My earlier suspicions were confirmed. 

It was all the same.

The burning torch, the glass window, the wooden table, the chairs. Only the bluish cloth that had covered me when I'd woken up was missing.

There was one thing I hadn't noticed before, though. A trapdoor at the back of the house.

"Wait here, I haven't had visitors in a long-er, a while. I know it's not much, but make yourself at home."

I nodded, watching as Andrew opened the trapdoor and went down into what I assumed to be the basement. In a minute, he returned, holding a bottle of water and a white teapot with golden markings.

"No teacup?" I asked.

He smiled, giving me a slight shake of his head. "Watch." Then, he laid the bottle on his hand and closed his eyes.

I raised a brow. What was he planning to do? And was it safe to not be looking while holding a glass—

My eyes widened.

The bottle of water rose from his palm, spinning slowly. It began to glow and a second later, I was blinded by a bright flash.

When I opened my eyes, the bottle had disappeared. Instead, Andrew was sipping from a teacup filled to the brim with a golden liquid, steam still rising from its surface.

"Want some?" He asked, smiling, knowing he had me, hook, line, and sinker.

"Wha-What?!" My jaw dropped. Extended to the floor, even.

What I'd just seen had overturned everything I'd known about physics, laws, and frankly, reality itself.

"B-but the bottle and th-the cup? T-tea?" The shock had made my words unintelligible.

"H-How?"

He chuckled.

"I've always wanted to see someone's proper reaction. Unfortunately, the others had already known about it when I'd met them."

"The others?"

"The other heroes."

Right. Them. I was somewhat interested in meeting these other so-called "heroes"—who I presumed to be from Earth as well, or at least, hoped so—but for now, I didn't think I was in the right state of mind to meet another human being. And there was something else more pressing to ask about. 

"T-There's magic in this world? And the others can do magic? Like you?" I asked, the excitement in my voice growing by the second. The thought occurred to me that I was a hero too, and I began to feel lightheaded.

He grinned. "Oh, that's not magic. Simply good-old-fashioned crafting."

Crafting? Was that what they called magic here? I was going to ask if I could do it, but before my mouth even moved, he'd already answered.

"Yes, you can do it too. Better than me, actually. And real magic as well."

So he could read my mind. Yet, instead of worrying about the possibility of him knowing everything that went through my head, I was  completely engrossed in thinking about his words. About magic. My mind wandered, fantasizing about flying wizards, wands, and Golden Snitches. I even mouthed the spell, Expecto Patronum, somehow forgetting that I wasn't alone amidst my enthrallment.

For a good ten seconds, he'd stayed silent, staring at my giddy face. I didn’t even realize what he'd been doing until he bursted out in laughter.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Y-your expressions are just so-so—"

"So what?" I barked, coming out of my stupor.

"So innocent." He continued. "Reminds me of the first time the others came here. Like babies."

"Hah?" My face heated up. Kid was one thing, but a baby? I had turned eighteen three months ago, damnit! 

"I am not a baby! I'm a fully grown adult!"

"Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you." He forced a smile. "Actually, I'd rather you could keep that innocence. But, again, I...”

“You what?” I asked, rolling my eyes, expecting another flippant answer. But I was wrong.

“I-I was too late.”

The unexpected quiver in his voice made my heart stir.

"What do you mean by that?" I eyed him carefully.

He hesitated.

"Do . . . Do you remember?"

“Remember what?”

“Earlier.”

“Earlier? What do you mea—”

“Oh.”

He nodded. I grimaced.

That. Right.

My face grew pale. How could I have forgotten? Or had I just chosen not to remember? A heavy feeling sunk in my chest.

It was so ironic. Here I was, calling myself an adult when only minutes ago, I'd done . . . I’d done things I didn't want to recall. Things not even a child would do.

"I-I, I'm sorry," I said, lowering my head.

I didn't know what else to say. This whole time I'd acted as if nothing had happened. I’d taken liberties with this man, who’d invited me into his home after I’d pretty much tried to jump him. The fact that we hadn't even discussed it until now was driving me crazy.

"I . . . I don't know what came over me. If you’re still angry about it, I—"

"I know. It wasn't you." I felt a hand on my shoulder. His.

