The bath was refreshing. It washed all the ick and grime on his body. The young man never felt so clean. Perhaps because he hasn't felt so dirty in a long time? Curious, how contrast shaped his experience.

 

He still droned about the lack of soap, however. Apparently, the inn did provide helpers that have some kind of cleaning Skill. Capital Skill. As a system-bestowed skill.  At least that what he thought that white-haired "grandpa" elf said. Euca refused the offer though. Because his chuckling eyes seem to glinted hint that indicates service of...amorous end. Also that wispy 'Ah, youth,' didn't quite help.

 

He's more interested in this elusive Skill. Skills. This was the second time he seen-slash-heard it. The dark-haired youth felt his blood rush wanting to know how it functions. Magic perhaps? Likely. With how he came to this world and all that. Though his only experience with this so-called magic was watching those TV's illusionists performing card tricks on certain talent shows. Not that he got thrilled like rest of the uncivilized masses when decent everyday Joe and Jane fail in front of national television. Definitely not.

 

The other more probable avenue would be games. Fantasy, MMORPG, sandbox, and the like. He did spend a quite ...appreciable time on them. So perhaps this was like those but with VR? Which wasn't something he would know. He got transported here just a day before his goggles came. Talk about coincidence.

 

Perhaps he could explore that now. Certainly, that would be interesting.  And he more or less settled now. It was wonderful how you could get used to good service. His brand new warm woolen shirt, for example. It came at a reasonable price of one gold coin. Or perhaps that's the inn overcharge him? He didn't know. It's convenient if anything else.

 

"Status,"

 

Holding his breath he spoke in anticipation. Not for long, in just a blink in fact, the reality in front of him flicker. A floating screen warped itself into existence.

"So lifelike..."

 

The young man remarked to himself, touching the screen in amazement. He felt his finger bounced off with ever so slight resistance. Even though this was his second time opening his status screen, —the first one was when he saw the driver's skill— he's still amazed.

 

"Really like phones."

 

It swept left and right, following his finger direction. Which apparently didn't do much besides moving them around the room.

 

"How if I do this?"

 

Gently, he pushed the item menu. The word boop a little beep. Popping another layer of screen, superimposing the first one. Revealing the collection of pouches upon pouches of gold filling his inventory window. Which was the hallmark of [Chronicle]. One of his most, oft-played games that he —most unmistakably— only play in his spare time and not until 2.am. Hurrying to chase six hours of sleep that only came an hour after.

 

He loved the game truly, but if he has a gripe was that the developers had a very bad taste about realism. Realistic logistics. He remembered on beta, that the whole inventory system was this big backpack which you must rummage before taking the item you want.

 

Which of course, angered the players who went out for blood. How potion could be used mid-combat if you need to take it from the bottom of your bag first?

 

The anger was so thick both parties settle on a system that displeased all of them; the stacked pouch system.

 

It meant none of that convenient, bank-like account transfer. All carried coins have weight like everything else. And it could only be carried by stacking those inside a pouch. With one pouch containing one hundred coins.

 

"How it gets here though?"

 

He meant he was thankful he got transported with full storage of items. Those hardcore main characters who transmigrated as a slave.... urgh *brrr*.

 

Still, what should he do with his life? Obviously, he wanted to go home. That's non-negotiable. But in short to mid-term, he should ...adapt? Well, he could treat it as uninformed, non-consensual job relocation. So that's that.

 

"Skill."

 

He cringed. That's what he got by spending half of his time playing MMORPG. Half of your skill was stupid, stupid Evocation. Not to disparage fireball to the face —the melting visual always a big wow.

 

But practically. Prac-ti-cal-ly. Does he want to spend his day dungeon diving? He meant that's what his skill set telling him to do right? What else was he going to do with a freaking lightning blast? Became a human power plant that provided safe clean energy so the world reached environmentalists' version of utopia? Wait... That's interesting... NO! NO! Bad Euca! No getting yourself becoming a low-wage worker!

 

Still, what he ought to do? He didn't want to become an adventurer. Don't those daredevils never miss, he doesn't know... INDOOR PLUMBING?!

 

Chewy jerky, teeth-cracking bread, and stale room-temperature water. Those were ...tolerable. But did all transmigrator-slash-reincarnator landed on perfectly sculpted elf bodice who subsist on nothing but morning dews and exert nothing but glistening sheen of purified sweat?

 

Of course not.

 

Right! His second skillset: Alchemist!

 

Let's see. [Create Purified Water], standard level five stuff. [Internal Clock], oh so that's why he got a detailed reading on times! It used to be more hourglass icon in the game and now it's in his mind? Interesting. And [Basic Rune Working]? If he remembered correctly that came with a guidebook. It should be. He meant, no one really used it in-game because the runes were plastered on the crafting screen. But it's indeed a required item like a workbench.

 

Let's check it real quick though.

 

"Inventory."

 

Scroll down, scroll down. Ah, here it is! Basic Application of [Rune]. So that's it, right?

 

Yep! That'd do! He'd become an alchemist! Concocting expensive potions, doing some research on the side on how to get home, and not getting bitten off by monsters! Splendid Euca! You found your calling!

 

With a newfound spark, he gandered out of the room, excited. Grandpa elf seems to be already retired for the night. Well, no matter! Walking to the front desk, he met the woman who brought his supper to the room.

 

"Miss?"

 

"Oh hello sir, are you enjoying your stay?"

 

The brown-haired woman replied, smiling. "Is there anything I could help you with?"

 

"Yes! Please get me another set of meals. The dinner was lovely!"

 

"I'm glad you like it, Eliza fried dough is always guest's favorite." said the woman, scribbling his order down. "Is there anything else sir?"

 

"Yes," the young man said, pointing to his woolen top. "I'd like to order three more sets of clothes like this one before tomorrow noon, could you do it?"

 

"Certainly sir. But with such a short time, I'm afraid it'd not be fitted. Would that be fine?"

 

"Ah. That's okay. Just make it around my size."

 

"Very good sir, anything else?"

 

"No, that's all for now. Oh yes, just charge it to my deposit."