Chương 12: Chapter 10: Judgmental Text Box

After my breakdown, despite feeling calmer and less burdened, my emotions were still all over the place. I needed to step back, breathe, and regain my footing. Frankfurt turned out to be the ideal place to regain my balance. As I roamed the city and took in its sights, the blend of the new and the old slowly drew me out of my head. The jarring contrasts mirrored my inner turmoil, forging a sense of connection with the city.

In the Bankenviertel, sleek, modern skyscrapers—competing for height and window count—stood beside the Römer, which told the story of the past. The contrast was surreal. Tall steel-and-glass giants stood juxtaposed against an ancient monument. The city felt like a perfect reflection of my mental state: shattered, drowning in grief, scared, and unsure, yet at the same time excited, curious, slightly optimistic, and holding on to a sliver of hope.

I sat there, the stone cool beneath me, distant voices all around, when a wave rose from deep in my diaphragm. My chest tightened, my vision blurred, and tears slipped down again. The ache swelled, then eased, leaving behind the same calm as before. My hands pressed against the bench; its solid feel reminded me I was still here, still holding on. I thought the breakdown at the hotel had been the end, but I was wrong. All day, small surges rose from my diaphragm, making me choke up and cry.

Thankfully, they came and went quickly, and the calm that followed was nice. I sat on another bench by the Main River, looking at the reflection of the city in the water. It was spring already and getting warmer by the day, but an icy wind still came off the river and chilled me to the bone. My vision surprised me. I could see people far off on the Eiserner Steg bridge much better than I should have been able to.

Someone was waving; a woman's hair and scarf were flying in the wind; a family stood for a photo; and a kid was tugging at his mother's coat, saying something. I couldn't hear what he said, but saw everything clearly from half a mile away. I kept moving from place to place, losing myself in the city. Before the Black Forest and the Gate, I did that a lot. Wandering around Europe, looking at buildings, listening to strangers talk, letting the world swallow me up so I wouldn't have to think.

It was therapeutic in its own way. Once I started prepping for the trip, I stopped. But now, when I needed a break, I was glad to see it still worked. Up ahead, the Eschenheimer Tower came into view, a medieval chunk of stone boxed in by glass and steel. Its pointed turrets and weathered facade looked like they belonged in an old painting. I stopped for a moment and looked at it. That tower had seen knights, markets, revolutions—and now tourists taking selfies and people rushing past with earbuds in.

The streets buzzed all around me, and the smell of pizza drifted over from somewhere nearby. Off in the distance, the bells of St. Paul's Church rang, faint and almost swallowed by the noise. In Sachsenhausen, the old quarter, I wandered down cobblestone streets lined with Äppelwoi bars. I didn't drink much, but I stepped into one for a glass of the local cider. It was sharp and a little too sour, but it warmed me from the inside and made me feel spring was indeed here.

When I returned to the hotel, I was exhausted, and my feet hurt, but my mind was clearer. Frankfurt had done its job, keeping the worst thoughts at bay for a while. On the second day, after a morning wandering the crowded streets, I headed to Frankfurt's botanical park, the Palmengarten. It hadn't been part of my initial plan, but I needed some peace and quiet. The city's noise disappeared when I stepped inside, replaced by the soft rustle of leaves and the occasional distant birdsong.

A hidden paradise in the heart of the city. The air in the Palmengarten was fresh and sweet, with that unique mix of damp soil and floral perfume, as if I were hiking in the wilderness rather than in the middle of a crowded metropolis. I wandered along the winding paths, letting the gardens pull me in. Every section was its own little world. The humid, green maze of the Tropicarium, the dry stillness of the desert house with its strange-looking cacti. I stopped thinking about Gates, stats, or anything else.

For a few hours, I wasn't stuck in the past or worrying about what came next. I stayed in the now—just me and the garden—and let my mind take the break it needed to reboot. Finally, I felt balanced and in control, no longer shattering emotionally, whether from my own problems or the strange surges from my diaphragm, and my thoughts stopped scattering in every direction. It was time to get back to my list of tasks. First, the issue with my mana. It was disappointingly low at 76 out of 3, 000.

