Game Master in Another World

I awoke to a sliver of sunlight warm across my face. I couldn’t remember falling asleep, but then again, it was the first time I’d slept in twenty years. The forest was peaceful, filled with a soft dawn chorus of birds greeting the morning as if the violence of yesterday had never happened. Nearby, Illara was still asleep, her breathing calm and steady.

The feral rage of yesterday had ebbed away, leaving only a distant ache in my muscles—a wrongness I could not fully claim. Whatever instinct had overtaken me then was quiet now. Dormant.

As I pushed myself upright, sensations I had long forgotten hit me all at once. The tight, gnawing twist of hunger. A throat dry enough to crack. And, much more pressingly, the sudden, undeniable realisation that I needed to pee.

How does a woman even do this in the forest?

The thought struck with unexpected urgency. I frantically searched Drisnil’s memories, but apparently, mundane survival mechanics weren't worth preserving in an assassin's mind. After a moment’s panicked debate, I simply walked a discreet distance from the camp and hoped for the best.

Crouching in the brush, I couldn’t help but bitterly lament the missing appendage I had once taken for granted. It used to be so simple. Still, when the stream finally ceased, the familiar sense of relief reminded me that some human experiences remained universal, regardless of the body you wore.

Thirst came next. Out of habit, I reached for the flask on my belt and drained it. The cool water soothed the raw scratchiness in my throat. I refilled it at a nearby creek, adding a drop of purifying potion just to be safe. Hunger would have to wait; the iron rations I carried shouldn’t be wasted unless absolutely necessary.

It struck me then just how vivid everything felt. The icy shock of the water, the dented, rough metal of the flask, even the rich scent of damp moss clinging to the creek bank. After two decades as a formless observer, these sensations hit almost painfully sharp. My senses had been starved for too long, and now they wanted to devour everything at once.

When I returned to the clearing, Illara was sitting up, rubbing her eyes. The moment she saw me, fear snapped her awake. She scrambled backwards, freezing like a cornered animal.

“Please, don’t come any closer!” she shouted.

“Don’t worry,” I said, keeping my voice gentle. “My name is Drisnil. If I meant you harm, I wouldn’t have carried you back to your campsite, would I?”

Illara hesitated, wrestling between fear and reason. “My cheek still stings. You attacked me and poisoned me. How is that not harm?”

“True,” I admitted. “But you were panicked. I needed you calm. Putting you to sleep for a while was the only way I could keep you safe.”

She tightened her grip on her blanket. “But you’re… you’re an evil monster. The miracle I cast told me so. What motive are you hiding?”

I paused, choosing my words with care. “My motive is to protect you, Illara. I swore it when your mother, Ilza, died. I’ve been watching you ever since, keeping you safe where I could. I may appear evil, but that doesn’t define me. It only reflects my past.”

Confusion softened the hard edge of her fear as she considered this. “If that’s true… why have I never seen you before?”

“I’ve kept hidden. My presence tends to frighten people, and I didn’t want that for you.”

“How did you know my mother? She never left the village.”

“I was tailing an adventuring party, trying to learn their intentions. I followed them to your village and met Ilza then, though she never knew. When she died, I chose to make sure her child would still have a full and happy life.”

The half-truths came much easier than I expected. They rolled off my tongue naturally, as if deception was a muscle memory this body had practised often.

Illara slowly relaxed, a fraction of colour returning to her cheeks.

“Are you hungry?” I asked. “I can go hunt for breakfast.”

She gave a small nod.

“All right. While I’m gone, could you get the campfire going again?”

I slipped back into the forest. Instinct made me move quietly, my boots silent on the fallen leaves as though invisibility was second nature. The morning brightness stung my eyes, making the world painfully sharp, but after a short search, I spotted a rabbit nibbling on a patch of nettle. I crept close, drew my short sword, and struck. The blade pierced its skull cleanly.

I skinned and gutted it using the same sword, working with swift, practised hands that weren't entirely my own, then skewered the meat on a sturdy branch.

