Author Becomes Character (Revised version)

Chapter 12: Lost in Time

The village was... well, let's just say it was the kind of place where you could hear a pin drop. Or maybe the wind howling, which, now that I think about it, was really all I could hear. It had that vibe of a ghost town that was just barely hanging on.

There were plenty of stores, though—like, too many stores for a place this empty. You could tell these places had been set up to be bustling marketplaces, but today? Today, it looked like all the villagers had collectively decided to take a day off.

I wandered past a shop selling dusty fruits, Honestly, the stores seemed like they were ready for a festival that never came. You know, the kind of place you'd expect to be packed with vibrant stalls, the smell of street food, and people haggling for trinkets. But nope, this place? Super quiet.

It felt like one of those towns where you'd walk in, and everyone would just stare at you like you were a visitor from another dimension—and, well, considering my look, I guess I kind of was. Maybe this was the festival season—except the festival was apparently "nobody shows up."

Later, I wandered into a clothing store where an elderly woman gave me a smile that almost seemed genuine. Almost. It was the kind of smile where you can tell she's thinking, "I'm either about to offer you a deal of a lifetime or hide your body in the backroom."

"Can I help you, dear?" she asked, her voice sweet, but her eyes? Uh, not so sweet. 

I glanced at myself in the mirror and immediately wished I hadn't. Oh. My. Gods. I looked like I'd just crawled out of a mud puddle and then got attacked by a wild raccoon. My hair was a mess, and my clothes were half-ripped in so many places.

"Uh, I'll take something that fits," I said, trying to avoid her gaze like I was hiding a criminal record.

"Of course, dear. Follow me," she said, like she was leading me into a new chapter of my life... or into some kind of trap. Either way, I was committed now.

The lady was pulling clothes off the racks like she was planning my future wardrobe. She didn't even ask what I liked. Like, I'm cool with that because I've always wanted a personal stylist, but it was a little too efficient. What if she was secretly plotting to make me wear the ugliest outfit ever as a joke?

She handed me some clothes that looked vaguely decent, and I was like, Okay, but do I actually have a choice?

Then came the offer.

"You know, dear," she said in her sugary sweet voice, "I've got a spare room upstairs if you'd like to freshen up. You're welcome to shower there before you change."

Wait. Hold up. She's offering me her private shower?

Okay, now most people would be suspicious. But I was like, You know what? I'm covered in dirt, and if she's not offering me a free body wash to tie me up in a basement somewhere, I'm going to take it.

So, without even blinking, I said, "That sounds amazing." Who turns down free showers, right?

She led me upstairs to the back room, and suddenly I was in the most unexpectedly lovely bathroom I'd ever seen. It was like she'd been waiting for someone like me to wander in off the street covered in mud. I don't know if I should've felt lucky or concerned, but I wasn't about to ask too many questions. I was just happy to be clean.

I hopped in, scrubbed off a year's worth of forest grime, and changed into the clothes she'd given me. Honestly? Not bad. The outfit was cute, actually! Super stylish. I didn't even know commoners wore stuff this nice. My old clothes couldn't even compete.