muscle in front of him. But just as he took a step back to put some distance between them, a short woman came flying out of a back entrance behind the bar. Taking a surprising leap, she delivered a loud slap right to the back of the giant's neck.
"Ow, you brute! Don't treat the young man like that!" she yelled in a shrill but authoritative voice.
Barnaby didn't even blink or talk back; he simply went back to wiping the bar with a furrowed brow, creating a highly comical image due to the massive size difference.
The woman immediately turned to Alaster, her expression shifting into a large, warm, motherly smile.
"Hello, young man. Forgive my husband, he doesn't know how to behave..."
"It's fine, Mrs. Marly..." Alaster replied, forcing a smile to break the tension.
The woman widened her grin and pointed toward the back tables with courtesy.
"Why don't you take a seat? My daughter will bring you breakfast in a jiffy!"
Alaster thanked her internally, relieved he didn't have to deal with the innkeeper.
"Yes, I'll wait," he said.
He walked over to the window and sat on the rustic wooden chair. The wood was cold, but the sunlight at least warmed the air. It was then that his ears, sharpened by his elven physiology, caught a familiar voice blending with a much higher, singsong one a couple of tables over. It was Arya, having breakfast alongside a girl with feline features.
"Tell me, meow!" the stranger's high-pitched voice insisted.
"Tell you what... I don't understand what you're talking about, Mirage," Arya replied in her usual dry, listless tone.
"Don't play mysterious, Arya! I'm talking about those rumors, meow!"
"What rumors?"
"The ones saying you were seen with an elf! One you were standing very close to in a clothing shop yesterday. The gossip is all over the Guild, meow... They say he's your handsome secret lover, meow!"
Alaster felt a small, legitimate triumph inside. Being called a "handsome secret lover" in the halls of a fantasy guild was something the old Joseph would have never dreamed of. However, Arya's response came immediately, cold as an iceberg.
"He is not a lover or a boyfriend," the elf snorted, cutting the air with her hand. "And I only accompanied him because he's a clumsy guy who knows absolutely nothing about anything. He's like a big child I can't leave alone because a carriage might run him over... Don't listen to nonsense. Besides, he's not handsome... he's... average."
Alaster felt his newly upgraded self-esteem plummet, crashing hard against the inn's wooden floor. The blow was physical; a hollow feeling in his stomach.
That's what you get for forgetting who you are, he scolded himself in a self-destructive train of thought, staring fixedly at the knots in the table. Just because of a skin upgrade, nothing is going to change on the inside. Ground yourself, Joseph, or you'll end up badly.
"H... hello!"
The interruption cut his thoughts short. Lifting his head, Alaster was greeted by the wide smile of a pretty young girl. She had sun-kissed skin of a beautiful cinnamon color that contrasted with gray, feminine, and highly expressive eyes. Her hair was a coppery blonde tone, and her entire presence radiated an innocence so pure it almost burned the retinas.
"I'm Jinneth... Are you Alaster?"
Inside, Jinneth’s mind was a chaotic mess: No way! I can't believe Mom didn't tell me Ary's boyfriend was an elf... No, not an elf! The god of elves! Oh, and me...! Is my hair okay? Waaaa, I can't do anything about it now! I hope he doesn't notice my worn-out dress! Wait, wait, wait... He's Arya's boyfriend. Besides, elves are all apathetic and anti-social, Jinneth, behave yourself.
"Hello, Jinneth," Alaster said, flashing a genuine smile, caught by the girl's obvious kindness.
Jinneth stared at him, trying to hide her scrutiny.
"Are you Ary's boyfriend?" she asked, dropping the diminutive with familiarity.
Ary? Alaster repeated in his mind, his smile fading a bit as he recalled the words he had just overheard seconds ago.
His gaze dropped to the wooden tray the girl was placing on the table. Jinneth set down a plate with fried eggs, thick bacon, and bread, but Alaster was too deep in his own disappointment to notice the slight trembling in the young woman's hands.
The elf let out a small huff, though he recovered his light laughter so as not to seem rude.
"No, we don't have that kind of relationship. I'm single," he clarified with a firm voice.
He didn't notice a spark of relief lighting up the girl's gray eyes. In her mind, Jinneth celebrated: If Ary doesn't care... then he's single! But... what do I say to him?
Jinneth bit her lower lip, unable to look away. Alaster’s violet eyes, glowing almost magically in such close proximity, were something any woman in that world would find extremely attractive; that subtle flare could only mean one thing: power, something more alluring than a great treasure in this dangerous world.
His angular face seemed to play with the window's light, showcasing smooth skin and perfectly sculpted features. His eyebrows were straight, defined in a blue tone darker than his hair, and his lips looked soft—inviting someone to close them with a kiss, or at least that was what the young girl believed.
The girl felt genuinely spellbound by the elf's proximity. Alaster, oblivious to her infatuated looks, only stared at his food. When he leaned back in the chair to settle himself, the linen shirt tightened against his abdomen, outlining the firmness of his muscles. An electric wave shot down Jinneth’s spine, traveling straight from an intimate and suddenly damp place up to her brain.
