As I was about to twist the doorknob—
a sound rose up behind me. Soft… yet far too clear to be dismissed as imagination.
The sound of wood scraping against the floor.
Scrrrk—
I froze instantly. My heart began to pound without my noticing. I spun around.
A wooden chair…
The same chair I remembered clearly—
the one I had pushed neatly under the bedside table.
But now it had moved. Not by much.
Just enough to make me certain…
it was no longer in the same position.
The resolve I had only just mustered began to waver.
Something strange slowly seeped into my thoughts.
It might have been suspicion.
Or perhaps… fear of something I did not yet understand.
Only now did it occur to me that this world might not be just an "ordinary other world."
The world I had awakened in.
A world where I did not belong.
A world that might be hiding something supernatural.
Honestly… I should have realized that the moment I saw my reflection in the mirror.
What reason could there possibly be for me to be here?
I released the doorknob and slowly walked toward the wooden chair.
It was an ordinary plywood chair, lightly coated in dust.
No patterns. No markings. Nothing unusual.
And yet, it was something that had "moved on its own."
Maybe… it was just the wind?
The thought crossed my mind, and I let out a quiet laugh—
a laugh at my own flimsy excuse.
A chair that heavy—
could it really be pushed by a gentle breeze?
I glanced toward the window.
An old iron window frame, covered in rust.
It was only slightly ajar. Sunlight filtered in as nothing more than a thin line.
How could the wind be strong enough?
I turned back to the chair again.
This time, with far more caution—
as though afraid it might move closer to me.
But nothing happened.
It remained where it was.
Still. Silent.
Like any ordinary chair.
I stood there thinking for a moment.
What should I do with it?
Break it apart, just to be safe for the future?
The thought made me shake my head immediately.
No…
Even if this chair was suspicious,
I didn't believe it was the true cause.
I let out a long sigh and grasped the chair with both hands.
It had weight—
the weight of something real, not an illusion.
I walked over to the table and slowly pushed the chair back under it, returning it to its original place.
But the sound that followed—
It was much louder than I had intended.
The sound of wood striking the floor echoed throughout the room.
"I thought I set it down pretty gently…"
I muttered to myself in confusion.
And in that very moment, my eyes caught on something.
The drawer of the wooden desk…
It was slightly open.
A large amount of dust billowed into the air,
as if stirred from a long, deep slumber.
"Cough—cough!"
I coughed lightly and waved away the dust drifting toward my face.
Strange…
Had this drawer been open from the beginning?
I was certain I hadn't touched it at all.
After hesitating for a moment, I slowly reached out and pulled the drawer open.
Dust rose again, though not as much as before.
What lay inside immediately drew my attention.
A notebook.
A dark brown notebook in fairly good condition, with only a thin layer of dust—
as if it had been used not long ago.
On the cover, words were written in black ink.
"note book"
Simple. Straightforward.
I picked it up and gently brushed off the dust.
From the outside, it looked ordinary.
Not a cursed object. Not a magical grimoire like the ones I'd read about in novels.
It might have belonged to the room's previous owner.
Or else…
To the owner of this body.
I opened the notebook.
English letters were neatly written inside.
> "Sigh… it seems I'll have to stay in this place—this orphanage."
I raised an eyebrow slightly without realizing it.
Just the word sigh alone spoke volumes.
The writer of this notebook…
had not come here by choice.
At least, not willingly.
But the word that truly brought my thoughts to a halt was the one that followed—
Orphanage.
A place that takes in children from all walks of life—
children who are sent away, abandoned, or no longer wanted by anyone willing to take responsibility for their lives.
Then…
Is this place truly an orphanage?
I lowered my gaze and continued reading, my heart growing slightly heavier.
> "The laren town Orphanage is one of the places people grow most attached to,
even though it has only been established for a few decades."
Valen town…
This was the first time the name of a town had appeared so clearly.
No longer just a vague backdrop, but a real place—
with a name, a history, and people living within it.
Which meant…
Many people must have passed through this place.
Lived here.
Left behind hopes—or perhaps despair.
And that made me wonder—
If families had any other choice,
who would willingly send their child to a place like this?
I continued reading.
> "Because of those bonds, it is well-suited to be used as a refuge."
A refuge…
Just a single word, yet it made my heart lurch violently.
If an orphanage needed to be used as a refuge—
That meant this world must face threats severe enough
to force people to flee for their lives.
I unconsciously tightened my grip on the notebook.
> "Education is provided here—mathematics, language, science, and technology,
which are rare in this town, as most schools are under the control of the nobility."
A faint smile escaped my lips.
At the very least…
This world still had mathematics.
Still had science.
Still followed some familiar laws of nature.
That might mean this world wasn't too different from the one I came from.
And yet, at the same time,
the word nobility inevitably stirred a sense of discomfort.
Class. Power. Inequality.
It seemed that this world, too,
had yet to escape those things.
> "The children here are required to work alongside their studies
to prepare for the future—
security work, restaurant jobs, factory labor, or even construction."
Security work…
For children?
I frowned despite myself.
It sounded cruel.
But when I thought about it more deeply—
in a town full of uncertainty, children might not have the luxury of growing up slowly like in a peaceful world.
Perhaps…
Growing up faster than normal was simply the only way to survive.
My eyes reached the final line on the page.
> "The people here are kind.
I hope…
I'll be able to fit in with them."
Hope, huh…
That meant even the notebook's owner wasn't confident
they could truly live here.
Fear. Unease. Uncertainty—
all of it was woven into just a few short lines.
Still, at the very least,
I now knew that there might be some "good people" here.
That alone made continuing my life here seem
just a little easier.
Even though the meaning of "good people" in this world
might not be the same as in the world I left behind—
And that was something I would have to be cautious about.
Moreover, from the hurried nature of the writing,
I could tell the notebook's owner hadn't been here long.
Perhaps…
He had only just arrived and written everything down.
After finishing the page, I slowly turned to the next one.
Without knowing—
What awaited me there
would draw me closer to the truth of this world…
Or perhaps toward a danger
I hadn't even begun to notice.
That,
would depend on my future.