Surviving in a Fantasy Reverse World Chapter 5: Farmer

My body feels like it's been put through a at grinder and reassembled by a blind surgeon. Every inch aches as I huddle beneath the thick woolen cape, trying to regain so semblance of dignity after being manhandled, paralyzed, and displayed like rchandise at a county fair.

The forest around us has gone eerily quiet following Mirelle's magical assault. No birds chirp, no insects buzz, just the occasional crackle of burning underbrush where her energy bolt scorched the earth. I take several deep breaths, willing my racing heart to slow down.

"Better?" Jhone asks, her voice surprisingly gentle for soone who looks like she could snap in half without breaking a sweat.

I nod, clutching the cape tighter around my shoulders. "Yeah... I think so."

She crouches down to my level, her armor creaking with the movent. Her eyes study my face with a mixture of curiosity and concern that makes deeply uncomfortable.

"I am Jhone, Head Knight of the Honeywood Barony," she says formally. "What is your na?"

"Sam," I reply, my voice steadier than I expected. "Sam Fairburn."

She nods as if committing it to mory. "Sam, how did you find yourself out here today?"

I rub my temples, trying to organize my thoughts. How do I even begin to explain? 'Well, you see, I was dying of cancer in a hospital bed, and now I'm here.'? Yeah, that'll go over great.

"I just... woke up in that field over there," I say finally, gesturing vaguely in the direction where I first regained consciousness. "I don't know how I got here or where here even is."

Jhone's expression softens into sothing that looks disturbingly like pity. "Were you kidnapped from another house? Perhaps a different kingdom?"

Before I can answer, Mirelle slides off her horse and joins us, her staff still glowing faintly at the tip. "Captain, we're located well inside the Vopilia’s borders. Who could possibly…"

"Don't listen to her," Jhone interrupts sharply, shooting Mirelle a warning glance. She turns back to , her scarred face unreadable once more. "Whatever happened, you're safe now."

Safe. The word almost makes laugh. I've been dead, resurrected in a strange world, attacked by goblins, nearly kidnapped by bandits, and apparently cursed to beco a puppet whenever a woman touches . "Safe" feels like a stretch.

"Look," I say, straightening up a bit under the cape, "maybe you could take to a city? I could work on a farm or sothing." The words tumble out as my thoughts race. "Wait, cities don’t have farms. Shit, maybe a town would be better?" I'm rambling now, my mind jumping tracks faster than I can follow. "Do cities here have farms?"

"Yes," she says simply, as if answering a child.

I run a hand through my hair, frustration building. "I don't know where I am. I don't know anything about this place."

Jhone reaches toward my shoulder, her hand hovering in a gesture of comfort before she suddenly pulls back, rembering. The aborted movent sohow makes feel even more isolated.

"I'm sorry," she says, her voice softening. "I've never t a man afflicted with the Curse before."

I swallow hard, the reality of my situation sinking in deeper. "Did a goddess really curse ? Is that really what's happening?"

"Yes." Jhone nods solemnly. "Velthara's Curse is rare but well docunted. Usually, it cos with so form of mory loss." Her eyes scan my face, searching. "May I take you to Honeywood and have you examined? I'm sure your master must be worried sick about you."

The word hits like a slap. "Master? I'm a free man."

Jhone's expression shifts from concern to genuine confusion. She shakes her head slowly. "There are no free n in the Kingdom of Vopilia."

My stomach drops as the implications sink in. This world seems a lot different than mine.

Jhone furrows her brow, studying with renewed interest. "I've heard rumors that n have rights in Ethus. Is that where you're from?"

I let out a hollow laugh. "Lady, I'm from Boston."

"Boston?" Mirelle pipes up, leaning on her staff. "Never heard of it. Is that beyond the Western Mountains?"

"It's not…" I start, then stop myself. What's the point? These won clearly think I'm so escaped property, not a person from another reality altogether.

I rub my face with my hands, trying to process everything. "So, if I'm understanding correctly, n are like... property here?"

