As he approached his destination, Gray felt the urge to throw up everything he had recently eaten.
The smell was so foul and intense that it made his eyes sting. His stomach twitched in convulsions.
Only now did he truly realize the dark side of fantasy stories about isekai travelers—the complete lack of sanitation.
Freedom, bad food, the absence of human rights—all these high-minded concepts paled in comparison to the simple lack of a normal toilet. Gray tried to breathe through his mouth, but it didn't help much.
Looking around, he saw a primitive construction: just a hole in the ground, fenced off with flimsy boards to create an illusion of privacy. There was no toilet paper, of course. Instead, there was a pile of leaves that didn't look very hygienic.
"I hope they haven't been used yet," Gray thought, a chill running down his spine.
He remembered all the diseases that could spread in such unsanitary conditions. Dysentery, cholera, hepatitis. It felt to Gray as if tiny bacteria were staring at him with predatory eyes, as if they couldn't wait to plant a virus in his body.
Unfortunately, he couldn't ignore basic physiological needs.
Clenching his teeth in an attempt to hold back a surge of vomit, Gray forced himself to use the primitive facility. Every moment felt like unbearable torture.
When he stepped out, he felt the acute absence of any way to wash his hands. Water was a precious resource, and it clearly wasn't wasted on such "luxuries." Gray wiped his hands on the grass, but the feeling of filth wouldn't leave him.
He suddenly thought of other aspects of hygiene he had previously taken for granted. A toothbrush and toothpaste, a shower, clean underwear—all of it had now turned into an unattainable luxury.
Gray realized that he would have to face not only the dangers of this world, but also constant discomfort and health risks. It hit him hard that survival here would require more than just strength and intelligence; it would take the ability to adapt to conditions for which his past experience could never have prepared him.
As he made his way back to his new "comrades," Gray desperately tried to recall the years spent studying:
"Damn it, damn it. No. I won't settle for a life like this, not for a second. No matter what, I need to at least get some soap. What do you need to make it? I remember... I remember them telling us about this in school!"
"You need alkali and fat. Fat isn't a problem; I can render lard or press oil from nuts. I'll get the alkali from ash. Just need to wash and dry the campfire ash, and that's it. Then boil the water again, mix the fat and alkali, and evaporate the water. It'll make soap. For a start, it should be enough..."
As Gray walked back, his thoughts were occupied with plans to improve his situation. He was so deeply immersed in reflections on soap production that he didn't notice how five older boys had surrounded him.
"Hey, newbie!" the group leader called out to him.
He was a stocky boy of twelve or maybe thirteen, a full head taller than Gray. Broad shoulders and muscular arms suggested that nature had been generous to him. A square jaw and high cheekbones gave him a stern look unusual for his age, especially compared to Gray, who was scrawny.
"Did you bring us the berries?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest in an attempt to show off his superiority.
Gray tensed, quickly assessing the situation. "What berries?" he asked, trying not to betray his nerves.
The leader smirked. "Don't play dumb. You're living in Lily and Cheryl's cell. No surprise they'd put a pretty boy like you with our beauties. Don't think I don't know that besides porridge and bread, they give you berries. You have to share with us, your brothers."
"Sorry, but I didn't know about that. Maybe next time," Gray replied, feeling the tension rise.
"Ignorance is no excuse," the leader growled, taking a step forward. "Either you hand over the berries, or we take them ourselves."
Finally, Gray realized that the boys were here not so much for the berries, but out of jealousy over his situation. What irony, considering he hated it to his very core. The boy's brain worked at maximum speed.
He recalled words he had heard from a famous national leader in his past life: "If a fight is inevitable, you must strike first."
He looked around, surveying the bullies. Five kids, each a head taller than him.
He was in deep shit.
Gray knew he stood no chance in a fair fight against even a single brute, and there were five of them. But he also knew he couldn't show weakness. In this world, that could cost him his life.
Without giving himself time to doubt, he lunged forward. How could the big guy have anticipated an unexpected attack when Gray hadn't even seen it coming himself?
He wasn't aiming for the face or the stomach, but the knee—the most vulnerable point he could reach.
His sudden assault caught the boys off guard. Gray's fist slammed into the leader's knee with unexpected force.
The boy cried out in pain and shock, losing his balance.