That made me huff in irritation and take action. I stocked up on supplies: a few takeout meals, drinks, a sleeping bag with a mat, a couple of paperbacks for the quiet hours, and an oil lamp. With my gear in Storage, I headed to the Gate to raise my mana back to something useful. The first day passed in near silence. I lay on the cool stone, the sleeping bag and mat doing little to soften the rough surface beneath me. Overhead, the broken arch framed the sunlight filtering through the trees.

I took slow, deep breaths, letting my body unwind one breath at a time. A faint breeze moved the leaves now and then, but nothing else stirred. The tension eased with each exhale, and my thoughts drifted. I slipped into that in-between state, not quite asleep, just floating, letting everything fade. The next morning, I drank a hot cappuccino, saluted my amazing magical Storage with it, and checked my mana. It increased to 384 out of 3, 000.

Over 300 regenerated overnight, far better than the 100 I'd expected from the Travelers' account. Hm, too slow. Desperate to speed up regeneration, I gave meditation a shot. All the books I read mentioned it was a method to regenerate. Sitting cross-legged, I closed my eyes and focused on clearing my mind. Easier said than done. Stray thoughts barged in, stubbornly refusing to leave and let me be. After a frustrating eternity—or maybe ten or twenty minutes—I finally found a semblance of quiet.

Not perfect, but progress. I stayed in that state for an indeterminate time, but when I checked my mana, it was at 407. Maybe I'm not doing this meditation thing right? I sat cross-legged, stared at my navel, and hoped some mystical clarity would hit me and boost my mana. After a few awkward minutes, I mostly just felt ridiculous. When my mana hadn't budged, I was relieved. Next, I tried meditating on the beauty of nature. Trees rustled, and light filtered through the leaves, with birds chirping all around.

It was pleasant enough, but for my mana? No change. I focused hard on my mana, mentally chanting, "Mana, go up." There was not even a tick on the meter. Frustrated, I visualized my mana system, imagining currents flowing inside me. Nothing clicked; no sudden surge, no insights, not even the Knowing sensation from the system. Zilch. Each attempt left me staring at the same, almost unchanged numbers. What was I missing? Then, an idea struck.

I closed my eyes and concentrated, trying to sense the mana in the surrounding air. At first, it was a struggle. The air held a weight and texture, but nothing distinctly mana-like. But this time, something worked. I Knew I was on the right path. I was so glad about this Knowing function. It didn't provide information or even nudges in the right direction, which was annoying, but at least it gave a sense of acknowledgment when heading there.

So, I pushed on and focused on finding the difference, that subtle quality in the air. Three or four hours in, nothing noticeably changed. Pacing the main hall with the Gate didn't yield any insights either. Hm, how does mana feel? By this point, it was clear the surges from my diaphragm were mana waves. They were responsible for the tears. I concentrated and recalled the feeling to the best of my ability, comparing it to my surroundings. Slowly, it came into focus. There was an energy here.

Not only in the air but also radiating from the trees, the ground, and even the vines and moss around me. I could feel it. A faint constant hum beneath everything, connecting it all. I sank into the sensation, absorbing the energy's presence and letting it wash over me. It was incredibly satisfying to tune in to it. Like finding a layer I didn't even know existed. I stayed calm, reveling in the connection to the mana. Then, a flashing red light blinked in my field of vision.

It was annoying, insistent, and entirely out of place. What now? You have learned the skill Mana Sense Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. All right, I could forgive the interruption. Mana: 452/3, 000 I'd developed the ability to sense it, but still couldn't absorb it any faster. It was still out of reach. I closed my eyes, reached out to that subtle energy, and tried to will it into my body.

I focused hard, like I could coax the mana to flow into me if I just thought it strongly enough. Naturally, nothing happened. If anything, I could almost hear the mana laughing at me, calling me an idiot. Next attempt: I tried "grabbing" at the energy, like I'd manipulated blood before, hoping the familiarity would help. But the mana didn't cooperate. It stayed stubbornly in the air around me and refused to enter me. Maybe breathing it in? I took a deep breath, pulled it slowly through my nose, and felt a change.