Jhone's expression softens slightly. "You truly don't rember, do you?"

"There's nothing to rember," I insist. "Where I'm from, n and won are equal."

She exchanges a glance with Mirelle, who rolls her eyes dramatically.

"Even if what you're saying is true," Jhone says carefully, "I'll still have to bring you in. Protocol demands it."

I let out a resigned sigh. "Alright."

Then a thought hits . "Wait, if I go with you and I don't have an owner, what's going to happen to ?"

Jhone shifts her weight, armor plates clinking softly. "I'll have to take you to Baroness Warren."

My stomach drops. "And what, I beco her slave?"

"I don't know what she would do," Jhone admits, her scarred face unreadable. "But she's a kind woman, fair in her judgnts."

She adjusts her gauntlets, not quite eting my eyes. "The Baroness is on leave at the mont though, visiting the capital to et with the Queen's Council about the upcoming heroes summoning."

I stare at her, my mouth hanging open slightly. "You're just dropping bomb after bomb on , aren't you? First, I'm cursed, then n are property, and now there's hero summoning? What's next, dragons and unicorns?"

"Dragons tend to keep to themselves mostly," Mirelle pipes up helpfully. "But unicorns are quite common in the northern provinces."

I laugh, but it cos out sounding slightly hysterical. "Of course they are."

Mirelle steps forward suddenly, her electric blue hair practically crackling with static as she addresses Jhone. "Captain, let take him to Honeywood alone." Her eyes dart aningfully toward , then back to her superior. "If the other won see a man wandering around... I'm not sure they could control themselves."

"What?" I straighten up, clutching the cape tighter around my body. "Why does everyone in this world want to rape ? First the goblins, then those bandits, now you're worried about your own people?"

Jhone sighs heavily, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Well, besides the usual reasons, it's almost the full moon."

I stare at her, trying to process what she's implying. "Do you beco horny werewolves during a full moon or sothing?"

Jhone's face scrunches in confusion. "Werewolves? No, won just ovulate on the full moon."

"What?" My mind struggles to comprehend. "Like... every woman's cycle is synced?"

"Yes," she replies matter-of-factly, as if I'd just asked if water was wet. "Why wouldn't they be?"

I run my hands through my hair, the implications hitting like a freight train. Things are slowly starting to click for . "How many n are there exactly in this world?"

Jhone shifts uncomfortably. "I can't speak to an exact figure, but I've heard estimates of around one man for every hundred won."

"Holy shit." My legs feel weak beneath . "This world fucking sucks." I sink down onto a nearby log, head in my hands as I spiral. "I'm fucking married, you know that? I know I died, but my wife will fucking kill if I get raped."

"A wife?" Mirelle's eyebrows shoot up, her electric blue hair practically crackling with sudden interest. "Oh, so you do have an owner after all!"

I weigh my answer out with how Kayla used to treat . “I suppose I…”

Jhone's head suddenly jerks up, her attention shifting to sothing beyond the trees. I hear it too now, the distant thunder of hoofbeats and the tallic clinking of armor.

"The rest of the patrol is returning," she says, her voice shifting into command mode. "We need to move quickly." She turns to Mirelle, her expression grave. "Make haste. Take him directly to my quarters and ensure no one sees you. I'll deal with the patrol and join you shortly."

Mirelle's lips curl into a smirk that sends a chill down my spine. "Of course, Captain."

She approaches with quick strides, and I instinctively back away, nearly tripping over a root.

Mirelle's expression softens unexpectedly. "I'm really sorry about this, Sam," she says, and she actually sounds sincere. "But we need to move fast."

Before I can react, her hand darts out and grips my wrist. The effect is imdiate, my entire body locks up, muscles freezing in place as that now-familiar paralysis takes hold. My mind screams in protest, but my body remains a prisoner to this curse.

Mirelle hoists onto her horse like I'm nothing more than a pound of pennies. She swings up behind , one arm wrapping securely around my waist as she takes the reins with her free hand.

Without another word, we’re on our way.