After eating, I spent the rest of the day trying to learn more about this world. I searched for answers through books.
It turned out that this house had a library, located in one of the rooms whose door had been closed earlier. The room was much larger than my bedroom, occupying an entire side of the house, directly across from my parents' room and mine.
I entered after my father left for the forest to hunt and my mother went to the city to buy daily necessities.
Taking books from the shelves felt impossible with my small body. The shelves were tall, and my arms were short. Fortunately, they were sturdy enough to climb.
I picked several books that seemed useful based on their covers and opened them one by one, hoping to find something important.
But something was wrong.
The language was unfamiliar. I could not understand a single word. The characters looked foreign no matter how long I stared at them.
I tried to read them anyway, forcing myself to recognize patterns or meanings, but it was useless.
Usually, transmigrated characters were granted the ability to understand the written language of the world they entered. I could clearly understand my parents when they spoke and respond in the same language without effort. Yet I could not read at all.
Disappointment settled heavily in my chest.
In the end, I searched for illustrated children's books instead. Fortunately, I managed to find a few.
I studied the pictures one by one until my head began to ache, but I managed to gather some useful information.
This was truly a fantasy world. Magic existed. So did sword energy, alchemy, and many other supernatural phenomena.
There were many unique races living in this world. According to the books, only three sentient races were mentioned. Elves, dwarves, and giants.
Dangerous creatures such as goblins and orcs were also described, though they were clearly labeled as hostile beings.
Among neutral sentient races, only those three were listed. Perhaps there were others that I had not read about yet.
I picked up another book, this one with an illustration of a small elf on its cover.
According to it, the history of elves was deeply tied to the World Tree. Elves were said to be born directly from its fruit. When a fruit fell to the ground, an elf would emerge from it, usually already in an adult form.
Then why was I still a child?
Perhaps it was because I was a half elf, born from a human body. It was only speculation, but it seemed like the most reasonable explanation.
I decided not to dwell on it and continued reading.
Elves were described as a neutral race. They neither allied themselves with humans nor stood against them. Because the World Tree was the source of their existence, elves tended to isolate themselves from the outside world. However, during times of great crisis, they would step forward to assist others.
That was why they maintained a neutral stance. They were not friendly, but neither were they hostile.
After finishing the books about elves, I moved on to others.
In short, I learned that I was currently in a small kingdom founded by a swordmaster who had once defeated a dragon. In this kingdom, multiple races lived together in peace. Its abundant natural resources often made it the target of envy from neighboring kingdoms.
From everything I had learned, it seemed clear that I had not transmigrated into a novel I had read before. The setting was far too unfamiliar. Besides, there was no way I was a chosen one.
I decided to stop thinking about it.
Whether my body in the original world was asleep, missing, or already gone, I did not know. What I knew for certain was that I wanted to live happily in this world, according to my own wishes.
I returned the books to their shelves and left the library. Then I sat in the yard, quietly gazing at the small vegetable garden while waiting for my parents to return home.
As I thought about their gentle expressions and warm smiles, hope slowly began to take root in my heart.
In my previous world, I had never had parents. Perhaps here, my fate would be a little kinder.
But then, a question surfaced.
Why had I transmigrated?
Was there something wrong with my medication?
Why were my memories so unclear?
No matter how hard I tried to remember, everything remained shrouded in darkness. The only image left was of me falling asleep after taking my medicine.
Was it exhaustion from working too much?
Wait. Had I even been working?
No. Something felt wrong. Very wrong.
I knew I came from another world, yet I could not even remember my own name from there.
Did that make any sense at all?
I remembered being an orphan.
I remembered having a few friends.
I remembered going to the hospital often.
But their faces, their voices, even the reason I went there, all faded away like smoke.
My head began to ache. The more I tried to remember, the more suffocating it became. My vision blurred.
I stood up, trying to return to the house, but the pounding in my temples grew stronger, as if my skull were about to split open from the inside.
Slowly, my vision faded.
And everything sank into darkness.