"I... really entered another world."

  That mumble slipped out as my small leather boots stepped onto the rough stone road.

  At the entrance gate earlier, there had been a large warning board written in gothic letters:

  ATTENTION:

  SECTOR 2 IS A FULL IMMERSIVE ZONE.

  MODERN ELECTRONIC DEVICES STRICTLY PROHIBITED.

  VIOLATIONS WILL BE SUBJECT TO FINES AND PERMANENT EXPULSION.

  Mom snorted when she read it. "They're so serious."

  "Not really," Dad answered while checking his coat pockets to make sure nothing was left behind.

  I caught sight of a tourist near us trying to pull out their phone for a photo. Before their camera could even light up, two uniformed guards appeared out of nowhere.

  "Sorry, Sir. Devices must be stored."

  Their voices were polite, but their eyes weren't. That tourist immediately put their phone back, hands shaking slightly.

  Mom glanced at me, then smiled thinly. "Sera, see that? Don't try any funny business here."

  I nodded obediently. "I'm not naughty."

  My eyes followed Mom's gaze. Before me stretched a wide market: no neon lights, no screens, no machine hum.

  The air here felt thick. There was the scent of yeast from freshly baked bread, the sharp smell of metal from a blacksmith's workshop, and billowing smoke from furnaces filling the alleys.

  "Hey, welcome!" a merchant called out from behind his wooden stall. "Sir Knight, graceful Lady, and... wow, such a pretty little princess."

  I reflexively touched the delicate bangs covering my forehead.

  Pretty? Me?

  Wait, how should I react to this?

  Mom and Dad say it often, so I should be immune by now. But somehow, hearing it from this bread merchant feels more... embarrassing.

  What should I do now? Smile? Say thank you? Or pretend to be shy like normal kids?

  Ugh, there's no guide for situations like this.

  I finally just nodded slightly, then quickly looked away.

  He wore a shabby leather vest and a crooked cloth cap. His hands nimbly offered a basket of wheat bread whose surface was still steaming.

  The bread looked irregular and roughly textured, but the aroma... incredibly tempting.

  I'm a bit hungry, but I quickly shook my head. I don't want to become a barrel at this young age.

  "Dad, he called you a knight," I whispered while tugging the edge of his fur coat.

  Dad immediately puffed out his chest, his hand reflexively gripping the sword hilt at his waist, which of course was just a dull prop.

  He glanced at me, then smiled crookedly. "Well, obviously," he said. "If not Papa, who else?"

  I rolled my eyes silently.

  Mom just chuckled, walking gracefully as if she'd already grown used to her sapphire robe, heavy with its intricate silver embroidery.

  "Come on, we need to exchange some replica coins. In this area, they don't accept digital payment cards directly."

  We stopped at a small stall guarded by an old man with a long white braided beard. He looked very convincing as an 'NPC Coin Exchanger.'

  On his table, rows of copper and silver coins with crossed sword emblems lined up neatly.

  "Twenty thousand Ris for one bag of bronze coins," the old man said in an artificially hoarse voice.

  I grimaced. Twenty thousand more? This place really is...

  "Ten thousand," Mom's voice cut in, flat and clear.

  We all turned.

  Mom stood with perfect posture, her sapphire robe shimmering faintly.

  "The bulletin board at the entrance gate clearly stated the official exchange rate is one to one. Don't try to raise prices just because we look like new tourists."

  Mom smiled sweetly.

  The old man coughed. "W-wait, M-Madam... this is a premium area—"

  "Premium area with the same view and the same dirt floor," Mom finished his sentence, her thin smile not reaching her eyes. "Ten thousand. Or we'll go elsewhere. The walk takes just a few steps."

  "Honey, you're so cool," Dad whispered, briefly embracing Mom's waist.

  I looked at Mom with a slightly complicated gaze. So that's how it is...

  Transaction complete.

  "Thank you for your cooperation," Mom said, emphasizing the last word while accepting the coin bag that felt heavy in her hands.

  Dad received the bag, opened it slightly, then took out one copper coin.

  "Take this for your coffee, Old Man," Dad said, flicking his first coin toward the old man with a very mocking flourish, as if he really was a nobleman giving charity.

  After getting the coin bag, we started exploring the crowds.

  The deeper we went, the denser the road became. People's shoulders rubbed together, the sound of conversations and merchant shouts merging into one suffocating noise.

  I gripped Dad's hand tighter.

  "Sera, you okay?" Dad glanced down.

  "Yeah..." I answered quietly. But actually, not really.

  This tiny body doesn't have the same field of vision. What I see is only adult waists, moving robe fabric, and occasionally feet that almost step on me.

  The world feels too big for me. Too crowded.

  Suddenly, someone bumped my shoulder from behind.

  I stumbled.

  And for a moment, Dad's hand slipped away.

  My heart immediately pounded hard. Panic surged.

  "Dad!"

  Before I could scream louder, that big hand already grabbed mine again. Tight.

  Dad crouched to my level, his hands holding both my shoulders.

  "Papa's here, Sweetheart. Not going anywhere." His voice was calm, but his eyes were serious. "Hold tight, okay? Don't let go."

