"Holy shit!" Vars exclaimed in his head as he looked at the crashed truck.
He was just out to get some groceries for his home. He even looked both ways before crossing the road, but somehow a truck appeared out of nowhere and almost smashed into him. Fortunately, he managed to quickly dash out of its way and it hit a tall light pole not far away.
But as fate would have it, just as Vars was brushing some dirt off his clothes, the lightning pole broke from the impact and fell directly on top of his head, cracking his skull.
"This is not how I go out! I still have so much I want to do!" Vars thought as his vision started turning dark and he knew that death was just around the corner.
Even though Vars seemed like he had many regrets, he really didn't. He was an orphan. His parents had left him near the door of an adoption centre as soon as he was born. He stayed there until he turned 14.
The people at the centre were actually really nice and took great care of him, but he didn't want to burden them. He knew they only had so much funding for all the children in the centre. So one day, in the dead of night, he ran away without them noticing and took a train to a nearby city so that they wouldn't find him even if they searched.
He started doing odd jobs which were barely enough for him to get by.
Lady luck, however, seemed to have taken notice of him, and one day at the age of 18, he won the lottery! It was not a very big lottery, but it wasn't small either. This gave Vars financial freedom and he swiftly left his part-time jobs and put all his focus on the thing he loved most – ART.
Movies, books, painting, plays, videos – everything that involved creativity to create. He just found it so interesting, he loved to see human creativity on full display in all these mediums. He loved to experience laughter, sorrow, anger, pity, horror, suspense and mystery when exposed to these works.
He didn't just watch them, he also studied them. With all of the time in the world, he also got pretty good at them. He learned to draw and paint at a professional level. Learned video editing. Wrote a few well-received books and also shot a short film.
He was 28 when he died on that day. His funeral was attended by some of the only friends he had and just like that, he was gone from this world...
---
"Young man! Young man!" A sharp, raspy voice of a white-bearded old man called out.
With a jolt, Vars woke up from his slumber and sat upright on the rigid earth. He frantically turned his head in all directions, looking like he was trying to find something. Then with his hands, he started feeling his body. Fine. Everything was fine, it seemed. No sign of injury anywhere.
"I got hit on the head by that light pole. How the hell am I even alive?!" Vars thought inwardly.
"You look confused, child. Maybe I can help you," the old man from before said, offering him help.
Just as Vars was about to speak up, he felt a sharp pain in his head and a torrent of memories flooded into his brain.
He was currently Kayas Munnis, a noble—or, at least, that's who he would have been if he wasn't a bastard son of his father.
His mother was a normal peasant. As he turned 18 years old, to hide his existence from the world, his father had given his mother some gold and supplies and sent them to a faraway town to spend the rest of their days.
His mother, however, not wanting to deal with the responsibility of parenthood anymore, abandoned him on the journey to the town. This left him fending for himself, and just as he was about to reach a village, he died from thirst.
"You look physically weak... probably haven't eaten in many days, I guess?" the old man asked him once again.
Although this situation of getting reincarnated into another world was absurd to him, he had read many stories about this exact thing happening as isekai was a popular genre. So he didn't freak out and just accepted that he had been reincarnated.
"You are right. I am indeed very thirsty. I am actually a wandering... storyteller..." Vars said, trying his best to sound distressed and weak so that he could get some food and water.
"Ahh, no worries! The people of Glammow are very kind! Come, I will give you some soft bread and water. My name is Willaim for your information," he said as he motioned for Vars to follow him.
Vars got up and, along with the old man, started to go deeper into the village. The village was small, maybe having a few hundred residents at best. All the houses were either made with straw or wood or a mixture of both.
The hot summer air slammed into Vars's face as he took each step. The smell of fresh bread being baked also made its way to his nose. Chit-chat of adults talking, vendors selling their items, and women gossiping added an additional layer to the whole environment.
"That's my humble little shop right there," the old man said, pointing to a small wooden hut with a big window in the distance.
He walked forward and opened the shop's door.
"You don't fear someone's going to steal from you if you leave the door open?" Vars asked curiously.
"The people of Glammow are very kind," he said in a cheerful tone.
He then looked around, found a small water bag and handed it to Vars to drink. He then looked around and picked up a bag full of apples. He tossed one of them to Vars and said:
"Eat as much as you want, young man. This old man can afford to give you some," he said, flashing a warm smile.
Vars, without wasting any more time, started to devour the apples. He quickly picked up the second and third one and was only satisfied after the fourth one. While he was eating, the old man just sat down and watched the youth with a warm smile.
"Thank you so much," Vars said.
"Ahh, no worry, young man," he said.
"I would like to repay you in one way or another. Please, I insist. I can't just take free food and water from you."
"There is no need for that! I feed you because I wanted to. Not because I expect anything in return," he said firmly.
"And I am helping you because I want to express my gratitude to you, not pay you back for the favour," Vars said with firmness in his voice as well.
After some more back and forth, the old man finally gave in and handed him the bag of apples to sell on his behalf.
"Apples for 3 copper, apples for 3 copper!" Vars shouted as he walked through the village.
A middle-aged woman came up, picked up 3 apples from the bag, handed Vars 9 copper coins and started walking back when, suddenly, she turned back and asked:
"You're an outsider! And here I was thinking why I don't recognise your face. I assume you're helping old man Willaim with his business?" she asked in a curious tone.
"Yes, yes I am, ma'am," Vars said with a small smile on his face, trying to look as cheerful as he could.
Vars then went around the village selling for about 2 hours before all his apples sold out. He made some small talk with the locals. Almost everyone said they didn't recognise him, and he had to explain he was an outsider. Nothing important.
Vars then made his way back to the hut of old man Willaim. He saw that Willaim was taking a nap. He lightly nudged Willaim's shoulder, causing him to wake up.
"All sold out," Vars said, placing the bag on the ground.
"You were a huge help, thank you very much, young man," Willaim said.
"It's nothing."
"Actually, there is a question I have been meaning to ask you... When we first met, you told me that you are a story... teller? What kind of a job is that?" Willaim asked.
"Oh, it's just someone who tells tales and stories of all kinds."
Willaim furrowed his eyebrows and gave a look of utter confusion. It was like what Vars was saying defied common sense.
"And what are these tales and stories... you talk about? Am I getting too old for all this?"
Now it was Vars's turn to be confused.
"What are tales and stories? No matter how old he is, he must have heard some stories, right? This doesn't make any sense," Vars thought in his mind.
"You know, recounting of epic tales like that of a hero! Or the fall of an evil king. Good triumphing over evil?" Vars asked.
The old man's face did not improve one bit. He looked just as—if not more—confused about all this than before.
"Entertainment. It's just a form of entertainment. You know, to keep yourself busy, to pass the time. Stories help you explore new worlds and teach you valuable lessons. They also entertain you," Vars said, trying his best to explain the concept of stories to Willaim.
"What is... entertainment?" Willaim asked.