Charles trudged along, his damp tunic clinging to his skin.
The cold made him shiver, and every step left a faint trail of water on the stone floor.
Exhaustion weighed on his arms and legs, but he couldn't stop.
He needed to find a place to dry off or change before the dampness made him sick.
Plus, the idea of resting in soaked clothes wasn't exactly appealing.
'This is ridiculous,' Charles thought, rubbing his arms to warm up. 'How am I supposed to fight tomorrow if I can't even find a change of clothes?'
The hallway led to a wider corridor, its stone walls lit by torches casting an orange glow.
The distant roar of the arena still echoed, though fainter now as the sun began to set.
Charles wandered aimlessly, searching for any sign of a place where servants might wash or change their clothes.
But the Storm Clan's building was a maze, with twisting passages and doors that gave no hint of what lay behind them.
'I'll have to ask someone…' Charles thought, spotting a woman sweeping the floor near a corner.
She was older, her gray hair tied in a tight bun, wearing a gray tunic like his but much cleaner.
Charles cleared his throat to get her attention.
"Excuse me, do you know where I can dry my clothes or get something to change into?" he asked, gesturing to his dripping tunic.
The woman glanced at him sideways, not pausing her sweeping. Her lips curled into a sneer.
"Go bother someone else, Rian. I'm busy," she said, turning her back. "And don't leave puddles on my floor."
Charles blinked, stunned by the hostility.
'What is wrong with these people?' he thought, clenching his fists.
But he didn't have the energy to argue.
He turned and kept walking, the woman's words echoing in his head.
Further along, he spotted a young man hauling a sack of grain. His brown hair was short, and his face held a permanent scowl that didn't soften when Charles approached.
"Hey, do you know where I can change? My clothes are soaked," Charles said, trying to sound friendly.
The man didn't even glance at him.
"Get lost, Rian. I don't have time for your nonsense," he growled, hefting the sack higher and brushing past.
Charles stood there, mouth half-open.
"What the hell is everyone's problem?" he muttered, scratching his head.
Every person he tried to talk to treated him like a pest.
He kept exploring, venturing into narrower, darker hallways. The torches were sparser here, and the air smelled of dampness and old wood.
He found a slightly ajar door and peeked inside cautiously.
It was some kind of storage room, stuffed with crates and piled fabrics, but nothing looked like clean clothes—just more dirty rags like the one he'd used earlier.
"This is a waste of time," Charles grumbled, shoving the door shut.
His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn't eaten since waking up in this world.
Hunger and cold were souring his mood.
After several minutes of wandering, Charles reached a hallway ending in a large wooden door reinforced with metal. He pushed it carefully, and to his surprise, it opened without resistance.
A gust of fresh air hit him, carrying the scent of earth and leaves.
It was an exit to the outside.
Charles stepped out and closed the door behind him.
The sky was painted orange and red, the sun dipping behind a horizon lined with tall trees.
He was in a sort of back courtyard, surrounded by a dense forest.
Birds chirped in the branches, and somewhere in the distance, an unknown animal let out a sharp screech.
The ground was covered in grass and dry leaves, crunching under his feet.
'Is this… the outside world?' Charles thought, eyes wide.
For a moment, the idea of escaping flashed through his mind.
No one seemed to be watching him.
Guards, if there were any, were nowhere in sight. He could just run, lose himself in the trees, and leave this place where everyone treated him like garbage.
Maybe he'd find a village, food, or at least some clue about where he was.
But then his stomach growled again, so loud he stopped and pressed a hand to his abdomen.
"Damn it…" he muttered.
He couldn't escape without eating something first. Exhausted, hungry, and in wet clothes, he wouldn't get far.
'Better scope things out and plan an escape later,' Charles decided.
He started walking along the forest's edge, keeping the clan building to his left.
The trees were tall, their thick trunks and interwoven branches forming a canopy that barely let the fading sunlight through.
The air was crisp, and for the first time since waking up, Charles felt he could breathe without someone glaring or scolding him.
As he moved, his eyes caught movement above.
On a thick branch several meters up, a girl was lying down. She wore a black tunic with white trim, a design Charles hadn't seen before.
Her long brown hair cascaded over the side of the branch, and she seemed to be gazing at the sky, completely at ease.
Charles gritted his teeth.
'Another arena hotshot, probably…' he thought.
The white trim on her tunic likely meant she was someone important, like Lira or Kain.
Not wanting more trouble, he decided to ignore her and keep walking.
To his surprise, a clear, calm voice stopped him.
"Where are you going?"
Charles froze, glancing up.
The girl was still lying on the branch, not even turning her head to look at him.
She was so high up he couldn't figure out how she'd noticed him.
He frowned, confused, but didn't answer.
She propped herself up on one elbow, her gray eyes glinting in the sunset as she looked at him.
"What? Not gonna answer?" she asked, her voice a mix of curiosity and amusement.
Charles sighed.
Unlike Lira, Kain, or the others, she didn't sound hostile. Her tone was relaxed, almost friendly.
He decided to take a chance.
"I'm looking for a place to dry my clothes and change," he said, lifting his wet tunic slightly to show her. "This is soaked, and no one's telling me where to go."
The girl let out a soft giggle, covering her mouth with one hand.
"Wait, seriously? You don't know where the laundry room is?" Her gray eyes widened slightly, incredulous. "That's, like… the first thing every servant learns."
Charles felt his cheeks heat up but shrugged, trying to play it cool.
"I forgot, okay? I'm a bit on edge. I've got to fight in the arena tomorrow, and I'm not exactly… ready."
The girl raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued.
"Hold on, what? A servant fighting in the arena?"
She sat up fully on the branch, letting her legs dangle.
"That's not something you see every day."
Before Charles could reply, she stood with a nimble movement and leaped from the branch.
Charles's eyes widened, bracing for a hard impact, but she descended with impossible grace, as if the air itself was cushioning her.
She landed a few steps away, a smile on her face.
Up close, Charles noticed how pretty she was. Her brown hair fell in soft waves to her waist, and her gray eyes had a mischievous spark.
The black tunic with white trim hugged her slender frame, accentuating her figure.
◇◆◇
Lira marched down a wide hallway, lit by glowing lamps. Her tunic with blue trim fluttered slightly behind her, her expression deadly serious.
Before her stood a large wooden door reinforced with metal, marking the entrance to the Storm Clan leader's chamber.
Two guards bowed their heads as she approached and opened the door without a word.
Inside, the chamber was imposing. Carved stone pillars held up a high ceiling, and at the far end, a dark wooden throne dominated the space.
Seated on it was Kraus Cole, the clan leader. He was a broad, imposing man with close-cropped gray hair.
His eyes, the same intense blue as Lira's, lifted to meet hers as he held a metal goblet in one hand.
The lamplight glinted off his light armor, giving him an intimidating aura even at rest.
"Lira," Kraus said, his deep voice echoing through the chamber. He set the goblet on the throne's armrest and leaned forward slightly. "What happened? It's not like you to request a meeting so urgently."
Lira stopped before the throne and gave a brief, respectful bow.
"Father," she began, straightening. "I want to talk to you about Rian Cole."