New Night

Haruki leaned against a tree, his breath ragged, ribs aching where the wounds from the struggles still lingered. The night air was damp and cold, clinging to his clothes and chilling the sweat on his back. He lifted a trembling hand, tracing the cuts along his forearm, each one burning as though the Wizard’s gaze had branded him.

His legs threatened to give way, but instinct told him not to linger. Step by step, he moved forward, dragging his weight like an exhausted prisoner toward some unknown hope.

Hours seemed to pass in a haze of pain and stubborn will before a glimmer broke the curtain of darkness ahead. Not the eerie, ghostly glow of the Wizard’s castle, but a softer, flickering warmth – emanating from a lantern that swayed gently from the side of a moving carriage.

The driver was unlike anything Haruki had expected. Stocky and broad-shouldered, with a thick beard braided into three uneven strands, the man’s face was worn but open, like the kind of person who had seen both the worst and the best in people and would gladly judge you in seconds.

But all of that took a backseat to the mere fact that he was a dwarf. Just like in a movie.

“Evenin’, lad,” the dwarf said in a deep, gravelly tone, squinting at Haruki from beneath a weathered cap. “You look like you’ve been wrestling with a bear… and lost.”

Haruki stammered, still trying to process the… being in front of him:

“Yo… you… you’re a dwarf…”

“Very perceptive, laddie. Name’s Bruk. Put ‘er there.”

He extended his hand out to shake, and Haruki hesitated, still half-expecting the dwarf to vanish like some hallucination brought on by exhaustion. But Bruk’s hand was real. Calloused and firm, amazingly pulling Haruki onto the back of the cart with surprising strength.

“I know a person in need when I see one,” Bruk said. “No need to make a hullabaloo about it. Just say where you need to go.”

Haruki thought for a bit, but his brain refused to function. He could only let out a weak whimper:

“I… don’t even know where I am.”

“Alrighty then. Why don’t I just take you where I’m going and we’ll figure it out from there, eh? I could use a drink and some grub. Would you like some grub?”

“Y… I… yes… please… I could eat…”

They rattled along the dirt road for a time, the sound of supplies in the back of the carriage rumbled on with each bump. The silence being populated by Haruki’s quiet breathing could only last for so long.

As the road then curved, and the trees began to thin. Bruk leaned forward, the lamplight casting gold along the edges of his beard.

“Best keep your eyes open, lad. Don’t sleep with those wounds. We’re almost there.”

And here – there it was.

The valley below spread like a painted dream. A walled town, its stonework glowing under dozens of lanterns strung between timber-framed buildings, winding along cobbled streets that spiraled toward a central plaza. Towers of pale limestone rose here and there, their spires crowned with banners that rippled in the cool night wind. Beyond the walls, rolling hills cradled neat rows of moonlit farmland, and in the far distance, a river gleamed like spilled silver under the stars.

Above it all, a colossal clocktower dominated the skyline, its face illuminated by an inner light that seemed almost magical. Somewhere in the streets below, music drifted faintly upward – not from instruments, but from the sound of the trees, of the water, of the moonlight. Strange foreign notes played from voices of nature unnatural to his ears, yet beautiful and soothing.

It was no city from home, no place that could be explained away as a hidden European village. This was something older, stranger, and wholly impossible.

Haruki had his suspicions, but now it was truly clear. Just like those anime and manga he had read through.

He had been transported to another world.

The inn sat at the corner of the square, a sturdy timber and stone structure with wide lanterns glowing under warm amber light. Bruk pulled the carriage to a halt and hopped down with a grunt, already calling for someone inside. In just a few short moments, a handful of townsfolk spilled out into the crisp night air. Their faces were flushed from heavy drinks or hearth fire, but their eyes widened at the sight of Haruki – bloodied, limping, and half-slumped against the carriage rail.

Bruk wasted no time.

“Need a healer here, quick,” he barked. “Boy’s been mauled.”

There was no hesitation. A middle-aged woman darted back inside, returning moments later with an older man carrying a leather satchel full of salves and bandages. Others moved to help Haruki down from the cart, their hands surprisingly gentle.

Haruki was eased into a sturdy chair beside the hearth, the fire’s heat stinging his skin where cold sweat clung. The healer knelt beside him, unfastening the remnants of his torn shirt and jacket, marveling at the strange alien fabric of Haruki’s world. The townsfolk gathered close, their boots shuffling against the creaky floorboards, murmuring between themselves while also helping out.

“Get me and the boy a big lamb leg, will ya?” Bruk ordered. “And some ale along the side.”

