Night fell quietly over the unfamiliar land, wrapping the world in a soft, shadowed stillness. One by one, the lights dimmed, voices faded, and the household drifted into sleep.
Michael lay still for a long time, listening.
When he was certain that no one remained awake, he slowly pushed himself up from the bed. Every movement was careful, deliberate—his eyes scanning the room, his ears straining for the slightest sound. The house remained silent.
To his luck, everyone was asleep.
He slipped out of the room and made his way through the house, each step light, cautious. Then, without a sound, he stepped outside.
The night air greeted him—cool, alive.
But what he saw next surprised him.
The streets were not empty.
People moved about as though it were still day, tending to their own tasks, conversations flowing, lanterns casting golden light across narrow pathways. Life, it seemed, did not pause here—not even at night.
A sudden pang of hunger struck him.
Following the scent of food, Michael found himself in a narrow lane where a small vendor had set up shop. It was modest—only four chairs placed around a simple counter. Three were already occupied, their occupants quietly eating.
Michael took the last seat.
"Hello, sir. How are you? Here is the menu—order whatever you like."
The chef spoke politely, though his eyes lingered a little too long. There was something off about Michael—his clothes, unfamiliar and out of place in this world.
Michael picked up the menu.
To his surprise… he could read it.
His brows furrowed slightly.
So it's true… he thought. Magic really exists in this world. I can actually understand this.
The realization sent a strange chill through him.
He scanned the menu, astonished by the variety of dishes—most of them completely unknown to him. But then, his eyes settled on something familiar.
Chicken.
Relief washed over him. It was the only thing he recognized, the only thing that felt remotely normal.
"I'll have this," he said, pointing.
The chef nodded and began preparing the meal. As he worked, he muttered under his breath, almost as if speaking to himself.
"…when will this dark age end…"
Michael caught the words instantly.
"Dark age?" he asked, leaning forward slightly. "What's that?"
The chef froze for a brief moment.
Then he turned, giving Michael a strange, guarded look.
"It's nothing," he said quickly. "Don't worry about it."
Michael frowned. The response only deepened his curiosity.
Why wouldn't he tell me? What's so important about it?
Before he could ask again—
A sudden force struck him from the side.
A man sitting next to him lunged forward, grabbing him and clamping a hand tightly over his mouth.
Michael's eyes widened in shock.
"Hey, wait—this isn't necessary. Let him go," the chef said, his voice tense.
"He heard the word 'dark age' in this kingdom," the man replied sharply. "He might expose us."
Michael struggled slightly, trying to speak, but his voice came out muffled beneath the man's hand.
"What?" the chef asked, confused.
The man loosened his grip just enough.
"What are the dark ages?" Michael repeated, his voice clearer now.
The chef stared at him.
"Come on… you're not that dumb to not know what that means."
Michael shook his head, frustration creeping into his tone.
"I swear, I don't know. Please—just tell me what it means."
The man finally removed his hand, though his gaze remained suspicious.
"Bro… nobody's this clueless," he muttered. "The king himself banned that word from being spoken in public—and you still don't know?"
Michael exhaled, then said firmly, "Fine. If you don't tell me, I'll just go around telling everyone you said it."
The chef's expression changed instantly.
"Hey—wait, wait! Don't do that," he said hurriedly. He glanced around nervously before lowering his voice. "Listen carefully."
Michael leaned in.
"This era… is what we call the Dark Age. People have stopped thinking for themselves. They blindly follow whatever the Church says." His voice dropped even further. "There are secret societies trying to change that—to bring back free thought, to start a revolution."
Michael listened, completely absorbed.
"But the king and the Church…" the chef continued, "…they work together. They don't want that change. So anyone connected to those societies—or even anyone who dares to speak about it—is executed. Along with their entire family."
A heavy silence followed.
Michael glanced at the man beside him.
"So… that's why you covered my mouth?"
The chef nodded.
"Exactly."
Then his expression hardened slightly.
"And don't you dare repeat any of this to anyone. Understand?"
Michael raised his hands slightly."Alright… I won't."
The tension slowly eased.
The chef handed him his food, and Michael ate quietly, his mind still processing everything he had just heard. When he finished, he stood up and left the vendor.
The streets stretched endlessly before him.
He wandered aimlessly, observing everything—the architecture, the people, the strange yet fascinating world around him.
Then—
A hand touched his shoulder.
Michael turned quickly.
It was the chef.
"Hey… what happened?" Michael asked. "Did I forget something?"
The chef shook his head and leaned closer, lowering his voice.
"Your clothes," he whispered. "They're not what people wear here. You'll attract attention. Come with me."
Michael hesitated for a moment… then nodded.
He followed the chef back, changed into clothes that blended seamlessly with the locals, and handed over his original ones. The chef took them without another word and returned to his stall.
Now dressed like everyone else, Michael stepped back into the streets.
And this time… he truly began to explore.
What he saw left him in awe.
Magic was everywhere.
People used it as casually as breathing—small spells lighting lamps, objects moving effortlessly through the air, children practicing simple tricks with laughter echoing around them.
It was no longer something distant or unreal.
It was life.
As he walked, he overheard a group of children talking excitedly.
"…the first test…"
"…it gives you powers…"
Michael slowed his steps.
The first test?
Curiosity stirred again.
He approached a girl nearby.
"Hey… excuse me," he said. "Do you know what 'the First Test' means?"
The girl looked at him, slightly surprised.
"Of course I do," she replied. "It's a test that awakens the magical powers inside you."
Michael's eyes widened.
"Oh… do you know how I can take it?"
The girl smiled faintly.
"Yeah," she said, turning away. "Come. Follow me."
And without hesitation—
Michael followed her.