Chapter 1: Dumped into Another World
Ian walked up the stairs of the apartment complex. A tiring day at college, followed by an even more exhausting part-time job, had left him drained.
He saw a text from his girlfriend, Monika. It read:
"We need to talk, now!"
He looked up, seeing the door to her apartment building.
"God, what a day," Ian muttered as he opened the door to his apartment.
There she stood—the girl he loved.
"Hey, how's it going?" he said softly.
"What do you mean, how it's going? Are you serious?!" Monika's voice cut through the air, sharp with disgust and anger.
Ian, confused, began, "Are you o—" but she didn't let him finish.
"Don't even try! I know what you've been doing. I should've noticed it sooner!" Her words hit him like a slap.
He hadn't even taken off his jacket or shoes yet.
"Are you cheating on me?" Monika's question hung in the air, heavy and accusing.
"What? Absolutely not!" Ian replied, utterly shocked.
"LIAR!" Monika's voice cracked, echoing through the apartment. "You're lying!"
Ian froze, too stunned to speak.
"All these late nights are because of some girl you're seeing behind my back!" Monika shouted.
Ian looked down, knowing she was wrong, but being yelled at wasn't suiting his tired self right now.
He gazed over the floor; his eyes darted to a pair of shoes he didn't recognize next to Monika's.
Before he could say anything, Monika spoke again.
"Out! Go! I never ever want to see you again!" Monika pushed him toward the door and slammed it shut.
Two years down the drain. For it to end with a false accusation… Ian's chest tightened as disbelief and numbness washed over him.
And those shoes… whose were they? Ian wondered. Was she the one… cheating on him?
He stood there, unable to comprehend what had just happened, the city lights outside blurring around him.
He dragged himself home with heavy steps. Once he got there, he didn't leave his room.
Schoolwork piled up, missed calls from parents came every day—until they stopped calling entirely.
All of this… just because he got dumped?
It had been two months now, time passing by watching anime and ordering takeaway all day but barely eating.
Eventually, there was a knock at the door.
He pulled himself together and answered.
It was the landlord.
"I want you out in three days, or there will be consequences. Understood?" he said before turning and disappearing down the stairs.
Ian couldn't even react in time before he left.
Three days passed. Then four. Then five.
On the fifth day, another knock echoed.
Ian didn't dare answer but finally gave in when they wouldn't stop.
Three men stood before him, each holding a metal baseball bat.
Behind them, the landlord loomed.
"I warned you, Briar."
The men stepped in, and Ian was hit over the head, knocking him unconscious in an instant.
He woke up on the sidewalk a street or two away.
"Dammit… I'm such a wimp…" Ian muttered.
He felt pathetic.
He had let Monika ruin his life just because of a breakup.
Thoughts spun helplessly, memories of laughter, late-night study sessions, and small arguments—all now meaningless.
Yet beneath it all, there was anger.
Ian stood up, the cold night air biting at his skin.
He walked without direction, his mind spinning.
A group of college students laughed loudly on the sidewalk.
He walked past them, ignoring their glances.
At a convenience store, he paused briefly, staring blankly at the rows of snacks before shaking his head and deciding to go inside.
He pushed at the door. It didn't move.
Until he saw a note that said, "Pull."
He tried pulling; the door opened.
He cursed to himself as he stepped in.
The lights inside flickered eerily, as if the world knew he had a bad day—or perhaps a sad reality.
Ian kept staring at the shelves, but all he saw was the space where she used to be.
He felt betrayed, as if she had killed a part of him.
He looked around, noticing only an older lady by the fruit section and a man around his forties in the dairy section.
Of course, it would be almost empty. It was around nine o'clock after all.
Ian didn't even know why he walked inside;
he didn't need anything.
Anything but one thing.
Ian needed clarity.
All he wanted was to see the world through the eyes he once had.
He walked awkwardly to the counter.
The cashier sent a cold glare his way, as if to tell him he was wasting her time since he came up empty-handed.
He walked out; a street musician's violin cut through the night air. The melody was sad, almost familiar.
Ian stopped, listening, and for a moment, memories of happier days crept in.
But they were shoved aside by the sting of Monika's accusations.