The healer cleaned each cut with a pungent herbal wash that burned like tiny sparks on raw skin. A strip of cloth was wrapped around his ribs with practiced precision, then another binding for the gash along his forearm. Only when his wounds were dressed and the sting of pain dulled did the room seem to collectively exhale. Faces leaned in, eyes reflecting firelight.

“You poor thing,” one of them murmured. “Where in the stars did you come from?”

Haruki blinked at the sudden attention, still dazed from the long night.

“There was this… castle… I don’t really know where. But it was… blue… it was really weird.”

Instantly, the room seemed to freeze. A man at the back swore under his breath. Someone else gasped audibly.

“You mean that castle?” asked a woman, her voice low as though afraid the walls might overhear.

Haruki nodded slowly. He continued:

“There was this monster inside. He was really… really tall…”

The whispers quelled for just a brief moment, before being hushed and erupting and hushed again.

“Then by all rights you shouldn’t be standing here,” said an older fellow near the bar, shaking his head. “Nobody has entered the castle and come out alive.”

There was a pause, the air thick with implication, before another man leaped up from his seat, shouting:

“I best go fetch the Deacon!”

And just like that, Haruki realized his night wasn’t about to get any simpler.

Haruki stayed quiet as the man slipped out the tavern door, the word Deacon echoing in his head. It wasn’t a title he’d heard since… well, never. Was it some kind of priest? A military rank? Or maybe the head of some secret club? In his mind, it could have been anything from a hunter to the president of a whole country. And that uncertainty did nothing to settle his nerves.

It wasn’t long before the door swung open again. In stepped a man who was, frankly, hard to take seriously at first glance. He wore a long, cream-colored robe that trailed the floor, embroidered with faded golden thread – something Haruki might expect from a high-ranking mage or church official. But perched right on top of his head was a perfectly ordinary brown detective hat, the kind Haruki had only seen in those detective movies.

The combination hit him like a slap.

What the… what? Haruki thought to himself. He was sure that this whole world had had a more medieval fantasy anime vibe so far. But this?

The man carried himself with easy confidence, one hand tucked into his robe’s sleeve, the other holding a thin walking stick more for style than support. His sharp eyes scanned the room, not darting but measuring. They then lingered on Haruki for only a moment before he approached him even closer.

“Young man,” he said, “is it true? You came from the blue castle?”

Haruki hesitated before he asked:

“Who… who are you?”

A pause as the Deacon leaned forward to observe Haruki’s features, scanning him up and down, before he finally said:

“My name is Loto. I am Deacon Loto. I am a serving member of the Naikaia.”

“The what?”

Bruk explained to Haruki:

“The Church, laddie. What else? You’ve never heard of them?”

“Um… no… sorry. I know the word ‘church,’ sure. But… I don’t know much about it.”

“Just tell me,” Loto placed a hand on Haruki’s shoulder. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

Haruki, still caught halfway between respect and disbelief over the hat, managed to tell him the story: the strange castle in the distance, the twisted corridors, the… thing that chased him out. Loto listened without interrupting, his expression unreadable save for a flicker of curiosity here and there.

When Haruki finally ran out of words, Loto simply nodded.

“I see… you say your name is… Haruki, yes? Haruki of… what, exactly?”

“Excuse me?”

“Where are you from, is what I’m asking?”

Instinctively, Haruki repeated:

“I came from… that blue castle…”

But Loto dismissed him:

“No, where were you born is what I mean. It’s clear – you are not from Sunpeak.”

He saw right through Haruki, it was both a little frightening and a relief. But Haruki collected himself before finally letting go – and finally admitting:

“I come from a planet called Earth. I was transported here for some reason. I don’t really know why or how. I don’t even know exactly where I am.”

As Haruki expected, the rest of the room erupted into another wave of whispers that slowly morphed into silent gossip, the kind he could only hear parts of as the conversation disappeared deeper into the dark. What was most surprising, however, was Loto’s composure. There was unease on his eyebrows, sure, but also a look of calm steel.

Loto contemplated for a good long while to everyone’s anticipation, before he finally nodded his head and said:

“Here is what you do – you will meet me in the capital. It will be a three-day journey, so take your time to rest for now. You look like you’ve been through a storm. I will leave ahead of you and make arrangements. When we meet there, I will explain everything.”

Haruki blinked, asking him:

“Why not tell me now?”

Loto’s brows furrowed, he shook his head as he looked around:

“Not here. Not in this dark. There is too much to tell. So rest, my friend. You need it.”