Chapter 3

    The Orphanage Once Again

    The frail, malnourished body of the little boy—who should have died back in that pile of garbage—kept him bedridden in a semi-conscious state for four days.

    The strength that returned to him came from bowls of thin soup filled with overcooked vegetables and not a single trace of meat, mixed with soaked, crumbling pieces of hard bread. Gradually, his condition improved. By the fifth morning, his consciousness fully returned, and he found that he could move his arms and legs with a bit more strength.

    Having food to eat was better than having nothing at all.

    His soul, seasoned by what felt like a long life in another world, was still amazed at this new life. The coarse fabric of his clothes felt rough and uncomfortable, and the bed he lay on was hard and barely warm. His small hand reached toward the nearby fireplace, where glowing embers provided a faint warmth. As the heat spread through his palm, his other senses began to awaken. The soreness from malnutrition and the weakness he had felt when he first woke in the trash heap had lessened considerably.

    "Fuu..." He exhaled after taking a deep breath of the crisp morning air. Although no white vapor escaped his mouth as he had expected, he knew it must be a cold season.

    Not long after, the wooden door at the corner of the room creaked open. Two teenagers—a boy and a girl—stepped in, carrying bowls of soup and a water bucket as usual. When they saw the previously unconscious boy sitting up and warming his hands by the fireplace, their eyes widened in surprise, and they quickly shouted for the Sister.

    Moments later, a figure in a black habit, much like the nuns he remembered from his previous life, hurried into the room. She carried a tray with warm soup and spoke in a familiar language that his wandering soul recognized immediately. It was fortunate that his years of practicing English allowed him to understand and respond without difficulty.

    "How are you? Does your body still hurt?" The nun offered him a warm bowl of soup. The boy accepted it with both hands. He understood her words, but it took him a moment to organize his thoughts.

    "Ah... cough, cough, cough." His throat was still parched, making it difficult to speak. His response came as a weak breath, barely audible.

    The bland soup was devoured eagerly. The boy finished the meal quickly, his stomach swelling slightly from the warmth of the food. He gave a small bow of gratitude before handing back the wooden bowl. The teenage boy beside him placed a bucket of clean water and a rough cloth beside his bed—far too grimy for his liking.

    Luckily, he didn’t show any sign of displeasure. His mind, now clearer, began assessing the situation, noting how unfamiliar and peculiar it all was.

    "If you feel strong enough to walk, you can help with work outside. Your body will recover faster that way." The nun patted his head gently. Then came the important question. "What is your name? Where are you from? No one in the village recognizes you."

    "My name...my name? I don’t know," he shook his head slightly. "It would be an honor if you could give me one, Sister."

    "Hmm? You want me to name you…? A name is no small matter, little one."

    But the determined gaze of the boy—far too calm for his age—softened Sister Anne’s resolve. Even so, she couldn’t give him a name without careful thought. She promised to find a suitable name later. Disappointed, the boy’s shoulders slumped at having to wait.

    "For now, let’s call you Kit… I’ll search the books for a better name later." Her rough hand gently patted his golden-brown hair once more before reminding him to stretch his limbs to help his recovery. Then she left the room to let him clean himself up.

    The small fireplace couldn’t warm the bucket of water that had been sitting nearby for some time. The rough cloth, which felt scratchy against his skin, wasn’t very effective at scrubbing away dirt. Little Kit dipped it into the clear water, scrubbing it several times before laying it on the stove’s lid, which was warmer than the rest of the hearth. Before long, thin steam rose from the cloth, signaling that it was heating up. The softened, warm fabric made cleaning himself a bit more comfortable.

    After cleaning himself up, Kit finally had time to gather his thoughts. His new eyes carefully scanned the objects around him.

    The walls seemed to be made of old stone or hardened earth. The wooden bed was too worn to guess its age, and the mattress beneath him was nothing more than a rough fabric stuffed with dry straw. His clothes were hopelessly outdated, and the air in the room was stale, with only a small ventilation hole at the corner offering some relief.

    (Where... exactly am I?) Though he desperately wanted to assess his situation, there was little information to work with. His eyes caught sight of an old table in a dark corner, on which lay a thick book.

    (A Bible? ... Hmm, no, that’s not it.) The symbol on its cover was a beautifully etched design of two leaves encircling a sun. The text inside was in English, though somewhat archaic, with a medieval touch. Despite its unfamiliar style, he managed to read bits of it. For the next two hours, the soul of the old man found himself submerged in a sea of new knowledge.