"Seriously? What's the timing?" he muttered to himself.
He nearly walked straight into a streetlight pole, fumbling to catch his balance, then continued down a darker alley to avoid the crowd.
Trash rustled behind him, a stray cat darted out hissing. Ian barely registered it, lost in thought.
Turning a corner, he saw a brightly lit intersection. Cars zoomed past.
One horn blared right as a truck came into view. Time seemed to stretch.
He froze, realizing too late where he was standing.
"Shit…"
Pain. Sharp. Blinding. All-consuming.
Ian could feel his bones crushing and dislocating from the sudden force… until he couldn't feel anything at all.
The story of Ian Briar was over.
1.1
Ian rubbed his eyes as the sudden light dispersed, waiting for his vision to adjust.
When he could see clearly, he realized he was standing inside a clothing store.
"Hey, can I help you with something?" a young woman asked.
Her outfit wasn't modern—it looked classical, almost from another time.
"Uh… no, I'm fine, miss…" he murmured quietly.
The woman, seemingly oblivious, repeated her question.
"Sir? Are you there?"
This time, Ian replied more firmly. "Yes, yes, I'm here. I'm perfectly fine."
She nodded and left him to the section where he was standing.
Blinking a few times, Ian suddenly noticed an overwhelming display of women's underwear in front of him.
Heat rushed to his face. Was he… in the panties section?
"No wonder she asked if I was okay…" he muttered, covering his face.
A voice from nearby called him a creep, making his embarrassment skyrocket.
Panicking, he grabbed a pair of panties and dashed toward the counter.
He placed them on the desk.
"Is that all?" an older woman asked—the cashier—barely glancing at him.
"Y-yeah… that's all," Ian stammered, still burning red.
The woman studied the panties in silence for a moment.
"That'll be three bronze… sir," she said, trying to suppress a smile.
Ian placed a single coin on the counter—one coin from Earth.
The woman took it without hesitation, assuming it was a gold coin.
Ian quickly grabbed his purchase and left, still red-faced.
Stepping outside, Ian squinted against the sunlight. He expected the streets to look like any ordinary city, but the cobblestones were uneven and the air smelled faintly of horses, bread, and smoke.
The square before him buzzed with life.
Merchants called out from wooden stalls draped with colorful fabrics, fruits, and trinkets, while townsfolk in tunics, gowns, and cloaks hurried past.
A fountain gurgled at the center, water sparkling in the sun as children darted around its edge.
Wooden carriages rattled over the stones, drawn by horses whose hooves clopped in rhythm with the marketplace.
Ian blinked, still clutching his… purchase. "Hm… streets sure smell different around here…" he muttered.
A pang hit him in the chest. Even amidst this strange new world, his thoughts drifted to Monika for a second.
The way she'd said goodbye, the cold finality in her eyes. The shoes in the hall…
Ian shoved the thought down, but it lingered, making the bustle of the square feel oddly distant.
He wandered between stalls, barely registering the colorful fabrics or alien-looking fruits.
Merchants waved, trying to catch his attention, but Ian only nodded absently.
He barely noticed the clang of a blacksmith hammering at an anvil or the scent of freshly baked bread.
He was consumed by a mix of awkwardness and lingering heartbreak.
A boy ran past, chasing a chicken, and the bird squawked loudly.
Ian stumbled back into a cart stacked with barrels, earning a sharp glare from the driver.
"Sorry! Sorry!" he muttered, cheeks burning, both from embarrassment and lingering emotion.
"It's alright, son, just be careful." The merchant responded before riding off.
A minstrel strummed a lute by the fountain. Ian paused, listening.
For a moment, he felt almost human again, the tune tugging faintly at something inside him.
A reminder that life still moved on, even when heartbreak hit hard.
He dropped a single coin from his pocket into the minstrel's hat without thinking; the musician didn't even blink, counting it as a donation.
Ian moved on, still wandering aimlessly, trying to distract himself.
He stared at the wooden wheels of carriages, the pottery stacked neatly at a stall, the shiny metal pots—anything to keep his mind off the gnawing emptiness left by her.