I flinched at the unfamiliar touch. Normally, I would have demanded him to stop, but right now, amidst what had happened, I had to admit that it was . . . nice. Though what he said next made me reconsider that thought.

"Do you want a hug?"

I froze in place.

"I-is that a no?"

"No-Yes-No. Maybe? I don't know!" I felt my face quickly regain color, heating up.

To be honest, a hug right now didn't seem too bad, but I was far too embarrassed to ask for such a thing. Too old, too. I hadn’t been hugged in … in a long time. And wait, wasn't he still a complete stranger? When had we grown so close?

He did save your life. Twice, actually. The voice in my head conveniently reminded me.

Well, the first time didn't count. I was running from him in the first place!

...Tsk tsk, you have to always be grateful to those who help you. Mother would-

"Ah, shut up!" I yelled. The voice scampered back to its hiding place.

God, sometimes I hated myself.

When I noticed the disappointment in his eyes, I hated myself more.

"I-I didn't mean you—" I started, trying to explain.

"No, no, it's okay. I-I understand. You want your space. And we’ve only just met." He sat back down on the chair, looking down at the floor. "I've been rude, I apologize."

I sighed.

Great fucking it up again, Yohan. Really.

I turned around, twiddling my hands behind my back before taking a deep breath.

God, I hoped I wouldn't regret this.

“Y-You . . . c-can. H-h-hug. Me." I stuttered, staring at the wall.

I hadn't let anyone near me in a long time, even before the pandemic. To think, the closest physical interaction I had in years would be with someone I had just met. And it was someone from another world.

Well, technically we had met before. Not that he remembered.

"Really? You're not just saying that because I—"

"If you don't do it in the next five seconds, the offer's gone." I uttered, my voice cold. 

He hesitated.

"B-but—"

"Two seconds."

“One—”

And before I knew it, his arms were wrapped around me. I trembled. It was strange, having someone touch me again. Touching me for a purpose other than hurting me. Of course, I didn’t count the earlier manhandling. That was an exception.

. . . I felt bubbly. Warm. And there was something else too. Something I couldn’t quite place my finger on. I closed my eyes, brows tightening. It . . . was familiar. His presence. This feeling. It was something I’d felt before. Like I'd done this before. 

Like I’d hugged—

I shuddered. No, no, I hadn’t hugged anyone before. At least, not of my own volition. And, definitely, not this stranger.

But it felt nice. Almost comfortable enough to fall asleep in.

Almost.

"Alright, alright. Get yer paws off me." I said, pushing him away with a scowl. He relented, and when I'd regained my composure enough to turn to him, he'd given me a smile, the gratitude in his eyes blinding.

I quickly looked away. He laughed. 

"Thank you. I needed that. It gets a bit . . . lonely around here sometimes.”

I sighed, unable to stop my lips from curling up. Then I shook my head, a solemn look wiping the smile away from my face. With a deep breath, I turned to him, staring into his eyes. 

I hadn’t forgotten it this time.

"So, can we talk about 'that' now?"

"About what?"

I raised a brow. Could he or could he not read my mind? Or was he just pretending that he couldn't?

"My. . . agh, you know," I said, moving my chin and gesturing outside. “Earlier. You had said it was because this world was different."

“Oh.” His eyes widened a little, as if he was surprised that I’d remembered.

"And clearly, it is." I continued, pointing at the teacup that had appeared out of thin air.

"So, what is this world? And why was I, why were we . . . 'heroes' brought here?"

I shuddered. It still felt weird referring to myself as that. As a hero.

"You told me you'd give me answers." I reminded him, staring at his face closely.

After all, even if we had cleared up my misunderstandings, and even if we had . . . h-hugged—only for a few seconds—I still didn’t completely trust him. And I wasn’t going to let go of a chance to get the answers I'd sought for so long. Who knew when I'd get one again?

He sighed, nodding before turning around and walking to the table.

"Yes, I suppose I did promise you." He sat on one a chair, pulling out the other before looking back at me. "Why don't you take a seat? This . . . This will be a long talk."

I nodded, accepting the offer and sitting down across from him.