There was a faint, almost intangible difference. Something else slipped into me, carried on the air. Encouraged, I breathed in deeply through my nose, then exhaled slowly out my mouth. Each breath brought a faint sensation of mana entering. It was subtle, but there. I tried to draw in more. Held the breath longer, pulled it deeper, slowed the exhale. Nothing. I tried again, focused harder, willing the mana into my lungs. Still nothing.

I shifted position, sat up straighter, took a sharp breath through my nose while concentrating on the surrounding mana, intentionally pulled it in, and let it out through pursed lips. A little better. Tried again. Breathed in, held it, focused, slow exhale. Something clicked. That faint trickle turned into a steady stream. I could feel it now, the flow of mana pouring into me. Just as I settled in, the red light blinked again. I rolled my eyes, exasperated.

You have learned the skill Mana Meditation Alright, I forgave it this time as well. Mana: 762/3, 000 Now we're talking! I settled in for the day, focusing on each breath, letting the mana flow. Hours passed, and eventually, my legs went numb from sitting cross-legged. I flopped onto my sleeping bag and discovered that lying down also worked. No need for the lotus position, then. When I checked again, my mana was 1, 833 out of 3, 000. Progress is the best. At some point, I drifted off to sleep.

In the morning, my mana was 1, 971. No boost during sleep. Bummer. I shrugged it off and sat down to meditate until it finally topped off. Back on Earth, I headed straight for my car. The sight of it stopped me in my tracks. It was covered in dust and looked like it had been sitting here for at least a week, not the three days I'd spent on the other side. Frowning, I grabbed my phone from the trunk, powered it on, and checked the date. Eleven days.

My hand stopped midair, eyes glued to the screen, and everything just… stalled. My mind went blank. Time lost all meaning. My pulse roared in my ears, and I couldn't seem to take a full breath. A heavy weight pressed down on me, and I stood there, frozen. Nothing made sense. I blinked, tried to snap myself out of it, but my thoughts were all over the place. What? How? Why? The questions spun around without landing. I couldn't think straight. Just stood there, stuck, waiting for my brain to catch up.

Finally, as if rebooting, my brain kicked back into gear and flooded me with a barrage of questions I couldn't answer: Time moves differently? How could this even happen? Was it a glitch in the Gate? Did I miss something? My mind raced, trying to piece together the impossible. How did eleven days pass here when it was only three days over there? Had anyone noticed I was gone? Did other Travelers experience this? Was this a one-off, or was I looking at a recurring nightmare?

More and more questions, with no answers in sight. Why was there nothing in the Archive warning about this? What did it mean for future travels? If I left and came back, would years pass on Earth? Decades? Centuries? Was I just supposed to guess and hope for the best every time? I didn't have friends or family to lose to the passage of time, but still! If I traveled through a few worlds and returned, what would I find? A completely changed society? Progress? Decline? What?

The sheer amount I didn't know or understand crashed into me. I was going in blind, stumbling through an unknown situation with no guidance or warnings. Every unexpected twist felt like a gut punch. Guar Shum had a father who'd prepared him for this madness, giving him a solid base to stand on. But me? I was getting blindsided at every turn. As I scrolled through my phone, still in shock from the lost days, a line of missed calls from my lawyer caught my eye.

I dialed him back with a sinking feeling, bracing myself for whatever news he had that had prompted him to call so many times. The phone had barely rung before he picked it up.

"You're a hard man to reach these days," he said, a touch of impatience in his voice. I rubbed my neck.

"Yeah, sorry about that. It's been… complicated."

"Complicated or not, there's something you need to know." His tone shifted, growing serious.

"The court date's been set. Two weeks from now. Your in-laws are pressing forward with the trust fund case." I exhaled slowly.

"I sent you an email with all the information. Just wanted to make sure you saw it when I didn't get a reply," he added, his tone sharp. The call ended, adding another weight to an already overloaded pile. I let out a long breath, booked my flight, and mentally marked the court date as the finish line I had to reach. But for now, I reminded myself to take things slowly and let my poor, shocked mind adjust. Rushing wouldn't do me any good.