When I returned, Illara had revived the fire. I set the rabbit over the flames, and we sat across from one another, watching it roast.

“How did you kill the rabbit?” Illara asked, the silence finally stretching too thin for her.

“I snuck up on it and struck it with my short sword.”

“How did you get so close without startling it?”

I thought for a moment, consulting Drisnil’s memories again. The answer came easily this time. “Magic items,” I said. “Silentstride Boots and a Cloak of Leaf-Shadow. They enhance stealth. How do you think I’ve followed you all these years without being noticed?”

Illara’s eyes widened at the mention of magic. “I’ve never seen magical items before,” she said eagerly. “May I look at one?”

I unclasped my cloak and held it out to her. Illara flinched as I leaned closer, but she cautiously took the fabric. The morning air immediately bit at my arms; I wore only a thin singlet and leather trousers beneath the cloak.

Illara examined the garment with reverence. “These must have been rare. How did you get them?”

I considered the old campaign memories. “I received them as a reward for finding someone.”

“They must have been important.”

“Yes. And difficult to find,” I replied quietly.

The rabbit meat had turned a pleasant golden brown, the sizzling fat dripping into the fire and sending up a mouth-watering aroma. I removed it from the flames, tore off the hind legs for myself, and handed the rest to Illara. We ate in silence. For me, it was the first real food I’d tasted in twenty years. It was gamey, chewy, and imperfect—but it was absolutely glorious.

After the meal, Illara wiped her greasy hands on her trousers. “What are your plans from here, Drisnil?”

I paused. I didn’t want to give up this new body, and I had already sworn to protect her. As far as options went, I had very few.

“I’ll follow you back to the village,” I said. “I can talk things over with Cain and see what comes next.”

“Jenna won’t accept you. And… I still don’t trust you,” Illara warned.

“What’s she going to do?” I shrugged. “I can’t imagine Cain turning away a good fighter, and your dad will probably insist they help me after I saved you.”

Illara looked down, her voice soft. “True…”

“Either way, we need to deal with the bandit issue soon,” I added. “Before they get closer to the village. And that’s something I can help with.”

The words tasted strange. The memory of the scouts’ massacre clawed up from the back of my mind. But this time would be different. This time, we would learn who the bandits were before taking action.

With the matter decided, neither of us lingered. We dismantled the camp and scattered the ashes. Illara bowed her head and whispered a quick prayer.

“May Solvarn help us find our way home safely.”

We set off through the forest, weaving between towering trunks and thick undergrowth. Illara moved gracefully, barely disturbing the brush. She insisted on walking slightly behind me, her unease obvious—she never wanted to expose her back to me, always keeping me firmly in her sights.

“The village will be disappointed I didn’t bring back an animal,” Illara said, breaking the quiet rhythm of our march.

“I’m sure they’ll just be glad you’re home,” I replied.

“Maybe… but the harvest workers will arrive soon. Cain wanted extra meat to share with them.”

“I’m sure Norma will figure something out.”

Illara frowned slightly. “It’s strange, you knowing everyone’s names when I’ve never seen you before.”

We kept walking. Drisnil’s stamina was remarkable, but I could still feel fatigue gently tugging at my limbs. It was almost comforting—just another forgotten human sensation returning to me.

Eventually, we reached the forest’s edge. The world opened into wide fields glowing under the late afternoon sun. I squinted as the sudden brightness stabbed at my eyes. This body saw beautifully in darkness, but daylight was another matter entirely.

We crossed the fields, the golden wheat brushing against my fingers. I ran my hand through it slowly, letting the rough, dry texture sink into my skin. It felt like rediscovering something precious.

“You look as though this is a new experience,” she said, noticing my distraction.

“I’ve been hiding a long time,” I replied. “It’s… nice to be out in the open again.”

A lie, or at least half a truth, but a necessary one. As the familiar cluster of cottages rose ahead, Illara finally picked up her pace, eager for home, and I fell into step behind her.

