This is No Dream

​"So this is what they call an isekai, huh?"

​Luis turned his head from side to side, absorbing every detail with a mix of wonder and skepticism. Everything around him was a whirlwind of novelty: cobblestone streets that crunched under the feet of passersby, the scent of freshly baked bread and exotic spices wafting through the air, and a constant bustle that stood in stark contrast to the nighttime silence of his previous world. This wasn't something that happened every day; being summoned to another world wasn't exactly part of his routine.

​"From what I can see, all the typical isekai tropes are here. Wow, they weren't as wrong as they seemed."

​He watched as sturdy horses pulled carriages adorned with intricate carvings down the main street, while street vendors hawked their wares with hoarse, enthusiastic voices. There were products Luis had never even imagined: luminous fruits that seemed to glow with an internal light, enchanted jewelry that changed color at a touch, and bubbling potions in vials of etched glass.

​"Ancient stone walls, vendors crying out their treasures… and demi-humans?"

​His eyes locked onto several figures standing out among the crowd: people with pointed cat or dog ears, fluffy tails swaying to the rhythm of their steps, or even curved horns like those of a ram. Some had mottled fur on their arms; others, iridescent scales on their necks.

​"So there are demi-humans too, just like in the typical medieval fantasy worlds."

​Surprising as it might seem, Luis wasn't a die-hard isekai fan. Sure, his favorite anime was one, but it was different: a complex protagonist, a deep world, and characters who escaped the clichés where the hero has everything handed to them on a silver platter. He spent more time with his siblings and friends than locked in his room devouring series. He wasn't the typical hikikomori dreaming of being transported to another world… though, ironically, that’s exactly what had just happened to him.

​"A lot of kids my age would feel blessed by something like this… but I don't feel lucky at all."

​He had a real life: family, friends, people he truly cared about. From one moment to the next, everything had been snatched away, and it ached in his chest like an open wound, even as he tried to hide it behind a facade of calm.

​"Ah… how the hell am I going to survive in this world? I don't think it's possible."

​He remembered his arrival: the initial shock, his mind going blank for what felt like forever. Then, the fierce denial—"It must be a dream, yeah! A crazy dream"—. He had banged his head against a wall and pinched his cheeks until they burned, but he didn't wake up. That’s when he understood: this was real, raw, and undeniable.

​'Complaining won't do any good… besides, my brothers wouldn't act like this.'

​He thought of them, of his older brothers: extraordinary, brave, and decisive people. He felt he didn't deserve to have them as family, but they wouldn't crumble. They would take control, look for answers, and act with intelligence.

​"They would investigate this world… no, they’d already be on the move, gathering information. Yeah, that’s what I have to do. Find out everything about this place."

​He convinced himself. If they would do it, so would he. He would be like them: strong, resolute, cool.

​"Yeah, I’ll do it. I’ll survive in this world."

​He told himself with determination, swallowing back his tears. He wouldn't cry over something as "useless" as longing to go home.

​After all…

"In those stories, the protagonist never goes back… so I won't be the exception. It’s stupid to cling to the impossible."

​He said it out loud, but inside, the pain persisted. Still, he would act the way he believed his brothers would. And with that in mind, he started walking, letting fate guide his steps…

                             ​※ ※ ※ ※

​"I knew it… I knew it wouldn't be this easy."

​He muttered to himself, clutching his head and leaning against the rough stone wall of a building. Fatigue weighed on his legs like lead and frustration burned in his stomach.

"Why are these people so rude? They were just simple questions; I wasn't stealing their souls."

​He had tried to gather information: asking for the name of the kingdom, local customs, even something as basic as where to get food. But everyone responded the same way.

​"I don't have time, kid."

​"Not now."

​"Get out of here, brat!"

​No one stopped. No one listened.

​"Ugh, this is harder than I imagined."

​If he had known that begging for answers would be such an uphill battle, maybe he would have given up sooner. "This is the height of humanity… or whatever they are here. We’re going to hell as a species."

​Even though they technically weren't from his world, they were human—or demi-human—after all. It was all the same.

​Luis no longer cared about the curious or contemptuous glances the passersby threw his way. It was only natural: nobody else wore a light blue school uniform with dark trousers; nobody else carried a backpack full of Earthly notebooks. He was the outsider, the freak in a sea of robes, armor, and capes.

​"Pff… I really want to give up."

​But at that moment, something caught his attention: in the distance, a man was walking along unconcerned when, from a dark alley, hands emerged like shadows and dragged him inside.

​Luis froze, jaw dropping.

​"Whoa, wait… was that a kidnapping? In broad daylight?"

​Few people noticed, and those who did quickened their pace, feigning ignorance. No one intervened.

​'I know they can't do much if the thief is armed… but couldn't they at least call a guard?'

​He thought, indignant. "Then again, what else can you do?"

​He said it to himself, but a stinging guilt invaded his chest. He couldn't just stand by with his arms crossed.

​'No… my brothers would never do that. They’d help that person without asking for anything in return. They’d expect me to do the same…'

​He imagined their reactions: intrepid, selfless, heroic. If they would do it, why wouldn't he?

​"It doesn't matter. As long as I don't disappoint them, I'll help however I can."

​He steeled himself. He wasn't a hero or a vigilante. Just a thirteen-year-old boy willing to do anything not to fail his brothers, even if they were in different worlds. Better to die trying than to live with the shame.

​And so, Luis headed toward the alley, his heart pounding hard. He was nothing special… just a boy driven by the desire to be worthy.