First Contact

The sight of civilization after days of wandering caused him to slump to the ground, all the tension draining from his body. Exhaustion overwhelmed him, and Damien lost consciousness on the spot.

...

When Damien woke up, he found himself staring at an unfamiliar man with a scruffy beard.

Startled, he sat up abruptly, backing away before realizing he was lying in a bed. Well, if it could even be called a bed. It was more like a wooden box with a sheet spread over it, without any real blankets.

"■■■■■■■■," the bearded man spoke, but the language was completely foreign to Damien. It wasn't any language on modern earth he knew—he had no idea what the man was saying.

"I... I don't understand," Damien admitted, confused.

The man frowned, shaking his head. He seemed to be thinking deeply for a moment, his expression growing more serious as he considered something. Since Damien couldn't understand him, there was nothing to do but remain silent.

"Isn't this whole 'transmigrated to another world' thing supposed to come with a language bonus?" Damien thought wryly. He had finally reached civilization, but if he couldn't communicate, asking for help would be impossible. Worse, he was now just some suspicious stranger in an unfamiliar land, with no way to explain himself.

If things didn't go well, at best he'd end up in a prison cell—at worst... well, he didn't want to think about that.

"Um..."

Just as Damien opened his mouth to try and convey that he meant no harm, there was a knock at the door.

The bearded man raised a hand, signaling Damien to wait, then walked over to the door.

Damien Crowell finally took a look around the room. It was a small space with nothing but the bed he was lying on and the wooden chair where the bearded man had been sitting. There were no windows, and the door—now knocked upon—looked like thick metal.

This wasn't just some room. It was, unmistakably, a prison cell.

He had considered earlier that at best, he might end up in a jail cell. Now, it seemed he was already there. Realizing his situation, he felt a wave of despair wash over him. Just then, the bearded man returned, holding a tray with what looked like bread and soup.

"Um... is this... for me?" Damien asked hesitantly. He assumed it was, but he didn't want to risk doing something that could worsen his situation. The man, seeing his hesitation, mimed eating the bread and soup, then managed a somewhat awkward smile.

"Thank you... thank you very much," Damien said, bowing his head deeply in gratitude. Even if the man couldn't understand his words, he hoped the gesture would be recognized. Maybe they had some sort of bowing culture here, too.

The man looked a bit surprised, then patted Damien's shoulder lightly, saying something in that same unfamiliar language. Damien couldn't understand the words, but it felt like the man was trying to encourage him.

The man stood up, gave Damien a gesture that seemed to mean "Wait here," and left the room.