"Maybe… maybe I should just find a quiet spot and think," he muttered, half to himself.
From across the square, a carriage driver shouted something incomprehensible. Horses snorted.
A dog barked. Ian shook his head. "Well… definitely not like home. But… not all bad, I guess."
He didn't notice the townsfolk staring curiously at him, or the way the world seemed slightly… fantastical.
All he knew was that he was here, alone, awkward, red-faced, holding panties, and oddly relieved that no one here knew who he was—or who he had just lost.
1.2
Ian found a more secluded area of the city.
Every now and then, he pinched his arm; each time it hurt, confirming it wasn't a dream.
He sat down on an old bench someone had left out, looking around once again.
He caught sight of a woman, but his gaze ended on the panties he had stress-bought.
"Dammit, why do I still have this?" he muttered, though he hesitated to throw them away.
Eventually, he tossed them aside.
"I'm such an alien. I have different clothes; I'm wearing jeans and a sweater, after all…" he said to himself.
In an instant, Ian felt a jolt of energy, like being tased but without paralysis.
"Come on, Ian!" He jolted to his feet, slapping his cheeks hard, leaving red marks.
"This is no time to be useless!" Nearby civilians turned away, embarrassed by him.
His enthusiasm slowed as he saw a masked person following a woman with quick steps through the alley.
The mask was black, with no noticeable features.
Ian's brows furrowed as he saw a sharp, shining object in the masked person's pocket.
"Hey!" he shouted.
"The hell are you doing?"
The masked person didn't respond but slowed, turning toward Ian.
He clearly hadn't expected interference.
"Are you deaf? What do you think you're doing, following girls with knives and stuff?" Ian shouted again.
The man chuckled. "You have a sharp eye, boy." His voice was dark; probably a man, judging by his physique.
"Hey, you aren't setting a good example for me, since I'm also a guy, you know."
The masked man laughed again. Looking ahead, he still saw the woman he was chasing. She appeared as shocked as he probably was under the mask.
"And what will you do if I follow this fine lady?" the man said. The woman looked a little disgusted.
Ian stepped forward, punching the man straight in the face. He stumbled back a little.
"Damn… that was a good hit," Ian said. "It almost hurt."
The masked man then pulled out his knife, slicing the air for show. He was definitely smirking under the mask.
Ian went quiet, saying nothing. Nor did he move.
"Not so tough now, are ya?" the masked man said.
He struck, but Ian dodged by just a hair.
He had bitten off more than he could chew.
"Shit…" he muttered, realizing his mistake.
But he knew he couldn't just watch. He had to do something—at least to give the woman time to get away, or until help arrived.
Ian punched again, this time aiming at the alley wall.
"You missed, so you know," the masked man said mockingly as he stepped closer.
He fell to the ground.
Ian had swept him off the floor, giving himself a chance.
"Those two years of jiujitsu really paid off!" He thought.
He rushed over to the panties he had thrown away, tackling the masked man as he tried to get up.
He dropped his knife in the fall, giving Ian an opening.
"What the..." the man said in shock, not expecting the tables to turn so quickly.
Ian grabbed the knife nearby. While holding the man down, he struck him in the temple with the knife's handle.
Though the knife lacked a guard, it cut the palm of his left hand.
Ian didn't stop until the man stopped resisting, unconscious, and Ian's palm was bleeding.
"Damn… that hurts…" Ian held his left wrist, flexing his hand, blood leaking all over.
He couldn't afford to act weak after a desperate victory.
The woman who had been watching walked forward.
"Thank you, thank you so much… I was scared he'd get my ki—"
She was cut off.
"No need to thank me. I couldn't just watch," Ian said, hiding his left hand behind his back.
"Let me help at least. I'm a nurse." She reached out, signaling him to do the same.
As Ian reached for her hand, he got a proper look at the woman.
She had blue eyes and long brown hair—just like him, except for the long hair, of course.
A friendly expression confirmed her genuine gratitude.
He struggled to keep his eyes open; the blood loss was deep, and he had overexerted himself.
"I'll fix it up for you… what's your nam— hey? Are you with me?" the woman said. Most words sounded like gibberish to Ian.
He didn't resist and fell asleep.