Gray didn't wait for a reaction. He knew he had seconds before the others snapped out of it. There was nowhere to run; he had to demonstrate his strength and dominance.
He threw himself furiously at the broad-shouldered boy and began to rain down frantic blows on his torso.
However, the reaction of the others was the opposite of what he had expected. They didn't scatter in fear; instead, they lunged at him, grabbing his shoulders and arms and dragging him away from their leader.
"So, you've got some spine. I like that. Но when you came at me, you should've thought about the consequences," the broad-shouldered boy hissed, standing up as if nothing had happened.
Gray tried to break free from the grip, but before a second had passed, he was already pinned firmly to the ground as the beating began. The blows didn't feel the least bit merciful.
A kick to the thigh. A fist under the ribs. Another fist to the shoulder.
Gray felt his entire body under assault. It was exactly like that ill-fated day on the outskirts of Los Angeles when he had been jumped in an alleyway near a bar.
"Am I going to die again? Is this some kind of karma?" the treacherous thought flashed through his head.
He wanted to get angry, to fly into a rage and launch a mad counterattack, but all he felt was helplessness. He gave up resisting and curled into a ball, taking the ruthless blows.
Finally, the boys grew tired of tormenting him.
"From this day on, you're obligated to bring us a handful of berries every single day. And don't you dare get close to Cheryl or Lily. You aren't worthy of such beauties!" the leader said harshly, still feeling a flicker of shame for being caught off guard.
Gray didn't answer. He didn't even hear the ultimatum; everything felt as if it were shrouded in fog.
"Do you understand me?!" he roared, receiving no response. "Oh, look at this! What's this bracelet? It's clearly worth something. I'll take it as collateral," the square-faced boy continued to pester, reaching out to rip the bracelet from his defeated opponent's wrist.
Suddenly, something clicked in Gray's head.
His pupils narrowed like a predator's, and his vision snapped back into focus. Gray felt an unprecedented fury wash over him like an unstoppable tide.
And then, it seemed he lost control of "his" body...
"DON'T YOU DARE!" he heard a scream that sounded more like a beast's roar than a human cry. Even his childish voice took on entirely different undertones. The youthfulness in his tone remained distinct, yet it sounded more primal, more in tune with this world.
Gray could no longer control the situation. His body wouldn't obey, and he could only watch the events unfold from a first-person perspective. The scene revealed before him left him in a state of shock...
"He" lunged at the broad-shouldered boy with even greater ferocity.
A leap.
An elbow strike to the jaw.
A blow to the solar plexus that sent the leader doubling over, gasping frantically for air.
But it didn't end there.
Turning to the next opponent, "he" snapped a heel out toward the bully's shin. As the boy lost his balance, "he" swept his supporting leg, slamming him to the ground.
Next came a right hook to the third boy's face. A left hook to the gut.
Two left.
A knee to the groin. An elbow to the back.
A pivot. A headbutt to the solar plexus.
The movements resembled a dance more than a fight. These actions were completely different from his own clumsy attempts at defense. They were sharp and fluid. Gray had no idea "he" could fight like this. Something was seriously wrong.
He had never known how to fight. Sure, he had taken karate classes in his past life, but he'd never achieved any real success.
Where did these skills come from?
"No. No. No. This isn't me," he realized. "These are the skills of the body's previous owner. But how is that possible? Haven't I already taken it over? What the hell is going on here?! I can't control anything. Where could a little boy from the desert have learned all these moves? These can't be just reflexes. He's clearly had training."
"Wait. Wait. Wait. That doesn't matter. If he's still controlling the body, then what am I even doing here? Was I supposed to wake him up before disappearing forever?"
Suddenly, when there was no one left standing around him, "he" collapsed onto his knees, exhausted.
Gray watched as "he" stroked the beads on the bracelet with trembling hands and felt his own throat tighten.
An insane sadness, longing, and disappointment washed over him in waves.
"Mama, Mommy, no!" Gray heard his own voice, but he wasn't the one speaking the words. "No, no! It can't be true. Cassia, Grace... little sister... Where are you?!"
Hot tears streamed down his cheeks. Never in his life had Gray experienced such deep despair and sharp pain in his chest.
He realized that somehow, he was sharing the body and emotions of the previous owner, and this discovery was as terrifying as it was mysterious.
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