"Oh… now this is something magnificent."
I looked at the absolute fool of a merchant sitting across from me. He adjusted his silk turban—an elaborate, towering coil of crimson and gold—as he carefully appraised the kid's toy I was trying to pawn off on him. He his long grey beard that reached nearly to his belt, looking every bit the wise, traditional trader.
He wasn't.
"Around 760 spina. That's a fair price for such an antique, wouldn't you agree?" I bullshitted, keeping my face entirely blank.
I had bought the thing for twenty-five spina at a muddy foreign bazaar three weeks ago. The 'priceless artifact' he was currently turning over in his hands was nothing more than a brass toy capable of blowing bubbles. It was meant to keep children from crying, not that I would ever mention that to a mark.
But through the eyes of this wealthy merchant, it was a relic from a lost civilization.
"It's an antique, that much is certain…" The merchant leaned back, the fabric of his heavy robes rustling. He peered at the brass through his monocle, his thick eyebrows knitting together. "Still, there's some scratches here and there. Seven hundred and sixty is a bit steep, no?"
He looked up at me, his ugly face creasing into a sly grin that he clearly thought was cunning. "I'll buy it for 650."
"That's a heavy discount, friend," I said, sighing dramatically to pretend I was actually sweating the haggle.
"Okay, 700. No more than that," the merchant replied, smoothing his beard.
"I'll take that," I say as I take the coins from the merchant.
I watch as he slowly made his way through the street, scanning the items on display as he rode his horse.
"Another profitable exchange," I muttered to myself, letting out a super long, weary sigh.
You would seriously think that getting reincarnated into another world would be the ultimate answer to all my prayers. Finally! I was supposed to become the overpowered, ultra-broken Reincarnated SSS+ Solo Level 1 Newbie Hunter with Max Level Cultivator in the Martial World! But noooo. Where were my overpowered cheat abilities? Where were the cool dragons?!
"Where is my cheat system?! AGGHHHHH!" I literally screamed out loud, leaning back on my saddle and slamming my hands onto my face in pure frustration.
Honestly, throwing a tantrum like this had basically become part of my daily routine at this point.
If I was actually a character in a story, instead of those awesome modern-day webnovels I used to read, I felt like I must've been dropped straight into some super depressing book by a Russian author from the 1700s.
I haven't seen a single trace of magic, no cultivation sects, no dungeons, literally none of that cool stuff. There's no power system to exploit. No special abilities. Not even a cliché King summoning a hero from another world to save the day!
Instead, all I ever see around here is poverty, dirt, sickness, and gross diseases. Basically, it's exactly the same as Earth, but like, a million times shittier because there's zero technology around.
I've been here for around 16 years now?
My name here is Andre. Just that Andre. No surname or family name to speak. In fact, I was thinking of giving myself one.
I was debating between Massena or Iguodala, but that decision could be put on hold for an indefinite amount of time. So for now, I'm sticking with just Andre.
"Hey Andre, make sure you get your goods sorted out. We'll be leaving tomorrow by daybreak tomorrow," one of the neighboring stalls added.
"Kayyy, got it," I reply unenthusiastically.
Right now, we were in Kleya City, a massive trading hub bordering two entire continents—Slebinia and Mithurna, and it is located of what would be this world's equivalent of the Silk Road. Goods from the Far and Middle East flow through here and into the kingdoms of Slebinia, which I guess is their version of Europe.
Because of that, the place is constantly packed with traders trying to rip each other off. The caravan I'm currently hitching a ride with is heading back to Slebinia tomorrow to resell all the crap we just bought here.
Sometimes, I wish I had paid more attention to school back in my previous life. If I had, maybe I would be able to actually invent some groundbreaking technology here, blow everyone's minds, and get filthy rich. But I barely passed AP Calculus, so I'm not gonna be Mr. Einstein over here. I don't know how to forge steel or make gunpowder from scratch. I'm just a dude trying to survive.
I spent the next couple of hours packing up my remaining wares—mostly cheap textiles and low-grade spices—into wooden crates. The repetitive labor gave me too much time to think, which was always a mistake. My mind kept drifting back to my high school days, to smartphone screens and air-conditioned rooms. It was a bad habit. By the time the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in dusty shades of orange and purple, my back was aching.
I walked over to the central campfire of our caravan encampment, looking for some cheap stew to fill my stomach. The smell of burning pine and roasting mutton filled the air, mixed with the ever-present stench of unwashed horses and even more unwashed men.
"Hey Andre," the man ahead of me, Gustav, called out. He was sitting on an overturned crate, sharpening a wicked-looking hunting knife against a whetstone. Gustav was a veteran merchant-guard, a burly guy with a thick mustache and a map of scars across his knuckles.
"Some of our guys are planning to take the sea route and head to the ports of Parul, on the western side of the continent," he said, not looking up from his blade.
"Really?" I asked, pausing with my wooden bowl.
"They'll be separating from us, as we're heading further inland, but I figured you might be interested."
I stared into the flickering flames of the campfire, contemplating the map of this world I had memorized over the years. Parul was on the other side of the continent, located on a jagged peninsula sticking out of the continental mainland. It was basically entirely across the map. The main caravan line was heading straight down the safe, boring center of the continent, and going to Parul would be a massive, time-consuming detour. It meant weeks on a creaking wooden ship, dealing with sea sickness and potential pirates.
"They say the girls there aren't afraid of taking it up the ass," Gustav joked, a crude grin breaking through his thick beard.
"What's that got to do with anything?" I snarked back, rolling my eyes as I took a seat on a nearby log.
"Just saying!" he replied, letting out a booming laugh that shook his shoulders. "You're young, kid. I figured you might want your first time to be a memorable one. Change of scenery does a man good."
I stirred the lukewarm stew, watching the grease swirls on the surface. Well, I guess it was true that I had never been there before. I had spent most of my sixteen years in this world hugging the safe trading routes, afraid to take risks because I didn't have a magical cheat ability to revive me if I died.
But what was I actually protecting?
I suppose taking the detour won't hurt. It's not like I'm coming back to a house or a loving family waiting for me in the inland kingdoms. I was a lone orphan who learned how to haggle to avoid starving in the gutters. At this point, I've long given up on the miraculous encounter that would turn my life upside down. No goddess was going to descend from the clouds to apologize for giving me a mundane second life.
I was indeed reincarnated into another world. It's just that it's just another shitty, ordinary, medieval world. If I wanted to see something new, I had to actually go out and look at it myself, even if it was just a dirty port city on a random peninsula.
"Guess I'll join them," I replied, taking a big gulp of the salty stew. "You only live once, after all."
Gustav paused his sharpening, looking up at me with an amused glint in his eyes. "You only live once, huh? Ha, you're a philosopher now, boy?" He slapped his thigh and went back to his knife. "Go tell the docks captain before the night is out, then. They sail when the tide changes."
The next day, the sun hadn't even cleared the horizon when I hauled my crates away from the main inland caravan. I walked down to the salty, chaotic docks of Kleya's port district. I would join the small faction of merchants taking the sea route, stepping onto a creaking, barnacle-crusted wooden ship headed for Parul. As the sails caught the wind and the coastline began to shrink into the distance, I leaned against the wooden railing, bracing myself for a very long, very un-magical voyage.