As we entered the village, people stopped what they were doing and stared. Their eyes followed my every step. I felt entirely exposed, as though I were walking unclothed into the centre of the square.

We reached Illara’s home. She rushed inside, and out of habit, I followed without thinking.

“I’m home!” she called.

Theo swept Illara into a desperate hug, tears shining in his eyes. Then, over her shoulder, he noticed me. I was so used to being an unseen observer that the sudden shock of his attention scraped right through me.

“Who might you be, stranger?” Theo asked, his tone guarded.

“This is Drisnil, Dad,” Illara said quickly, pulling back. “She rescued me from bandits in the forest.”

Theo’s tension vanished, his shoulders dropping as profound relief softened the worn lines on his face. “Thank you for saving my daughter. I am truly grateful.”

“It is—” I caught myself before instinctively saying not free, and corrected smoothly, “—my pleasure.”

The door behind me opened, and Ash entered. My reflexes spiked, Drisnil's body instantly tensing, poised to defend itself in the confined room. But Ash simply walked up and wrapped his arms around me. The genuine warmth of the hug completely caught me off guard. I exhaled a shaky breath and let myself relax into the embrace.

Illara watched, a flicker of concern returning to her eyes.

“Illara,” I said gently, stepping back from Ash, “could you take me to see Cain? I believe I have business with him.”

She nodded. “Okay. Follow me. I’ll be back for dinner later, Dad.”

“Yes, of course. Drisnil must have dinner with us,” Theo insisted warmly. “She is our daughter’s saviour, after all.”

Illara simply responded with a tight-lipped, “I guess…”

I followed her back outside and toward Cain’s house. The soil was damp under our boots, and thin curls of smoke drifted from the thatched chimneys of nearby homes. The familiar traces of hearth-fires, woodsmoke, and cooking meat drifted through the air—faint, but unmistakable. The smells stirred something deep and forgotten within me. After twenty years without a body, even the simple scent of wet earth felt overwhelming in the best possible way.

We reached Cain and Jenna’s home. They had taken over Athelmod’s house after he retired, and the place felt significantly livelier now with three children running about. Illara knocked on the heavy wooden frame.

“Hey Cain, it’s me, Illara!”

Cain opened the door. His eyes crinkled with a smile for Illara before locking onto me immediately. “Welcome back, Illara. And who is this with you?”

“Her name is Drisnil. She rescued me from some bandits who got the jump on me.”

“Is that so?” Cain’s posture straightened slightly. “Thank you for saving my pupil, Drisnil. I’m pleased to see Illara home safe.”

“We didn’t manage to catch any game,” Illara apologised, looking down. “We were too worried about the bandits.”

“That’s all right,” Cain said warmly. “The important thing is that you’re safe.” Then he turned his full attention to me. “So, Drisnil. What were you doing out in the woods all by yourself?”

“I was staying hidden while following the bandits,” I replied evenly. “Making sure they didn’t attack any innocent people.”

“That isn’t—” Illara began, but I gently placed a hand on her shoulder, stopping her.

She froze at the touch, her muscles locking up beneath my fingers.

“How noble of you, Drisnil,” Cain said, though his eyes remained carefully blank.

Inside the house, Jenna stood near the hearth, whispering the familiar, hushed words of a miracle. I felt the distinct, probing tug of detect alignment brushing across my skin. I didn’t resist. Better that a devout woman like her knew the truth now rather than later.

Her expression shifted instantly, a dark scowl settling over her features. She began ushering her children through the back door with tight, hurried movements.

“Cain, dear. May I have a quick word with you?” she asked sharply.

Cain nodded, his jaw tightening. “Illara, Drisnil, please come in and sit at the table. I’ll speak with my wife and be right back.”

We stepped inside. The home looked much as I remembered it from above, though far more lived-in now. A large iron pot simmered over the hearth, sending rich, savoury aromas sweeping through the room—beef, onions, fresh herbs. The smell alone made my stomach knot with vicious hunger. After two decades without sensation, scent hit so much harder than taste ever could.