  I nodded quickly, squeezing his hand firmly. firmer than I should.

  Why does my chest feel so tight?

  In my previous life, I was used to being alone in crowds. Used to not depending on anyone. But now... losing grip for just three seconds already made me want to cry.

  This isn't just acting.

  This body... this little child's body... is really scared of being separated from its parents.

  "Come on, let's hold Mama's hand too, just to be safe." Mom extended her hand from the left side.

  I reached for it without hesitation.

  Now I'm walking between the two of them, flanked by a warmth that's foreign but... calming.

  Maybe... this isn't entirely bad.

  Together, we started navigating the noisy crowds.

  At every corner, there were street performances: a harp player singing about the hero's bravery against Leviathan, while at another stall, kids my age, or at least whose bodies are my age, crowded around a booth titled "Become a Knight and Defeat the Dragon."

  "Sera! Look at that!" Dad crouched, pointing at the stall with sparkling eyes. "Want to try being a knight?"

  I looked at Dad for a moment, then threw a reluctant glance toward the booth.

  There, an actor in city guard uniform was challenging small children to slash a small dragon-shaped straw dummy with wooden swords. The prize was honey cake and a toy sword.

  "Come on, Sera! Papa wants to see Papa's little knight in action!" Dad shouted excitedly, his hands waving toward the crowd as if he was calling war reinforcements.

  I stared flatly at the straw dummy in front of the stall.

  Seriously?

  I have to hit a pile of dry grass in public for a piece of cake?

  I was just about to turn around and pretend to be sleepy, but a gentle hand landed on my shoulder. It's Mom. She knelt so our faces were level, smiling with eye sparkles that seemed able to read my mind.

  "Sera," Mom whispered, her voice tender but carrying pressure that's hard to refuse. Her eyes glanced at Dad, who was radiating excitement. "Your father has been telling everyone about his little knight since earlier."

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  "But Ma—"

  "Sera's a good child, right?" Mom added with a sweet smile that left me no room to argue.

  I glanced at Dad, who was showing off to the tourist next to him. Ugh.

  Mom really knows how to use guilt as a weapon.

  I sighed in resignation. "Yes, Ma..."

  "Besides," Mom added while tidying my bangs, "the honey cake at that stall supposedly uses natural forest honey that's only available this season. Such a shame if it just becomes decoration."

  Checkmate.

  Mom attacked from two sides: empathy and appetite. A normal kid would've run over already... but I'm just "pretending" to be a kid.

  But whatever.

  Like it or not, I stepped forward. I handed my dolphin plushie to Mom, who accepted it with a restrained smile.

  The armored guard crouched in front of me, handing over a wooden sword that felt slightly heavier than I expected.

  "Young knight from the North," the guard said in a serious, dramatic tone. "This dragon has stolen honey cake from the village. Do you have the courage to take it back?"

  I let out a long sigh. Just do it. Doesn't reincarnation give a second chance to try new things?

  However, before I stepped forward, I turned to Dad.

  "Dad," I called, maximizing my acting.

  "Yes, Sera? Destroy the dragon!"

  "Um..." I twisted the edge of my dress. "If this dragon stole because he was hungry... is he still bad?" I asked with eyes made as innocent as possible. "Why don't we just share the cake instead of hitting him with wood?"

  Dad's cheering stopped instantly. He and the guard exchanged confused glances.

  They opened their mouths, about to say "Because those are the game rules," but the sentence caught in their throats. Dad stared at the straw dummy, then at me, then looked like he was thinking hard as if facing a moral philosophy exam.

  "Uh... that... this is the first time anyone's asked that, Miss." The guard looked at my dad as if saying *say something*.

  "That's... uh... because..." Dad scratched his head that wasn't itchy, his face suddenly serious and confused. "Maybe the dragon doesn't want to share?"

  "But we haven't asked, Dad. What if he just never learned to share?" I countered briefly.

  The guard in front of me also fell silent, suddenly feeling guilty about a straw dummy. I sighed, feeling a bit sorry seeing Dad start questioning his life principles.

  Using adult logic to ruin children's games turned out to be quite entertaining.

  I felt like a high-class actor trapped in an amateur play, it was a bit mean, yes, but fun... Heh, I should do this more often in the future.

  I immediately turned toward the dragon dummy before the atmosphere got more awkward.

  "But whatever. This dragon stole cake, right? Stealing isn't something good people do... and I'm hungry too," I said briefly, trying to cover my nervousness with childish reasoning.

  I stared sharply at that dragon dummy.

  When my fingers gripped the wooden sword handle, a familiar cold sensation started creeping up to my nape. The noisy market atmosphere suddenly went silent, as if someone just pressed the mute button on the world.

  Immersion.

  Time slowed down.

  I could see dust particles dancing in the air and every straw fiber on the dummy in front of me.

  My eyes no longer saw a toy. I seemed to 'see' an imaginary line connecting the tip of my sword to the weakest point at the dragon's neck joint, the point where the straw weight was most unstable.

  Without thinking twice, I let that instinct guide my waist to rotate.

