The workday finally came to an end, and my face was layered with dust and exhaustion.
But as I began walking down the street, I noticed people around me dressed in clean, stylish clothes.
In that moment, I felt like a gray blotch on a vividly colored painting.
"I guess it's time I bought new clothes... for the first time since I arrived in this world."
I started scanning the area for a suitable shop.
The problem was, I didn't know the streets well, and every store I saw looked like it catered exclusively to nobles.
But then... something caught my eye.
A large, faded sign with slanted letters read:
"Thrift Clothes – Your Style, at a Comfortable Price."
I stopped, stared at the name for a moment, then let out a soft laugh.
"As long as the word 'thrift' is in the name, there's a good chance I'll walk out of there with more than one shirt... and without going bankrupt."
I stepped inside, greeted by the mixed scent of cheap perfume and old fabric.
The place wasn't fancy—it felt more like a cramped storage room, with clothes piled on shelves and stuffed into metal bins.
Behind the counter sat a middle-aged man, patiently reading a paper newspaper.
He looked up at me, offered a quick smile, then returned to his reading without saying a word.
I wandered between the shelves, searching for something that wouldn't embarrass me in public—or bankrupt my wallet.
A simple blue shirt, sturdy gray pants, and a light jacket... That was my humble selection.
I tried them on in a tiny changing room closed off by a curtain that barely stayed shut.
When I looked at myself in the mirror, I didn't look amazing—but at least I didn't look homeless anymore.
"Hah... noticeable progress," I muttered, adjusting the collar of the shirt.
I walked up to the counter, expecting to haggle with all the bargaining skills I didn't have.
But the man looked up at the clothes, then simply said:
"That'll be nine dollars."
I froze, then blinked twice.
"Is that... real?"
He smiled and replied, "Here, thrift isn't just a name."
I handed over the money, feeling a small but satisfying victory. Then I left the store, carrying a plain bag that held my first real step toward blending into this new world.
Maybe I was still lost, and maybe I had nothing but a little money and a few clothes...
But at the very least, I now looked like someone who belonged here.
And maybe—just maybe—for the first time since arriving, I felt like I had treated myself, even just a little.
It was a small feeling... but a precious one.
As I carried the bag lightly in my hand, I headed toward the inn, eager to try on my new outfit.
I entered quickly, climbed the old stairs, and opened the door to my room, feeling like I was about to walk into a private fashion show—starring me.
But before changing, I thought I'd take one last look at myself in the mirror.
And the moment I took off my old shirt... I smelled something.
Something foul.
I froze.
I looked around, then down at my clothes... then at myself.
The smell... was coming from me!
A wave of embarrassment washed over me.
Had I smelled like this the entire time?!
Had people been tolerating my stench since I arrived in this world?
How did I forget to shower?!
Maybe the exhaustion, hunger, and constant distractions made me forget one of my most basic human rights.
Nervously, I went downstairs and found the innkeeper busy stirring something on the stove.
"Excuse me... Can I use the shower? I mean, the old one... upstairs?"
She looked up, blinked, and simply said:
"Of course. You paid for the night after all."
I smiled, took a deep breath, and felt like a mountain had been lifted off my shoulders.
It was finally time to shower.