As Aiden approached the wooden gate, two guards leaned lazily against the posts. One of them straightened the moment he saw Aiden’s hooded figure walking toward them. His hand hovered near the spear at his side.
"Hey," the guard barked, narrowing his eyes. "Why are you acting so secretive? Take off your robe if you want to proceed."
Aiden froze for a heartbeat. He lowered his head slightly, making sure the hood stayed in place. "I... can’t," he said quietly. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a single silver coin. It glinted faintly in his palm as he held it out. "Please. I’m dealing with... personal circumstances. I would rather not remove the robe. I hope this will be enough to let me pass."
The guard’s expression shifted instantly. His eyes practically sparkled. A silver coin, more than he earned in an entire month, sat right in front of him. He snatched it with surprising speed, closing his fist around it like a starving dog grabbing a bone.
He cleared his throat, glancing around to make sure no one else had seen.
"All right," he muttered, stepping aside. "Go on. And remember..." He gave Aiden a firm look. "I never saw you."
Aiden nodded once, then slipped through the gate without another word.
Inside the town, Aiden slowed his steps, taking everything in. The place was small and worn, the kind of place most people would call poor. Dirt roads cut between crooked wooden houses, and patched roofs leaned at odd angles as if tired from holding themselves up for too many years.
But to Aiden, someone who came from a world of steel buildings, neon lights, and towering holograms, there was something strangely charming about it.
Smoke drifted lazily from chimneys. Children ran barefoot through the streets, chasing each other with sticks. Merchants sat behind makeshift stalls, shouting half-heartedly about vegetables, dried meat, and cheap trinkets. The scent of dust, earth, and simmering stew blended together in the air.
Aiden touched the inside pocket of his robe. Only one silver coin remained.
"That’ll get me a room and food for a day," he muttered to himself. "After that... nothing."
He recalled the fragments of memory belonging to this body.
"One hundred bronze makes one silver... and one hundred silver makes one gold," he whispered. "So I’m basically broke."
He sighed but kept walking. What surprised him was how little attention he drew.
Every person wore something strange, mismatched armor pieces, patched robes, oversized cloaks, animal pelts thrown lazily over the shoulders.
Aiden headed straight for the nearest inn he could find. The sign hanging above the door was so weathered he could barely read it, and the wood looked like it had survived more years than it should have. When he pushed the creaky door open, a dull bell jingled half-heartedly.
Inside, the place smelled faintly of old ale and damp wood. A few tables sat unevenly on the floor, and the counter looked like it had been wiped with the same rag for decades. Behind it stood the innkeeper, a stout, grey-haired man with thick eyebrows and a permanent scowl.
Without even pretending to be friendly, the owner asked, "What do you want?"
Aiden blinked, a little taken aback.
’Wow... even the innkeeper’s this unfriendly?’ he thought.
Still, he didn’t really care about the man’s attitude. He was tired, hungry, and he needed a place to rest.
Aiden placed a silver coin on the counter.
"I want a room for two nights."
The owner’s eyes flicked to the coin, then back up at him. The scowl didn’t disappear, but his tone became slightly less sharp.
"That’ll be sixty bronze coins," the owner said.
Aiden nodded, accepting the small pouch of change the man handed over. The inn might be old and unwelcoming, but it was shelter, and for now, that was good enough.
Aiden slid the pouch of coins into his pocket, then looked back at the innkeeper.
"Do you have anything I can eat?"
The owner let out a short grunt, reached under the counter, and slapped a wooden menu board in front of him. It was stained, chipped, and looked like it hadn’t been updated in years.
Aiden glanced at the prices and sighed inwardly.
No wonder this place barely has any customers... even the menu looks like it’s trying to leave.
He counted his remaining coins, forty bronze. Not much. He picked something simple, a ten-bronze meal that looked like it wouldn’t poison him.
"I’ll take this," Aiden said, tapping the board.
The owner nodded and shuffled toward the kitchen without a word.
Aiden sat on a stool at the counter, resting his elbow on the worn surface. While waiting for the food, he tried striking up a conversation.
"Sir, I’m new here. Do you know how I can get a job in this town?"
The owner didn’t stop chopping whatever was on the board behind the counter.
"I don’t know," he replied bluntly. "This town’s already on its last legs. War between the clans... everything’s gone bad. People leaving, businesses dying. This whole region’s barely hanging on."
Aiden leaned back a little, absorbing that.
So the town wasn’t just poor—it was collapsing.
Not the best place to start a new life... but for now, it was the only place he had.
The owner suddenly spoke again, his voice rough but a little more interested than before.
"You... practice martial arts?"
Aiden paused. Technically, the body he now occupied did have memories of martial arts. But Aiden himself? He couldn’t execute those moves for some reason. Still... he did have a skeleton that knew martial arts. That had to count for something.
"I guess you could say I know a little," Aiden replied carefully.