Morgan suddenly stopped walking, his eyebrows knitted in deep thought.
Where would he go now?
Before his thought could complete, the faint sound of his stomach arose, yet it was clear enough to his mind. Morgan then exhaled slowly and gave a faint smile.
"Let's postpone thinking about the future a little… the important thing now is to find something to eat."
He began carefully sorting through Charlon's memories, until he finally found what he was looking for—the location of the market. Without hesitation, he changed his direction and headed there immediately.
The market was not far; just a few steps away, so Morgan continued walking at a slightly faster pace.
And as he approached, a wave of overlapping voices swept over him.
"Come and try our grilled meats, delicious and irresistible!"
"Hot and fresh beet soup! Drink a bowl in the morning and feel energetic all day!"
"Amber fruits! Come and try them, and you'll go straight to heaven!"
"Fermented berry and margarine juice! One sip and you'll never stop!"
"Chicken! Fresh chicken!"
"Fresh vegetables picked straight from the farm, and at a cheap price! Buy now and get a bonus for free!"
The street vendors shouted along the street, displaying their vegetables, fruits, and hot foods, trying to tempt hurried passersby.
Some people stopped to inspect the goods carefully before buying, while others waved their hands impatiently and moved on, simply because they didn't have enough money.
Morgan took a deep breath as he looked around. He wanted to rush immediately and devour everything he could get his hands on, but he had no money.
So he remained standing in place, thinking about what he could do, his eyes moving between the vendors' faces, unconsciously looking for someone who seemed kinder than the rest. His gaze settled on an old man, who appeared to be in his late fifties or early sixties.
Morgan cautiously stepped toward him, until he stood directly in front of the cart. The old man was initially busy, so Morgan remained standing quietly, staring at the hot dishes in front of him.
The smell of fresh food wafted into his nose and clung to his throat, making him salivate involuntarily.
After a few moments, the old man finally noticed him.
As soon as his eyes fell on Morgan, his expression suddenly changed, and his features tightened sharply.
"What are you doing here, you thief? Are you trying to steal from me again? I won't allow it this time!"
Morgan froze for a fraction of a second, then shook his head quickly, raising his hands in denial.
"No, no! I'm not here to steal from you, sir, I swear. I just… need a little food."
But the old man's frown darkened even more.
"You won't fool me this time. Go away before I hit you."
At that moment, Charlon's memories rushed into his mind suddenly.
This old man… his name was Arbin.
He was known among the neighborhood residents for his strange habit: if someone came to him with a riddle and couldn't solve it, he would give them a full meal for free.
Morgan's eyes widened slightly, then he lifted his head confidently as he looked at Arbin.
"Hmm… Mr. Arbin, I have a riddle for you."
For a brief moment, Arbin's face lit up with a hint of interest, before the frown returned as he growled.
"Is it like those stupid riddles you gave me last time?"
Morgan shook his head quickly, denying it.
"No, this is different."
"Tell me… was the orange named that because its color is orange? Or was the color orange named because it resembles the orange fruit?"
As soon as Morgan finished his question, Arbin stared at him blankly for a few seconds, before putting his hand on his chin and began thinking deeply.
"You'll never be able to solve it… I've searched the internet and never found an answer."
Moments passed, before Arbin sighed slowly, then said in a low voice:
"I don't know the answer… take whatever food you want."
He hurriedly took as much food as he could for free, trying to hide his smile. As he turned to leave, he heard Arbin's voice from behind him:
"Wait… can you tell me the answer?"
Morgan stopped, then turned to him slowly, a slight smile appearing on his lips.
"I refuse."
...
Morgan finally reached a slightly dilapidated street corner, but compared to the other places, it was much better.
He had spent nearly twenty minutes searching for a relatively clean spot where he could eat comfortably without feeling disgusted.
When he found this corner, he felt a sense of relief. He sat down quietly, leaning against the wall, and finally took out his food.
He took a piece of meat, and as soon as he put it in his mouth, he felt the juices slowly flow, mixed with a warm flavor he had not expected at all. He paused for a moment, then his eyes widened in astonishment… very delicious.
He had not imagined that the food would be of such quality, and before he realized it, he began eating quickly.
Morgan ate all of his food, leaving nothing behind. When he finished, he felt a slight fullness in his stomach and smiled a tired smile.
"This is what food should be… nothing less."
After satisfying his hunger, his mind gradually began to think again.
What should I do now?
First, he needed a place to spend the night… at least.
"Should I look for someone I can trick to give me some money?"
He remained lost in thought, before hearing a voice above him. He looked up and saw a man in his mid-twenties, tall, with long black hair falling behind his head, his features calm, and his eyes dark, interlaced with a faint yellowish tint.
"Who is this man? Does he know me? I don't think so. Ah… did Charlon perhaps steal something from him? I don't know…"
"Hmm… excuse me, could you direct me to a nearby hotel? I seem a bit lost."
Morgan sighed slightly.
And why are you asking me? Do I look like a tour guide to you?
But he did not speak this out loud.
He simply shrugged quietly, then pointed with his hand in a direction, saying:
"Go that way, then turn right. You'll find a street on your right, enter it… there you'll find a hotel."
The man's face brightened a little. He said quickly while extending his hand to shake his:
"Thank you for your help. I'm really tired. I'll repay this favor the next time we meet."
Then he walked away quickly, gradually disappearing. Morgan stared at his back for a few moments before shaking his head lightly and returning to his thoughts once again…
Darkness had already fallen, while Morgan spent the entire day lost in thought, trying to find any way to at least steal some money.
But it turned out that no one in this place was willing to talk to him; they would immediately chase him away upon seeing him and call him a thief, even though he had not stolen from them yet.
Damn… all of this because of the owner of this cursed body, who spent all his time stealing, so that no one trusted him anymore.
"Why was I even incarnated in the body of a poor person? At least if I were in the body of a rich person… I would be living in comfort, surrounded by money on all sides."
Morgan stood there, trembling uncontrollably, until suddenly he felt a strange sensation in his hands. It was as if he had placed them over a blazing fire.
The heat increased… second by second.
He looked at his hands quickly.
"W-what the hell is happening?"
Lines appeared on his skin, winding and intertwining, with a dense black spot in the center, surrounded by dark red edges, and slowly, mysterious letters began to form.
Morgan felt unbearable pain; every passing second made the burning sensation intensify, until he felt as if his hands were completely on fire.
Then… the pain spread to the rest of his body.
He felt as if he were being burned alive. He gritted his teeth, his breathing fragmented, and this torment lasted for about a full minute. He was on the verge of losing consciousness, even thinking that the end had come—but the pain—suddenly—stopped.
Morgan fell, gasping, trying to gradually regain his breath. After moments of heavy silence, he slowly lifted his head and looked at his hands once again…