Late at night in his rented apartment, the only illumination was the faint glow of the computer screen and the headlights of passing cars outside, slicing through the darkness time and again.
Luke was completely wide awake.
His brain felt like an overloaded engine, roaring as it repeatedly simulated possibilities for the future.
Hand it over to the government?
That thought had only flickered vaguely across his mind during the initial surge of adrenaline before he promptly snuffed it out.
It wasn’t that he had anything against the state.
On the contrary, he truly believed the nation was progressing steadily along its own grand blueprint.
The country was busy reaching for the stars and pursuing common prosperity…
Every goal required countless people quietly working hard in their respective positions.
This little “fortuitous encounter” of his was, at the end of the day, just a super-powered personal opportunity.
Perhaps it could stir up a few small ripples, but to raise it to the level of national strategy?
He knew he didn’t have that kind of weight, and he instinctively repelled the idea of a life tightly planned and completely out of his control.
Not to mention those novel tropes where protagonists handed everything over only to lose their freedom—he had read too many of them and was tired of the concept.
“I’ll carry my own weight and forge my own path.
The best way to help the country is not to cause trouble for it.”
He silently settled on his direction.
This road traversing two worlds was one he would walk alone.
Take all the risks, reap all the rewards.
Once he decided to go solo, his immediate strategy became clear.
First, his wardrobe.
He couldn’t wander around King’s Landing in modern casual clothes forever.
It was too eye-catching, and small details could easily give him away.
“Custom cosplay gear is a must.”
Gritting his teeth against the pain in his wallet, he spent over six hundred more on a shopping app to order two sets of custom *Game of Thrones*-style outfits.
One was a noble’s casual outfit in pure black, devoid of any house crests or embellishments, relying solely on fine tailoring and a muted texture to project authority—ideal for occasions requiring status or blending into the upper city.
The other was a light gray ranger outfit, complete with a cinched waist, leg wraps, and leather bracers.
Crisp, functional, easy to move in, and unobtrusive—perfect for initial exploration and mingling with the lower classes.
Next were his starting resources.
The selection criteria were straightforward: high value, easy to repackage, devoid of modern markings, compact, and long-lasting.
Pinduoduo came through in grand style once again.
He ordered fifty rustic bamboo canisters, ten jin of refined white sugar, ten jin of edible salt, and ten jin of rock candy.
In a low-productivity medieval world, salt and sugar this white and fine were absolute hard currency.
He carefully divided the white sugar and salt into twenty-five bamboo canisters, roughly two hundred grams per canister, and sealed them tightly.
The rock candy was individually wrapped in oil paper.
In addition, he bought ten classic glass bottles of Florida Water, twenty bottles of Essential Balm, and ten cheap off-brand perfumes.
These things weren’t worth much on Blue Star, but in a Westeros plagued by lack of medicine and swarming insects, they might work miracles.
He inspected each bottle individually, ensuring all labels were tear-off paper stickers and that the bottle bodies bore only simple patterns without a single Chinese character or English word.
All these supplies, along with the two good-quality fruit knives he had grudgingly purchased, were stashed into his portable space, save for a portion stuffed into a distressed gray backpack.
Time inside the space seemed to stand still; items could be retrieved exactly as stored, perfectly solving the problems of preservation and concealment.
***
Three days later, just as dawn was breaking.
Luke changed into the light gray ranger outfit.
The fabric was thicker than expected, but after stretching a bit, it felt nimble enough.
Slinging the distressed backpack onto his shoulders, he packed inside five canisters of white sugar, five canisters of salt, the package of rock candy, two label-less bottles of Florida Water, and all the Essential Balm.
He checked himself over once more, making sure there were no texts, trademarks, or out-of-place details from Blue Star on his person.
Taking a deep breath, he focused his mind.
This time, his selected arrival point was a back alley on the edge of Flea Bottom, near the Old Gate.
There was less garbage there, and fewer people.
The familiar feeling of weightlessness hit him right on schedule.
However, the very instant his form materialized and his feet touched the rough stone floor of another world—
“Ouch!”
A startled cry exploded from behind him, followed immediately by a solid impact.
Luke stumbled and nearly pitched forward, hearing a heavy thud and a groan of pain at the same time.
He whipped his head around and saw a ragged, foul-smelling beggar sprawling on all fours a few steps away.
Underneath him was a shattered bowl, and several blackened copper coins were rolling across the ground.
The beggar was equally stunned.
Rubbing his lower back, his eyes bulged as he stared at Luke—who had suddenly blocked his path—as if he had seen a ghost!
He clearly remembered that when he looked back just a moment ago, this alley had been completely empty!
Luke’s heart squeezed violently, and adrenaline rushed through his veins.
In a flash of lightning, he realized: huge trouble!
He had been witnessed materializing out of thin air!
He couldn’t let the man overthink it, and he certainly couldn’t let him raise an alarm!
Preempt the situation—that was the only strategy that flashed through Luke’s mind.
His face instantly hardened into an expression of shock and anger.
Regardless of whether the other person could understand, a barrage of furious English was hurled directly at his head:
“Fuck!
Watch where you’re going, you blind fool!”
“Damn it!
Look what you’ve done!”
“Are you trying to rob me?
Huh?”
As he cursed, he vigorously brushed off non-existent dust from his clothes, glaring fiercely while turning his body slightly, his hand casually resting on his waist.
Where a fruit knife was concealed.
The beggar was completely intimidated by this sudden outburst of rage.
He was already feeling guilty for bumping into someone, and seeing that the stranger was decently dressed, imposing, and using fierce words despite an odd accent, he instinctively assumed he had offended an outsider not to be messed with—a mercenary, an adventurer, or a down-on-his-luck noble lord.
How could he dare ponder why the man had suddenly appeared?
His mind was filled only with the urge to escape.
“S-sorry, my lord!
Sorry!
I didn’t see!
Forgive me!”
The beggar scrambled up in a panic, not even bothering to pick up his scattered copper coins.
Bowing and scraping, he scrambled toward the other end of the alley, vanishing around the corner in the blink of an eye.
Only when the figure completely disappeared and silence returned to the alley did Luke finally let out a long breath.
A cold chill crept up his back, his inner shirt soaked in cold sweat.
He leaned against the cold stone wall, his heart pounding like a drum, taking quite a while to slowly calm down.
“That was close…”
He whispered the words softly, a wave of lingering fear creeping up his spine.
This accident was a loud wake-up call.
Teleporting randomly onto the street carried way too much risk!
This time he had run into a timid beggar, but what if next time he landed directly in front of a Gold Cloaks patrol, or stumbled into the eyes of some desperate thug?
He had to find a relatively safe, concealed base in this world as soon as possible.
A small stronghold where he could appear and vanish at ease, store goods, and even use for initial trades and gathering information.
Looking around, although this back alley was temporarily empty, it was by no means a place to linger.
He steadied his breathing, adjusted his backpack, and stepped out toward the distance.
A safe base—that was now his most urgent objective, second only to completing his first transaction.
The shadows of King’s Landing spread silently beneath his feet.
And Luke’s path of survival and gold-prospecting in another world had begun—hastily yet inevitably—amidst an accidental collision and a blustering shout.