I fall back on the bed.

  The mattress swallows me, comforting my back. I give out a sigh.

  It was a pretty eventful day. Accomplished more than what I projected in my mind. I figured something like this would take weeks, even months to get there.

  But this?

  It seems like luck is finally landing on my side.

  Or maybe this is simply the beginning of the end for me.

  I twist in my bed. The only good part about this is that I essentially have free shelter and free food. I even have spare clothes if I need them. Hot showers, it’s a thing that I’ve missed for a while.

  I can get a little complacent here, however. Six months. That’s doable. No way they’ll figure out I’m the wrong guy. Right?

  Who am I kidding…six months. Half a year. That’s longer than some people last in relationships. And I’m stuck here with a title I didn’t even sign up for.

  I twist on my bed again. Not to mention the name thing too…

  Lucien Rainrunner. I said it once, and now it’s me. What a dumb alias. But hey, if they believe it, who am I to argue?

  I move in my bed again, after weighing the pro’s, here came the bad. A total shocker.

  Slavery.

  The scarier part is the slaves. I don’t justify it…but acting like a civil rights leader won’t do me much good. It’ll get me kicked outta here faster than I got here. I’m not here to play good guy. I’m just here to survive.

  Hopefully they have a grotesque form…like that pig-monster hybrid I ran into earlier. Maybe I’ll feel a little bit better about it.

  I stop myself from twisting on the bed for once. I sit up near the edge of the bed, rubbing my face.

  I can’t do this.

  My body begs me to rest, but my mind won’t stop running. My leg bounces—habit, instinct, something to bleed off the energy I don’t know what to do with. Too restless. Too energized and tired at the same time.

  Maybe the nap I had in the carriage plays a part? I don’t know.

  I get off the bed. I’m not in my regular badlands attire anymore, but a simple shirt and sweatpants. It feels like a clash of era’s in terms of clothing. One moment I was looking at people wearing dresses in the blazing heat.

  The very fabric of my sweatpants feels strange against my skin—soft, modern, familiar. But outside, there’s the scent of dust, old wood, and open plains. Like two different worlds stitched together in one room.

  Speaking of a room, in this one, there was a closet, a table with a chair, and a couple windows. It was big, meaning that this was pretty much designed to be your home for the next 6 months. Thing is…the design is funny.

  There are only three rooms here. The bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen. No living room, no attic, no anything. Furthermore establishes the point that they want you to be satisfied, not comfortable.

  The bedroom is big, but not inviting. Functional, and not comforting. The bland paint and the wood floors don’t make it any better. But this beats anything I was going to have before.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  I don’t hear much, besides the crickets or cicadas outside having a competition on who could be the loudest. The only sound is my own breathing. No hum of a fridge, no faint chatter through thin walls. Just stillness.

  It felt, depressing. This room felt on par with an office cubicle. No entertainment, no anything. That’s the worse part about it. How is someone supposed to smile in a room like this?

  With that being said.

  I crack a smile.

  Challenge completed. Can’t let something like this dampen my spirits.

  I walk over to the table. The dagger placed there. I pick it up, wield it. I still remember the shopkeeper who gave me this. I haven’t had any practical use for it, but I’ll keep it. You never know.

  As I continue to play with the dagger, I was unaware at first, but it gradually picked up volume. The sound of jewels clashing against each other. Unmistakable.

  No. It was different, or sounded different. It came as a wind chime this time around. At first I thought it was the ones outside. Maybe someone put them out in terms of decoration. But the rhythm…no. Far too different.

  Chimed as if it was it’s own arrival.

  As if it was waiting.

  But the big difference? Was that pressing feeling.

  The pressing feeling against my chest.

  An additional chill ran down my spine. Cooling, and unexpected. Connected, tied to me. It softened my grip on my dagger enough to the point where it almost slipped out of my hand.

  Light flashed quickly before fading away, and I snapped my head. There it was, the blade. Rusted as it could be. The black handle, the deep brown rust splothed randomly. At some times you could see the black metallic color underneath.

  It had came back.

  Came back why?

  Why now?

  I drop my dagger on my desk. My eyes instantly glued to the sword like a toy my mother had gotten me for Christmas. I shake my head, catching myself gawking at it.

  I look over to my dagger, and then back at the sword. Can it hear me? Should I say hello?

  I remember what the shopkeep told me. Is this a Pact Weapon? Did I make a pact? Thing pops in and says hello whenever it wants to now. Is it supposed to protect me?

  I feel like I’m talking to an alien, and I have to make good first impressions or unless it vaporizes my entire planet. What’s stopping this thing from just swooping in and slicing me clean in one slash.

  Haunted swords don’t exist in this world…do they?

  My left hand grabs onto it instinctively. Thanks for coming around, now what? Not like I need you now. If I did…I wonder how different my journey would be so far.

  Nevermind. What’s good is that this rusty sword is here now. To protect, hopefully right?

  I lift it off the bed. It’s still heavy, but I don’t have to put as much effort this time around. I try to wield it around, but it almost carries me. It’s momentum is too much.

  I use my other hand for some assistance, and it’s way better. I give out a sigh of relief.

  “Don’t worry. Wasn’t like I was cheating on you with Ms. Dagger over there. It was a fling. A small thing, don’t worry about it. We never even did anything anyways.” I say to the sword. It doesn’t seem to say much.

  But, it’s entire being lights up. And I can feel it’s very weight lifting away from me. The sound of wind chimes fade out as it becomes nothing. As if I was holding nothing in my hand to begin with at all.

  Wow.

  “Looks like you didn’t believe me, huh?” I say in response. Fine. Rusty Sword. Go ahead and ghost me, pop up whenever you want to and save the day. See how much I praise you then.

  I shake my mind off it. Maybe it was just saying hello.

  Don’t need this thing popping up whenever and wherever around me. If anyone else realizes this Pact Weapon is bounded to me, that could speak trouble. Regardless of any intention.

  I head to the bathroom, getting ready for bed. I stretch and yawn, I reach out with my left hand for the toothbrush.

  And I feel it again.

  The panging sense in my chest.

  My fingers instinctively grasp onto something, anything, but I didn’t grab the toothbrush, so how is that possible?

  Then, again. A white light emitted before me. The weight being recognized within my left hand again. In a bold sparkle, it solidified itself again before.

  The Rusty Sword.

  It appeared, again.

  I look in the mirror, struck. Starstruck.

  I even so much as furrow a brow. This isn’t real, is it?

  I retract my left arm, and it disappears.

  I extend my left arm again.

  Nothing happens.

  No, no. I just got you. I thought we were doing good, what happened now?

  I extend my left arm again, nothing happens. I retract it, nothing happens. The sword is messing with me, is it?

  No. It can’t be.

  I focus on the weight of it within my hand, and how much I gripped it tightly. It’s material, rubber, and something else I can’t yet identify. My left arm was up in the air, and all I did was focus on the thought of the weapon alone.

  And there, with the sound of wind chimes, it’s weight filling itself within my hand. It came in a white light before solidifying itself, it’s rusted appearance…well, appearing again.

  I felt the panging sense in my chest again, but it was nothing that I couldn’t endure. Annoying—yes, but still nothing.

  I look in the mirror, shocked again.I can summon this thing now?

  Summoning a sword at will now?

  Sounds cool.

  Sounds powerful.

  Sounds like a problem.