"Well, there's... there’s a lot of things to cover. Where do you want to start?" He asked, gazing into my eyes. This time, I didn't flinch. And my interrogation began.

"Where am I?"

"Terraria. Our world. My world." He grabbed the half-finished cup of tea.

Terraria, huh? A . . . interesting name. Not Earth, clearly. I was pretty sure there wasn’t a country with that name. I think.

"Okay. Assuming that this isn’t Earth, then why am I here, on Terraria?" I asked, eyeing his movements.

He sipped a mouthful of tea before replying.

"To save our world."

". . . That wasn't an answer." My eye twitched.

“Well, that’s the gist of it. I can explain it further if you want, but it’d take more than a day to tell you everything. Do you want to?” He placed the cup down on the table, fingers slowly strumming over the wood, waiting for my decision.

I frowned. I seriously doubted that it would take a whole day for him to tell me what the hell “saving Terraria” meant, but I chose to drop the matter with a shake of my head. There were more pressing matters to discuss.

He nodded, picking up the teacup again.

“Some things are better experienced than told.”

"Not everything.” I muttered. Death was one of those things better told, even if it was inevitable anyway. That I was sure of.

“Okay, we’ll save that for later then." I said, raising my hands in resignation. "So, how exactly did I get here? To Terraria?"

He stopped drinking mid-sip, sighing.

"I don’t know much about the specifics of it, but you were summoned here. By the Gods, I presume.”

“And do these gods like to summon people from other worlds without their permission?” I asked, not bothering to disguise the irritation in my voice.

“No. You were asked to come here. And you agreed."

“What? I didn’t agree to anything. I—"

“You did. A hero cannot be brought to this world without their permission.” His voice suddenly grew solemn. A crack appeared on the teacup's handle.

“They cannot be brought here against their will.”

"Well, sorry to burst your bubble, but I'm afraid I did—"

Shatter. 

The teacup burst into pieces.

But I couldn't hear it. Something else had cracked, and it wasn't the cup. A piece of the puzzle had been solved; a memory unsealed.

The birds. A whisper. A call.

A request for permission.

It was one I’d accepted.

My hands cradled around my head, shaking uncontrollably.

No. No! NO! W-what had I done? Was I a goddamn idiot? Why would I—

My thoughts were interrupted by the clearing of a throat. Oh, I knew the bastard was grinning, even before I raised my head.

And he damned was.

“So, were you forced here, or not? Tell me the truth, hero.”

“I-I . . . ” My teeth clenched.

“That answers that, then.” He harrumphed, turning away. 

“B-but I didn’t know then! I wasn’t told anything!”

“I-I didn’t know.” I lowered my head back onto the table, tears pooling into dark-spots on the light-oak-colored wood.

He sighed.

“You kids really do love going off to worlds randomly, without even sparing another thought.”

His words stung deep. I bit my lip, my voice cracking when I tried to speak.

"I-I—"

“But," He said, voice softening. "It’s not entirely your fault, either. You are right.”

His usual chuckle filled the room.

“I think if any of you had been told the full details, then we wouldn’t have a single hero here in the first place. Maybe a few lunatics, though.”

I couldn’t stop myself from letting out a laugh. I wiped the tears from my wet face, slowly lifting my head.

When he saw my face, he smiled. A second later, he gave me an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry if . . . if I was a bit hostile. I just didn’t want to hear you speak about being a hero as if it was,” he paused, looking away. “As if it was something you were forced to do. Forced to be.”

I suddenly recalled what he'd said earlier. That he'd been too late, again. And when I noticed his misty eyes, I knew I wasn’t wrong. I knew that he was thinking of someone else, in another time, another place.

He blinked, turning to me again. This time, his eyes were somber. Grim. 

“Being a hero . . . is a dangerous task. It doesn’t come without risks. But it is a valiant duty. A noble sacrifice. One that I will never let anyone desecrate."

“Was there someone,” I said, gulping. I knew I had to choose my next words carefully. “Someone before me?”

Another chuckle.

“There were a lot before you, kid. Most of 'em are still here.”

“But there was someone, wasn’t there?”

He stopped smiling. My words had hit the mark, right in the center.

Bullseye.