Jenna and Cain slipped into the next room. Their voices were low and muffled, but the topic of their frantic conversation was obvious: me.

Eventually, they returned. Jenna’s fierce scowl stayed fixed on me; Cain wore the strained, overly polite smile of a man who was worried he shouldn’t be smiling at all.

“So, Drisnil,” he said, pulling out a chair. “How can we repay you for what you’ve done?”

I placed a small, bloodstained bag on the table. “You could pay me for killing the bandits.”

Cain opened it, recoiled slightly, and stiffened. “You know Illara’s testimony would have been enough. You didn’t have to… go this far.”

Jenna muttered darkly under her breath. I distinctly caught the name Solvarn.

Cain cleared his throat, pushing the bag back toward me. “I can pay you five silver for each person, if that’s acceptable.”

“That sounds fine,” I replied.

He counted out the coins and handed them over. Illara watched in surprise, her eyes flicking nervously between us.

“That brings us to the bandits themselves,” Cain continued, his tone shifting to business. “Could you send word to Ravencrest so they can send soldiers to help deal with them?”

My mind stalled. Memories of what had happened the last time soldiers came to “help” this village surfaced like jagged ice breaking through water.

“I’m not going back to Ravencrest,” I said calmly. “I’d rather stay here a while. You’d show Illara’s saviour at least that much courtesy… wouldn’t you?”

Illara’s face paled with sudden fear. Jenna’s expression darkened even further. She opened her mouth to argue, but Cain placed a gentle, warning hand over hers, stopping her.

“I’m not sure we have anywhere for you to stay,” he said carefully.

“I can sleep outside, that is fine,” I offered.

“Are you sure? Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in proper lodging?” Cain pressed, clearly hoping I'd move on.

“It’s fine. I’m used to it,” I lied smoothly.

Cain let out a defeated breath. “All right. But please follow our customs here. We’re a close community, and troublemakers stand out.”

“I understand,” I said.

Their distrust pressed against me like a cold wind—sharp, undeserved, and entirely foreign. Yet I accepted it. A fresh start rarely begins with warmth.

“So, back to the bandits, Cain. Would you be willing to form a party from this village to investigate? I’d be happy to help out for a small fee.”

Cain thought for a moment, his eyes studying me closely. “I’d prefer not to form a party with someone I do not know, if I’m being honest.”

It seemed he had firmly made up his mind, so there was no point arguing the matter further. I gathered the coins and stood.

We moved to leave, but Jenna motioned for Illara to hang back.

“You go on ahead, Drisnil,” Illara said quietly. “I’ll catch up.”

Sensing the ensuing discussion would be entirely about me, I agreed and stepped out the door alone.

I walked ahead alone, letting the evening quiet settle around me as the tense atmosphere of Cain’s home slowly faded. The village paths were empty, and my footsteps felt entirely too loud in the stillness. I wasn’t sure whether I belonged here yet, but Illara’s home was the only place that made sense to return to.

I reached the house and pushed the door open, stepping inside.

“Oh, hello Drisnil. You don’t have a habit of knocking, do you?” Theo said with a warm smile.

“I take it Illara told you our names?”

“Yes, she did on the walk through the forest. I also know Ash does not speak.”

I sat down at the sturdy wooden table. “Illara should return soon. She had some business with Jenna first.”

“Thanks for letting me know,” Theo replied, returning to the hearth.

A short while later, the door creaked open and Illara stepped through. “Dad, Ash, I’m finally home.”

“You’re just in time for dinner.”

Theo served up generous plates of roasted lamb with potatoes and broccoli. It was basic, hearty food, but being my first proper, sit-down meal in this world, I fully intended to savour every bite.

“May Halwen bless this food and help guide us,” Illara prayed, bowing her head.

We began to eat. The food was simple but incredibly satisfying, leaving a comfortable, heavy warmth in my stomach.