    Unfortunately, the book turned out to be quite useless… It was filled with outdated, ineffective methods of healing.

    (What is this nonsense... drying herbs under a twin moon for three nights before boiling them? Gathering plants under the light of a full twin moon? …) There were many things he didn't understand. The illustrations were crude and difficult to distinguish from real creatures.

    One particular term appeared repeatedly—twin moon… Did this world have two moons? If that were true, this couldn’t possibly be the world he once knew. Still, trusting the book alone wouldn’t suffice. He needed to find a chance to see for himself.

    With that decision made, the boy got up and clumsily returned the large book to its place. He stretched his frail, malnourished limbs to get his body moving again before finally opening the door.

    The first thing he noticed was the smell… Kluay Kai’s soul felt as if someone had defecated in the hallway without bothering to clean it up. He gagged momentarily, taking quick, shallow breaths to adjust. Barefoot, he stepped onto the cold, uneven stone floor, following the sound of voices until he reached his destination.

    His arrival in the main hall, where many orphans gathered, quickly caught everyone’s attention. Before long, the eldest among them—a teenage boy and girl—walked up to him. Their kind, brotherly gaze filled him with warmth and familiarity.

    It reminded him of the orphanage he had lived in long ago, where everyone took care of one another.

    "Here, take this… We made this cane together so you can move around more easily," the boy said in a deep voice, handing Kit a slightly warped but sturdy-looking wooden cane. The older boy then introduced himself.

    "I’m James, and she’s Anna… What about you? What’s your name?" The young boy asked excitedly.

    "I... I’m not sure. Sister said I should call myself Kit for now… My real name will come later."

    "We understand… Lately, a lot of kids from big families have been abandoned. You’re lucky someone found you, and the church took you in."

    "Thank you for taking care of me these past few days," Kit said, bowing to them once again before testing his new cane. Slowly, he began to move more confidently.

    In the following days, Kit ventured into the courtyard, where the grass was starting to wither. The changing colors of the leaves created a breathtaking scene unlike anything he had ever experienced in his old life. At dusk, he caught a glimpse of two moons faintly glowing in the sky, confirming without a doubt that this was not his old world.

    What was he supposed to do next? The goddess hadn’t given him any specific mission. He had crossed into another world, but without the kind of special powers he had imagined. This new world seemed backward and decaying. The food, clothing, and buildings around him all indicated an underdeveloped medieval society, yet the language they spoke was eerily similar to the one from his old world.

    Unfortunately, the old Kluay Khai hadn’t studied much history. Other than the fantasy adventure novels he loved, his only real knowledge came from cookbooks, which he used to practice cooking alone, or books on clean eating and herbal remedies. If you added the nature documentaries he watched in his final days, he could probably manage gardening to some extent.

    "This is really troubling." He raked his fingers through the soil. The earth beneath him was quite fertile, but he hardly knew anything about the crops that could grow in this kind of terrain. "I should’ve watched more documentaries before I died. The key to survival for these people is food… How am I going to help with that…?"

    The soup the children and the two nuns drank with their bread grew thinner each day. Meat hadn’t touched the pot for a while—if it ever did. Ah… In truth, it was mostly animal bones. The vegetables, boiled until soft, were gobbled up greedily with bread as hard as stone, leaving not a drop behind every single day.

    "Anne... I don’t think we’ll be able to keep making bread for the kids. These grains won’t last through the winter…" The voice leaking through the gap in the door made Kit pause and listen closely, despite knowing it was rude.

    "Jason just brought two fat wild rabbits… We still have plenty of salt. I was thinking of making some dried meat to add to everyone’s soup," said Sister Lisa, her voice laced with joy. But her happiness didn’t last long. The state of the storage room was grim—supplies were dwindling fast.

    "I believe we’ll make it through this test. The gods won’t abandon those who try their best." The two of them knelt in prayer together in silence. This gave Kit the perfect opportunity to observe the contents of the room, lit by flickering candlelight and the fading sunlight of the day.

    Carrots... onions... and several sacks that must have been the grains the nuns mentioned… There was quite a bit left. They also had a large supply of salt, just as they said.

    As Kit’s body continued to regain strength, his thoughts churned while he made his way back to the shared dormitory.

    The forest behind the village... He wondered if there’s anything edible for him to dig up there.