The second half of the night.
The storm clouds rolled southward, fierce and fast, then vanished just as quickly. Rain-washed sky birthed a brand-new moon.
Jiang Li blinked awake in a daze. His phone read 3:30 a.m.
Circadian rhythm—Brother, plenty still unfinished. Time to get up.
He stared at the moon outside the window, half-convinced he was still in the other world. He'd been all set to marry the princess, wait for the old king to kick the bucket, and inherit the throne. He'd planned to live out the rest of his days there.
Now he was suddenly back—deposited right on his own doorstep.
The damned transmigration. One moment it had dragged him into that other world, the next it had shoved him home the instant he'd cleaned up the mess. Used and discarded; the emptiness left Jiang Li oddly hollow.
He'd fought for half a lifetime, finally left the blade-licking days behind, and had just started savoring life as the Hero. The music hadn't even started before the curtain fell.
The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. Sleep was impossible.
He slipped out of bed, stretched, and headed for the living room to fetch a glass of water. The storage-room door stood ajar.
Kakayan never closed it when she slept. If Jiang Li weren't a gentleman, that would be an open invitation for a midnight raid. The Witch Miss had swaggered around for so long she'd forgotten basic caution.
He padded over to close it for her, then glanced inside. The camp bed was empty.
His heart skipped.
Where was she?
This was the modern world; the streets held more than pedestrians on two legs—motorcycles that roared like beasts, night-shift cab drivers, and twenty-ton trucks.
Kakayan couldn't read traffic lights. Running around alone was dangerous. Even if whatever happened to her wasn't his fault—even if she was basically a black-market resident with no ID—Jiang Li still felt uneasy. After all, she still owed him for meals.
He threw on a jacket and hurried to the living room, about to dash outside, when he spotted a silhouette perched on the balcony railing.
Jiang Li's apartment had no glass enclosure, only waist-high iron bars; anyone could climb over. Moonlight, now unobstructed, spilled across the balcony and onto Kakayan.
She tucked stray hair behind her ear, gazing toward the source of the light. Her eyes narrowed; her fingers moved delicately, as though casting a silent spell. Cold, clear features, long hair draping over one shoulder—Jiang Li felt a flicker of unreality.
He stepped onto the balcony. "Doesn't your butt feel cold?"
Only then did Kakayan notice him. She considered for a moment, shifted her weight, and freed a spot on the railing.
Thank the night for darkness. If anyone saw her like this in daylight, they'd already be calling the police about a jumper.
She looked utterly relaxed, like a cat basking in sun. Jiang Li rapped the railing. "Don't sit somewhere so dangerous."
"Dangerous?" Kakayan sounded unconcerned.
A cool breeze swept past; a self-mocking smile tugged at her lips. Jiang Li realized—three floors was nothing to a witch who commanded magic. Besides, the word witch itself was practically a synonym for danger.
He scratched his cheek, not meaning to rub salt in the wound. With a quick push he vaulted over the railing and sat beside her. Three years in the other world had honed his body far beyond an ordinary man's. Heights like this didn't faze him.
To any passer-by, they probably looked like a pair planning a lovers' leap.
In the distance, dogs barked. Kakayan swung her legs; pink strands of hair fluttered in the night wind. She looked like a girl in the spring of youth—no one would guess she was a witch over two centuries old. By witch standards, though, she was barely blooming.
"What are those big metal boxes down there?" She tilted her chin toward the cars parked along the curb—behemoths crowding the roadside, some even crushing the grass.
She figured such boxes must seal something extraordinary. Ordinary people clearly couldn't handle them, or they wouldn't be left on the street.
"They're called cars," Jiang Li said. "Common human transportation. People ride them to go farther."
Judging by her expression, she was already cooking up some chuunibyou scenario in her head.
"Oh..." Kakayan nodded slowly. "So cars are like noble carriages, but commoners can ride them too. Nothing special."
"Exactly."
Understanding dawned: humans mass-produced anything remotely convenient until the world overflowed with it. She leaned forward, studying the vehicles with scholarly focus. After a moment she turned back.
"Which one is yours?"
...
Jiang Li said nothing, only tilted his head to admire the moon. Tonight it wasn't quite full; after the rain the air still smelled of damp earth. Another dog barked in the distance.
"Take me for a ride sometime." When he still didn't reply, Kakayan batted her amethyst eyes. "So stingy."
She turned away, muttering under her breath.
Great. Jiang Li smothered a sigh: he was a twenty-something who'd been hurled into another world before earning a dime. Three months without work, rent nearly overdue. Explaining that to a noble Witch Miss was pointless. She'd only decide that Hero Jiang Li had done pretty well for himself on the continent of Aze.
"Never thought I'd be this pathetic on Earth."
Jiang Li could have asked for a car—one phone call to his family and a modest sedan would be in the driveway by sunset. His parents ran their own shop; if he swallowed his pride and asked, they'd gladly slip him the cash.
He just didn't want to mooch off them.
"I'll take you on a ride as soon as the sun comes up."
"Really?"
"Sure. We're grabbing breakfast anyway."
Watching Kakayan's sparkling eyes, Jiang Li scratched his cheek. A private car was out of reach, but a public bus? No problem.
Beep—coins in, doors closing.
"What are we eating?"
The minute food came up, Witch Miss perked right up. Her eyes shone, and her pretty face couldn't hide the excitement.
Jiang Li smacked his lips theatrically, about to answer, when a sudden thought hit him.
He couldn't even cover next month's rent, and now he had to feed another mouth. This girl was definitely freeloading.
"Come on, tell me!"
Kakayan gave him a playful shove. Jiang Li's body lurched sideways—only a heroic core saved him from a long drop off the balcony. Heroes on Earth didn't come with fall damage; one wrong move and he'd be toast.
"Huaguo cuisine," he muttered, steadying himself.