"This shithead."
Lovek groaned as his first view of the morning was his roommate's bare ass and dangling junk.
"Jorn! I told you yesterday—PUT YOUR ASS IN PANTS!" Lovek barked, his voice rough with annoyance.
"Good morning to you too, Lovek," Jorn replied casually, stretching like a lazy cat.
"A good morning would involve you wearing pants. Wear. Fucking. PANTS!" Lovek snapped, pulling the thin blanket over his face as if that would erase the image.
"Alright, alright, no need to snap," Jorn muttered, finally slipping on a pair of worn trousers.
Lovek glared at him. "Next time I see you without pants, I swear I'm gonna kill you."
Jorn smirked but said nothing, heading out the door.
Lovek sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. "Why the fuck is this happening to me?"
Two weeks ago, he was Jae Rake, an average guy living in the modern world. Now, he was stuck in the body of a medieval peasant named Lovek.
…..
Lovek stared at his reflection in the bucket of water—a young, squarish face with hazel eyes and brown hair, still in his late teens.
When he transmigrated into this world, he had retained all his memories, though they were a little hazy.
His parents had died four years ago, leaving him alone. Since then, he had lived with Jorn.
Jorn, with his round face, blue eyes, and light blond hair, was another orphan from the town, about the same age as Lovek. When Lovek first arrived in this world, it had taken him some time to accept his new reality. During those days, Jorn had been the one to take care of him.
Lately, Lovek had been adjusting to their way of life as well.
During the day, both of them helped around town with menial tasks. In return, the townspeople provided them with food and other necessities—though rarely money.
At the moment, they were helping people by drawing water from the well.
This starkly contrasted with what Lovek knew of the Middle Ages. In his past life's knowledge, people in such times only looked out for themselves.
"I don't think anyone else is coming," Jorn said, glancing around.
"Yeah. What's the haul today, then?" Lovek asked.
Jorn peeked inside the sack. "Some potatoes, some tomatoes, flour, other vegetables… oh wow, and some dried meat."
Lovek raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure it's not tree bark or something? Who the hell would give us meat?" he said cynically.
"It's meat," Jorn confirmed after popping a piece into his mouth. "Bela must have given it to me."
Bela was a girl from the village, the same age as Lovek and Jorn. Her father was the local butcher.
Lovek frowned. "Why would she give us meat?"
"Not us—me. She likes me," Jorn said smugly.
"Fuck off, you dangling balls," Lovek scoffed.
"What? You don't believe me?" Jorn shot back.
"I'll believe you when people start growing hands out of their asses," Lovek said.
"Why would hands grow out of people's asses?" Jorn asked, confused.
"That's my point. It's never gonna happen, just like Bela liking you," Lovek said, clearly annoyed.
"Why wouldn't she like me?" Jorn asked, his tone a little heated.
Having lived two lives, Lovek figured he might as well teach his clueless friend some "wisdom,"
Snatched the piece of meat from Jorn's hand and held it up. "See this? This is Bela."
"Bela is a piece of meat?" Jorn asked, raising a brow.
"That's not what I'm saying," Lovek sighed.
"Then what are you saying?" Jorn pressed.
"I'm saying—just imagine this is Bela—"
"So Bela is a piece of meat," Jorn interrupted.
"NO, you shithead! Just shut up and listen!" Lovek snapped, thoroughly exasperated.
"See? This is Bela," Lovek said again, holding up a piece of jerky.
Jorn opened his mouth to say something, but Lovek shot him a look that promised death if he interrupted.
Then, with a sigh, Lovek reached into his bag and pulled out a potato. He held it up. "And this? This is you."
Jorn frowned. "I'm a potato, and Bela is a piece of meat?"
Lovek sighed again, already exhausted. "Yeah. Bela's the meat, and you're the idiot potato."
Jorn crossed his arms. "And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
Lovek leaned forward, waving the jerky. "Everyone wants delicious meat. It's something people crave, fight over, and value if they have it." Then he gestured to the potato. "And potatoes? They're plain. Common. Grown in dirt."
He paused before continuing, his voice quieter. "Just like that, Bela is desired. She's sought after, and she's valued by her parents. And us? We're plain. Common. Left in the dirt. Orphans."
Jorn didn't say anything for a moment.
Then Lovek smirked and held the potato up beside Jorn's face, tilting it slightly. "And look, you even look like this potato."
Flicking Lovek's hand away, Jorn huffed, "Whatever. I like potatoes, and I'm sure Bela likes them, too."
Lovek smirked, tossing the potato in his hand. "So you don't mind if I eat this myself, then?"
Lovek and Jorn walked back from the well, which stood at the center of the village. Their home was on the outskirts, where the village met the woods. On the way, they passed by Bela's father's butchery.
Bela was there, tending to customers. Her long, flowing red hair framed a pretty, oval face, her light blue eyes standing out against her pale skin. She had a nice figure, and as far as Lovek knew, most of the boys their age had feelings for her.
It wasn't just her looks—she had a good nature too, always polite and smiling when greeting people. Right now, she was smiling at a boy, chatting as she handed him something. Their hands lingered together for a moment, neither pulling away.
Seeing this, Lovek smirked and nudged Jorn. "Looks like you're not the only one getting meat."
Jorn, already watching Bela, scoffed. "I got mine for free. He's buying."
Soon, they reached their home, and Lovek began preparing their dinner. Using some herbs he had gathered around the village, along with meat and vegetables, he made a hearty stew. They ate in silence, the warmth easing their tired bodies, yet doing little for the thoughts crowding Lovek's mind.
His stomach was full, but he still couldn't fall asleep.
He stood outside, staring at the sky. Two moons hung above—one silver, bright and familiar, reminding him of home. The other was smaller, barely half the size of the silver one, muddy, a constant reminder that he was in a different world. They were in different phases, mismatched, just like his feelings about this place.
His new, strange night sky.