Looking at the runny porridge in the pot in front of him, Sam couldn't help but feel depressed.
Even though it had been over a week since he got transmitted into a body of a young man named Samuel in a medieval-like world, he still hadn't gotten used to the living conditions of the life of a poor farm boy.
At first, when he realized that he had transmitted, he thought that things couldn't been so bad. After all, he was a person from the modern world, there had to be some knowledge in his head that he could use to survive in the other world right?
He was so wrong. Most of his knowledge was useless.
All that he remembered was that you should wash your hands before you eat.
The cool Science and physics stuff that could be used as an advantage was long forgotten. After all, it had been more than 10 years since he finished school. So fuck him.
If he knew that one day he gonna got hit by a truck and got sent to another world, he would have chosen to study something like engineering instead of human resources.
He wanted to say sorry to his parents. He should have listened to them. But it was too late now.
Tho, he had a good life and did well for himself working as an hr for a big company. It was not useful at all in the current situation.
He hadn't eaten anything for two days. Standing up to take the pot out of the burning woods took all the energy out of him, making him sway towards the open fire.
But before that could happen, four small hands grabbed him from behind. But because the owner of the hands barely had the energy themselves, all of them just ended up on the floor a few inches away from the fire.
"Be careful, Sammy. Luckily you already put the porridge down or else the two of us would have starved to death tonight" the younger boy on his right who looked to be around the age of 10 with bright green eyes and messy, dirty brown hair said while breathing heavily.
"Yes, you almost wasted my effort. I had to beg my dad for days before he let me give you some of the rice" the boy with blue eyes, dark hair, and a pale complexion said to him before he lay flat on the dirt floor and closed his eyes like he needs a rest after running a marathon.
"Are you alright Emmanuel? You better not die or else Lord Edmund will skin us alive" the green-eyed boy said after catching his breath.
"He wouldn't care, Daniel. I'm a bastard. Remember?" Emmanuel said while still in the same position.
"Bastard or not you still have his blood running in you, Emmanuel. If you die because of us peasants, we wouldn't be left alive" Sam said before getting up with his shaking legs and offering a hand to Emmanuel.
"What? You are not going to help your own brother?" Daniel said with a fake pout before getting up on his own without much difficulty.
"You are not the one with a weird disease, Daniel. You can get up on your own" Emmanuel said grumpily before taking Sam's hand.
Emmanuel's hand was cold and clammy, and Sam could feel the boy's bones through his thin skin as he pulled him up. He weighed next to nothing, and that fact unsettled Sam more than he cared to admit.
"Thanks," Emmanuel muttered, avoiding eye contact. Sam didn't push it. He didn't have the strength for emotional drama. Not tonight.
The three of them sat around the pot in silence, the watery porridge bubbling softly as it was cooling down. It was mostly water with a hint of rice and some greens Daniel had scrounged up from somewhere. Maybe someone's discarded scraps. Sam didn't ask.
Daniel grabbed a ladle — more like a cracked wooden spoon — and started serving the porridge into chipped bowls. He handed one to Sam, then himself.
Emmanuel didn't touch the porridge.
Instead, he pulled a small cloth-wrapped bundle from under his tunic and carefully unwrapped it on his lap. Inside was a dense, slightly overcooked lump of rice and vegetables, pressed together like a brick. It smelled faintly medicinal, bitter and earthy beneath the starchy scent. Sam could recognize none of the ingredients.
He looked away from the boy's food before Sam stared at the pale slop in his bowl. He didn't want to eat it. He didn't want to not eat it either. But he forced it down with mechanical motions, spoon after spoon, because that's what survival looked like now.
"Still got enough of that miracle rice?" Daniel asked, eyeing the bundle with thinly veiled longing.
"It's not for sharing," Emmanuel said, not unkindly. "The apothecary said the herbs can hurt people without my sickness."
Daniel scoffed, flopping back dramatically against the dirt wall. "Must be nice, having an apothecary."
Sam didn't say anything. He just kept chewing his own flavorless spoonfuls, glancing sideways at Emmanuel. The boy was careful, taking small bites, chewing slowly. Like every grain mattered.
"I begged Father to let me give you some," Emmanuel said quietly, his voice almost swallowed by the crackle of the fire. "Told him the two of you would starve. He wasn't going to agree at first."
Sam looked up at that. "What changed his mind?"
Emmanuel paused mid-bite. "I told him you were useful. That you help me walk to church so people don't see me looking weak."
Sam raised an eyebrow. "That's it?"
"I also reminded him he doesn't want his bastard dying. Not when it might make people talk."
Daniel snorted. "You mean people might remember he stuck it in a maid while his lady was giving birth in the next room?"
"Shut up, Daniel," Emmanuel said, a bit too quickly.
The air went heavy for a second. Emmanuel's hands tightened on the food bundle. His knuckles whitened.
"…Sorry," Daniel muttered. "Didn't mean that."
Sam leaned forward, letting his empty bowl rest between his knees. "You really risked pissing off your father for us. We have no idea how to pay you back"
Emmanuel shrugged one shoulder, looking away. "Your mother raised me. And you… You're all I've got left now."
The fire popped, spitting sparks. Sam sat with that for a moment, the heaviness of the boy's words settling on his shoulders. He didn't know how to respond. In the HR world, that was the kind of moment where you nodded seriously and scheduled a follow-up meeting with a mental health professional.
Here, there were no forms to fill. No professional distance. Just the dirt under his nails.
"So, what's the plan for tomorrow?" Daniel asked, once his bowl was clean and he was licking it for the last bits of flavor. "You think the merchant caravan's still in the village?"
"If it is, they won't be for long. And we got nothing to trade anyway," Sam said.
"I have something," Daniel said, reaching into the inside of his ragged shirt and pulling out a small, shiny pendant. It looked like it had once belonged to someone rich, maybe even noble. Definitely not something a peasant boy should have.
"Where did you get that?" Sam asked sharply.
Daniel shrugged. "Found it."
Sam narrowed his eyes. "Where?"
"…The inn. From one of the rooms," Daniel admitted, voice low.
"Are you insane?" Emmanuel hissed, eyes wide. "If the guards catch you—"
"They won't," Daniel snapped back. "They're too busy kissing Lord Edmund's ass and chasing thieves that actually matter. No one's going to miss this. I've been watching. The merchant left in a hurry. This was under the bed."
Sam leaned back, tiredly rubbing his face. "And what do you plan to do with it?"
"Sell it. Or trade it. Maybe get some bread. Or dried meat."
"Or get yourself killed," Emmanuel muttered.
"Better than starving slowly," Daniel replied, defiantly.
The firelight flickered in their eyes, and for a moment, none of them said anything. Outside, the wind howled through the cracks in the wooden hut, carrying with it the scent of dirt, damp straw, and distant misery.
Sam set his bowl down and stared into the fire. He missed his old life. His warm bed. His fridge. Even the stupid meetings that could've been emails. But most of all, he missed certainty.
Here, all he had was a kid brother, a sad rich kid, a bowl of watery porridge, and the terrifying weight of being the only adult in this mess.
"Give it a few days, I will try going to the wood. To check up on the traps that I set. If there is nothing than we could follow your plan"