“So, where are you staying, Drisnil?” Theo asked between bites.

“I’ll be sleeping outside,” I replied evenly.

“We can’t have that. You are our daughter's saviour, after all. You’ll have to stay with us,” Theo said kindly.

Across the table, Illara stiffened.

“No, it is all right. I’ll be more comfortable outside, I think,” I said, catching her reaction. “But one thing you could do is allow me to have a wash?”

“That sounds fair enough,” Theo replied.

Illara visibly relaxed.

“Good,” Theo smiled. “I’m pleased we can help the hero of the family, at least a little.”

Once dinner was done, I helped clear the table and wash the dishes. The warm, soapy water and the repetitive, mundane rhythm of the task reminded me of living at home with my parents—small, quiet moments I had sorely missed while living alone in my old life.

When the chores were done, Illara gave me a small nod toward the door, an unspoken invitation to follow. She led me out to a small wooden shed behind the house, retrieving a bucket and filling it with water from the pump.

“Here you go. I’ll just be inside if you need anything,” Illara said stiffly, turning away.

Left alone in the dim shed, I stripped off my clothes, took up the rough cloth, and began to scrub the dried blood from my skin. As the cold water turned pink, the sudden, horrifying realization hit me: this blood wasn't mine.

The emotional dam finally broke, but it didn't come as quiet sadness. It came as a physical assault. My unfamiliar chest seized, the muscles locking so hard I forgot how to pull air into my lungs. Then the first sob tore its way up my throat—a harsh, ragged sound that scraped against vocal cords unused to grief. Hot tears spilled over my freezing cheeks, blinding me, mixing with the freezing water and the pink suds on my skin. I sank to my knees on the damp floorboards, wrapping my arms around my ribs just to hold myself together. It had been twenty years since I had felt anything—let alone the crushing, visceral weight of another person's violent history—and the sheer sensory overload of a human breakdown was simply too much.

I sensed someone watching me. I snapped my head up to see Illara looking through the small window, her expression twisted in confusion. The moment she saw me looking, her face vanished into the shadows.

Once I felt clean enough, I quickly pulled my clothing back on, desperate for the armor of leather and cloth.

Stepping out of the shed, Illara motioned me back inside the house. “You can sit in front of the fire for a bit to warm up.”

I gratefully took the sliver of hospitality. I sat on the rug in front of the hearth, while Illara took a chair on the opposite side of the room. Theo had already gone to bed, leaving the house bathed in the quiet crackle of the flames.

“So, what do you do, Drisnil?” Illara asked carefully, breaking the silence.

I searched through Drisnil’s memories. “I find people and things.” It was at least half the truth. There were also the paid assassinations.

“So, the statement about not killing people for free…”

“Well, sometimes the people I find… I am also paid to kill, yes,” I admitted softly.

Illara’s expression tightened with fear. “Did you kill any good people?” she asked timidly.

“Typically, only bad people ask to kill other bad people. Rival gangs, mostly. But I can’t say I’ve never killed a good person, because I just wouldn’t know.” I stared into the fire. “But those days are in my past now. I have decided to leave that life behind.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t like it. I don’t want to kill people anymore, unless it is in the service of others, for the greater good.” They were my honest thoughts—Geoff's thoughts—not Drisnil's. Deep inside my mind, I could feel the cold, sharp presence of Drisnil welling up, sneering at me. She thought I was being incredibly naive.

“So why would you appear to be evil, then?” Illara asked quietly, her voice practically a whisper.

“I’m not sure. Maybe it is the sum of my past actions showing through?”

Illara didn’t seem entirely convinced, drawing her knees up to her chest.

“Right. I’ll take my leave now,” I said, standing up. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

I left the house and walked out into the dark fields to find a suitable spot to camp. As I lay under the stars, I let the sharp bite of the night air wash over me, taking in the forgotten sensation of the cold with quiet, thrilling excitement.

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