She knows

Time is a strange thing here. Days blur together in a cycle of work, meals, and quiet observations.

The potato test plot is set up, tucked away on the outskirts of the village, where curious eyes won’t disturb it. I help with planting, learning more about how they farm, the way they work the land, how they rotate their crops, and how they rely on observation rather than rigid tradition.

At the same time, I keep working with Io, running numbers, improving my grasp of the language, and writing like a caveman in my awkward attempts to copy their script. I’m getting better, but it’s frustratingly slow.

The villagers still don’t trust me. Some tolerate my presence. Some avoid me entirely. A few are warming up, mostly the ones who deal with me daily. But I’m still an outsider—a strange man with strange ideas, tagging along behind Io like a lost dog.

I’d like to think that Io trusts me. Maybe she does, in her own way. But she also keeps me busy. Too busy to think about things I’d rather not dwell on.

It’s almost comforting—this constant work, the endless tasks, the numbers and ledgers. As long as I’m focused on grain stock and trade deals, I don’t have to ask myself harder questions.

But Io? She asks them anyway.

At first, it was easy to brush off—little things, passing remarks about my odd turns of phrase or my unfamiliarity with common knowledge. But lately, she’s been watching me closer, listening more carefully when I speak.

It’s only a matter of time.

I know that.

The real question is… what happens when she figures it out?

###

I’ve been patient.
More patient than I should be.

I’ve watched him stumble his way through life here, listened carefully, asked the right questions, tested his knowledge without him realizing it. And now I have enough.

Enough slips.
Enough inconsistencies.
Enough proof that Nate is not who he claims to be.

He learns too quickly. Faster than anyone should.
He’s surprised by things that every child here knows.
His grasp of numbers, of trade, of measurement—it’s not foreign, it’s misaligned, like he’s working from a different set of rules entirely.

And then there’s the way he reacts to the smallest things. The measuring rod. The number system. The damn calendar. He flinches just slightly before catching himself.

He thinks he’s being careful. He’s not.

And now I’m going to make him talk.

Across from me, Nate sits hunched over the ledger, scribbling away with that strange, focused energy of his. He’s gotten comfortable. Too comfortable.

He doesn’t see it coming.

I watch him for a moment longer, then speak.

“Nate.”

My voice is even, firm.

He barely looks up. “Yeah?”

“Where are you really from?”

His hand stops mid-writing.

For a split second, his face is blank. Then his brow furrows, and he blinks like he didn’t hear me. Like he needs to buy time.

“What?”

I fold my arms. “No lies. No excuses. No playing dumb. I’ve let you dodge this question for days, but I know. You’re not from here. Not from any place I’ve ever heard of. And if you try to talk your way around it again, I’ll assume the worst.”

I see the moment it registers—the realization that I’m not guessing.

I know.

His grip on the quill tightens.

For the first time since I met him, he looks trapped.

Good.

I lower my voice. “Start talking.”

###

She’s staring at me, arms crossed, waiting.
I knew this moment would come.
I just thought I’d have more time.

Do I lie? No. She’s too smart for that.

I swallow. My mouth feels dry.

“…I’m not from here.”

Io doesn’t even blink. “That’s not news to me.”

“…No, I mean—not just the village. Not even the country. Or the continent.”

She leans forward slightly. “Then where?”

I take a breath. Somewhere far.
Too far for her to have heard of it.
Too far for me to even explain.

I shake my head. “You wouldn’t believe me.”

She doesn’t move. “Try me.”

I hesitate. She’s not going to let this go.

I rub the back of my neck, exhaling slowly. This is it. No turning back.

“…I think I’m from another world.”

She raises an eyebrow. “You mean across the sea?”

I force myself to meet her gaze. “No. I mean—not this planet. A different one.”

The words feel ridiculous coming out of my mouth.

I expect her to scoff. To laugh. To accuse me of making things up.

She does none of those things.

Instead, she studies me. Measuring. Calculating.

“And how do you explain it?”

I let out a dry laugh. “I don’t. One moment, I was home. The next? The forest.”

I shake my head, running a hand through my hair. “How do you even describe something like that? Magic? Divine intervention?”

Io doesn’t react. Not right away. She watches me carefully, like she’s waiting for a crack in my story.

“…So you have no idea what happened?” she asks, voice quieter now.

I exhale. “No. You were the first person I met. I thought I was still back home.”

Her brow furrows slightly, her fingers tapping idly against her arm.
She’s thinking.

Then, finally—

She… leaves.