That build is nowhere near normal, she told herself, feeling the inn's air grow thick. Gods! If he were an arrogant or insufferable elf, it would be easy to ignore him... but it's hard to find a single flaw. Her heart was completely wild, pounding against her chest.
"Th... this is your breakfast," Jinneth managed to say, her voice a bit higher than normal. "Do you need anything else?"
Alaster looked up and saw the girl's face completely red. What happened? Was it something I said? he thought, reviewing the brief interaction. No, I haven't said anything inappropriate. Well... I can't take responsibility for everything other people think or feel. After all, I'm just a man... Elf? This race stuff is confusing.
"No, I'm fine," Alaster said, pulling the tray closer to him. "Thank you."
Meanwhile, Jinneth’s mind kept racing at a thousand revolutions per minute: He's not Ary's boyfriend! He's kind and so beautiful my legs are shaking... Come on, Jinneth! Say something to him! No, wait! What if he rejects you?
The young woman looked down at her own body and noticed her apron, frayed from daily kitchen use.
Noooo!! I'm not presentable. Today is the worst day to run into him, it's technically my day off! I should have already changed! Do something or the opportunity will pass, and you'll live the rest of your life thinking, 'Oh, what would have happened if I had said something to Alaster.' NO! I won't be a regretful old lady!
Alaster was about to take a sip from his tea cup when the girl's soft voice stopped him. The timid tone she used completely clashed with the energy the elf had sensed in her when she first walked in. Alaster lowered the cup slowly and looked the young woman directly in the eyes. Jinneth held a firm, rigid gaze, as if she were about to make a life-or-death decision, keeping her face serious despite the blush on her cheeks.
"Yes? Is something wrong?" he asked, intrigued.
The girl's gaze wavered for an instant against the depth of those violet eyes. I can't do it like this! she despaired internally. I need preparation, I need to put on a better dress and do my hair better... I need to buy time! But how do I hold him here?
"Jinneth?" Alaster pressed when she remained silent.
The girl straightened up, squeezed her fists at her sides, and closed her eyes tightly, letting the words spill out all at once:
"Alaster... are you free right now, after breakfast?"
"I'm free," Alaster finally replied, sketching a wry smirk. "I don't have any plans, at least for the morning."
Jinneth immediately smiled without opening her eyes. Alaster had to internally admit that, despite how strange and erratic she was acting, the girl was remarkably cute. In his subconscious mind, he forced himself to keep his guard up; in this world, beauty often concealed hidden motives or dangerous agendas. However, he decided to play along.
"It's just that... my father went out to buy supplies and I need help with some chores," she explained, trying to sound casual. "I need to move a delivery of firewood for the back kitchen."
So much mystery and tension just to carry something heavy? Alaster thought, stifling a sigh of relief upon seeing it wasn't a major crisis. At least a mundane task didn't carry the immediate risk of revealing his lack of mana control.
"Uhh, alright. You can count on it."
"Really? For sure? Thank you!... I'm actually pretty strong, you know?" Jinneth claimed, puffing out her chest with pride and raising her arm to show off a practically non-existent biceps. Her arm looked like the slender tendril of a wild vine; a very pretty one, of course, with sun-kissed skin and a highly soft appearance.
The most comical part of the whole thing was that Jinneth said all this while keeping her eyes firmly closed, forcing a deliberately deep voice that was ridiculous considering her harmless appearance. The reason for her voluntary blindness was simple: she knew that if she opened her eyes and met the elf's intense violet gaze, her thoughts would completely derail and she would lose her train of thought.
Alaster stifled a laugh at the spectacle.
"Well... let's go get those heavy things, 'strong girl.'"
"NO!" Jinneth shouted, snapping her eyes open. Noticing her own sudden outburst and how several heads in the room turned toward them, she lowered her voice to a frantic whisper. "I mean... no. Or rather, better finish your breakfast in peace. It's not urgent, really."
Alaster, taking advantage of the fact that she had her eyes closed a moment prior, had been sticking his tongue out at her with childish maturity. When Jinneth opened her eyes to look at him, he recovered his serious and impassive face in a fraction of a second—a trick of facial control he hadn't expected to master so quickly under his new physiology.
"What? Are you making fun of me?" she protested, immediately crossing her arms and forming an adorable pout with her lips.
Alaster let out a low laugh, amused by the young woman's expressiveness.
"I was just confirming if you had your eyes closed, by the way. And why..."
"That's a secret!" Jinneth interrupted him, spinning around dynamically. "In a little bit, when you finish! I'll wait for you in the kitchen. Take your time!"
Alaster watched the girl's silhouette as she walked away. Her skirt accentuated a distinct hourglass figure that clashed with her innocent attitude. After seeing her disappear behind the bar following such a fast stream of words, the elf let out a huff that was half laugh and half bewilderment. Shaking his head, he focused back on his plate of eggs and bacon.
A couple of tables away, the usual morning bustle didn't stop Arya from catching those final words. Her sharp elven hearing immediately identified Jinneth's singsong cadence—a voice she knew quite well since she lived right there with her. Lifting her gaze and turning her head toward the window corner, she saw the young cook standing completely rigid in front of Alaster before running away.