Later, sprawled on my bed at the hotel, I tried to focus on something productive to distract myself from the shocking time-skip issue. Most of the books I'd read for research mentioned looting spells or skills, but when I initially scrolled through the lists, I didn't see anything that matched. I hadn't examined them thoroughly, so it might have slipped by unnoticed. From everything I'd read, fights seemed inevitable—that was why I'd trained so hard.

And if I were going to fight, I figured I should be able to claim the rewards. To the victor go the spoils and all that jazz. It was time to dig deeper. Lying there, I scrolled through page after page. Did I find anything? Not a thing! Maybe it's under something weird? I squinted at the descriptions of every vaguely plausible skill. Things like "Resource Gathering," which was a sixth sense to find specific things, and "Inventory Expansion," which expanded a Merchant's skill, of all things.

My brows furrowed deeper with each dead end. Nothing even remotely related to looting. It was as if the system had forgotten this one essential detail.

"Bad system or Guidance or whatever you're called, you're missing crucial components for successful adventuring," I griped, letting the screen close as I slumped back.

"Who builds a system without looting skills?" A feeling of rebuke washed over me. I froze in shock. Holy crap, it communicated with me! And yeah—I might have hyperventilated. I need to raise my Strength stat. Maybe I'd stop feeling shocked at every turn. It said something about dealing with stress better. I closed my eyes, shook my head, clenched my fists, and took a deep, fortifying breath, stopping the hyperventilation. No thinking about a judgmental text box. No thinking about a judgmental text box.

No thinking about a judgmental text box. The following day, I wandered the city streets without thinking, letting my legs carry me wherever they wanted. I wasn't ready for another shock. Instead, I let my gaze drift over the shop fronts and the architecture, soaking in the surroundings and pushing away any thought that tried to barge in. It worked the first time to help me regain equilibrium; I hoped it would help with the shock, too. A pawnshop caught my attention on a narrow side street.

I remembered the Archive mentioned these places, so, curious, I went in. The place was nothing like I'd expected. I pictured a small, dark, dusty shop crammed with random odds and ends. Instead, I found a vast, organized store, bigger than most of the shops I'd visited lately. A long glass case cut the store in two, filled with watches, jewelry, gems, and coins. At each end of the glass display were cameras.

One side showcased sleek, high-end DSLRs, while the other displayed a row of collectible vintage models, some of which looked genuinely antique. The air carried a faint scent of polished wood and lemon. Partitions separated the store into sections, and each featured a different category of expensive pawns. Men's and women's clothes bore tags like Versace, Valentino, and Chanel, alongside equally pricey bags and shoes. There were paintings, sculptures, antique china, and silverware made from actual silver.

Vinyl records and books filled another section. Leafing through the books, I saw why they were valuable. Some books included signatures or dedications from the authors, and others were printed 80, 90, or over 100 years ago. Large sections featured sporting equipment, musical instruments, and even power tools. It was like a giant secondhand department store. I approached the counter, catching the salesperson's attention.

"Excuse me, could you tell me about your jewelry and gems? Specifically, the prices?" He glanced at the case and nodded.

"Ja, of course! These all very good price. Much cheaper than normal store." After going through the entire collection, I selected 34 pieces, primarily rings and pendants. My eyes kept drifting to an old vintage camera from the '80s. It was solid, fully mechanical, and best of all, it didn't need batteries. I picked it up, turned it over in my hands, and sent a quiet hope to the universe that it might work in fantasy land.

I'd read that technological stuff didn't work there, but it wasn't exactly clear what counted as tech and what didn't. The salesperson noticed my interest.

"Ah, for that one, there is no flash. You see, ja?" He studied me closely, gauging my reaction.

"That's fine. I doubt I'll need one where I'm going," I said. He looked confused but didn't ask. The salesperson gave me contact information for a photography store that offered film development workshops. I had enough on my plate without more surprises, so a down-to-earth workshop on a subject that interested me sounded just right. Outside, hands in my pockets, I kept walking. Whatever came next, I'd deal with it. Still, better not to think too much and risk another shock.