From her angle, Arya could only see the imposing back of the blue-haired elf. A strange sting of discomfort washed over her.
Gods... the archer thought, feeling a sudden warmth rise to her cheeks. At this distance, he must have heard everything I said. Unless he just arrived...
She passed a hand over her face, attempting to dispel the growing embarrassment of being caught talking badly about him behind his back.
"Well, Arya, I have to go ahead to check the terrain with the exploration group, meow," Mirage announced, interrupting her thoughts while finishing licking her fingers thoroughly. "Don't let that specimen get away, meow!"
"Yes, yes, be careful..." Arya replied completely distractedly, dismissing her with a vague wave of her hand while her eyes remained locked on the window table.
Alaster, still trying to process Jinneth's sudden and intense proposal, noticed out of the corner of his eye Arya's slender silhouette rising from her seat and advancing toward him. Arya adjusted her leather tunic, cleared her throat slightly, and fixed her electric-blue eyes on Alaster, adopting a falsely casual expression.
"Have you been down here long?" she asked with a practical voice, though a slight hesitation betrayed her nerves.
Alaster held the teacup halfway to his lips. His mind, trained in the cold logic of urban survival, analyzed the situation in a millisecond.
She seems to think I noticed what she was saying about me. I suppose the decent and socially acceptable thing would be to lie, smile, and help her out of this awkward spot. But... I don't think that's right. She saved my life in that damn forest. I can't lie to her face.
Joseph lowered the cup, making the porcelain clink softly against the wood. He looked at the elf with absolute seriousness for a full second and, after letting out a long sigh that dispelled the tension from his own chest, spoke honestly:
"I never thanked you properly for saving me yesterday," Alaster said, sketching a light but sincere smile. "Truly, if it weren't for you, I'd be nothing more than a foul bloodstain on that forest floor. So thank you, Arya."
The archer was struck mute for a moment. The impact of his direct words caught her completely off guard.
Focus on what matters, Arya scolded herself mentally, averting her gaze toward the knots in the table.
He had heard her. It was obvious from the way he changed the subject that Alaster had witnessed her conversation with Mirage and that, logically, he hadn't liked being called a "big child" or "average."
But why on earth do I care so much about what he thinks? He's just a stranger... And right now, he represents a Guild mission. No matter how strangely material and different he is from the rest of the arrogant elves I know, he's still a stranger.
"I see," she said, taking a breath and choosing to ignore the reigning awkwardness to move past it entirely. "You don't have to thank me for anything. I only did what I had to do for one of my own."
Eager to bury the matter of the inn gossip, Arya leaned in a bit closer and added quickly, lowering her volume:
"Actually, I just wanted to tell you this since I saw you down here. The Guildmaster seems to have arrived in the city this very morning. Most likely, we can head to his office around noon."
The elf leaned in another couple of inches, ensuring the pot-bellied patrons and the thug-looking types at the bar were out of earshot.
"The matter of your attribute is top priority for the Master," she whispered with a tone of icy urgency. "So he will surely send his own private carriage to speed things up. He wants to avoid the prying eyes of noble spies in the streets at all costs."
Joseph felt his breakfast freeze in his stomach. The weight of his actual situation dropped onto his shoulders again with the force of an anvil.
Spatial magic... The Guildmaster... This could be my end if they decide to lock me up, he analyzed with a hint of bitterness. Or it could be the grand opportunity I've been waiting for to start a new life and secure my survival. It's the real start of my plans in this world.
Arya seemed to notice the heavy internal debate darkening the young elf's violet eyes. Seeing his clenched jaw, her tone softened a bit.
"You can rest easy, Alaster. The Adventurers' Guildmaster is someone completely trustworthy. The Guild is a fully independent institution; it's not affiliated with the crown or the corruption of the local nobility. He won't let them turn you into a weapon."
"In any case..." the elf concluded.
Arya looked at him and noticed that Alaster's face had grown sad in an almost imperceptible way. To the trained eye of the experienced archer, the blue-haired elf in front of her looked... hurt. Not physically, but in his pride, and a pang of genuine guilt gripped her chest.
Ugh, I'm not his mother! she complained internally, trying to shake off the remorse as she forced her rough facade back into place. It's his own fault for having such sharp hearing and eavesdropping anyway!
"I'll come get you at noon," she added, rising from the chair. "I have an official task to escort you to the main building. A friend tipped me off about the Master's movements so we'd be ready. Don't leave the inn."
Alaster only nodded, watching Arya's slender silhouette walk away at a brisk pace toward the establishment's exit.
Left alone in front of his plate of cooling eggs, Joseph leaned back in his chair, fixing his eyes on the dark-beamed ceiling.
After this noon, everything goes completely uphill or downhill... he thought realistically.
There was no middle ground. Either he gained a powerful ally or ended up chained in a basement. But either way, he couldn't do anything more. He didn't know how to activate his status magic, he didn't understand the flow of mana, and he didn't know a single soul in this vast, imposing kingdom.
His plan for now was painfully simple: wait for the carriage... or ready his boots to run at the first sign of danger.