  WHACK!

  That impact sound shattered Immersion's silence like breaking glass.

  The world spun back at normal speed, bringing back the noise of tourists who instantly gasped.

  That wasn't luck. That was terrifying precision.

  A strange jolt rose from the sword handle to my arm, a vibration indicating my attack was clean and solid. My fingers reflexively loosened, trembling slightly from an adrenaline surge too big for a body this small.

  The straw dummy swayed far harder than it should, its head hanging broken before finally being held by the support rope.

  I stared at my own reddened palm. That earlier... felt very satisfying.

  Like finding a missing piece of myself.

  "Wow... a very... disciplined movement," the guard mumbled. He was silent for a few seconds, breaking character because he was genuinely shocked seeing a toddler perform such a perfect swing. "Ahem! I mean, the dragon has been defeated! Accept this reward, Little Knight!"

  Tourists around started applauding, but I could feel a different atmosphere behind me.

  I turned slowly. Dad was cheering excitedly, incredibly proud, but Mom...

  Mom stood still.

  She wasn't clapping. Her eyes narrowed, looking at me not with adoration, but with a sharp, investigating gaze. She's watching me!

  I'm in trouble. I got too carried away.

  I immediately lowered that wooden sword. The throbbing heat in my temple made me slightly dizzy.

  It's time to act.

  I just dropped the sword, then raised both hands toward Mom with eyes deliberately made teary.

  "Ma... my hands are tingling," I whined, my voice deliberately hoarse, typical of a tired toddler.

  "See, I told you. Don't force a small child's strength," Mom scolded, but her tone was full of relief. She gently rubbed my hands, trying to soothe the remaining vibration.

  Dad approached, his eyes sparkling. "But that slash was crazy, Honey! She really hit the neck joint! Exactly like..." Dad hung his sentence, glancing at Mom briefly, then cleared his throat. "Papa means, exactly like a great knight in storybooks!"

  I accepted the prize box containing honey cake from the guard, who still looked confused. As soon as the lid opened, the sweet aroma of forest honey wafted out.

  "Cake!" I exclaimed, trying to completely divert attention.

  I stuffed a big piece into my mouth, letting that sweet taste calm my overheated brain nerves.

  While chewing, I let my head rest on Dad's shoulder as he was carrying me now. Behind this "satisfied from food" face, my mind was reassembling everything.

  I was wrong all this time.

  Immersion isn't a fortune-telling ability. Not luck either, and clearly not a mystical voice whispering the future.

  That slash earlier was proof. When Immersion's active, I don't 'see' what will happen. I see what *is*.

  If my guess is correct, Immersion is a combat talent. It allows me to see 'cracks' in an opponent's defense before the opponent themselves realizes it.

  No wonder I failed to predict rain in the past. Weather variables are too broad to process. Immersion isn't a 'mystical science' that penetrates space and time.

  It only works on what my senses can capture. If I can see it, I can find its weakness.

  If this ability of mine is what they call a Talent, then I just activated a danger radar in public.

  Damn. This Immersion is too tempting to use, but too dangerous to show off.

  If I can see weaknesses in a straw dummy, can I also see weaknesses in those guards' silver armor?

  Imagining being able to defeat enemies in one strike makes me excited.

  The throbbing in my temple started again. Hot, like a processor forced to run software that's too heavy. This four-year-old body is my main limiter. Forcing Immersion use is the same as burning my own brain from the inside.

  However, that satisfaction only lasted momentarily.

  In a dark corner of the alley, among the crowd of laughing tourists, I suddenly felt a gaze that made me shiver.

  I looked back.

  In that shadowed corner, a man in a dull gray robe stood still. His face was covered by a hood, but I could feel his sharp and cold gaze directed at me.

  He didn't look like an NPC playing a role.

  "Sera? Why are you just standing there? Dad called you several times." Dad embraced my shoulder, breaking my eye contact with that robed man.

  When I turned back to that alley corner, the man was already gone.

  Gone just like that in the middle of the crowd, as if he was just smoke blown by wind.

  "Sera not feeling well?" Mom asked, holding my cheek.

  "No..." I lied.

  I kept chewing the cake. That must just be my imagination... This place is heavily guarded and Dad's beside me. So no need to worry.

  "Dad, open your mouth! Aaa~" I broke off a big piece of honey cake and held it right in front of Dad's nose.

  "Eh? For Papa?" Dad's eyes immediately sparkled. He grabbed that cake with the spirit of a starving knight. "Woaah, so sweet! Sera really is Papa's most understanding princess!"

  Seeing my dad's never-ending smile, that anxiety finally dissolved in the endless commotion.

  Time seemed to lose its meaning in this enclave frozen in history.

  Day Two - Afternoon

  I just realized this crowd isn't a daily sight. Turns out, this is a big annual festival only held once a year to celebrate the city's history. Initially, I thought we'd only spend a few hours here, but it turns out Mom and Dad already planned a full three-day visit!

  "Sera, try again! Just three more rings! You can do it!"

  I stared at the pile of wooden rings in my hand with an empty gaze. This is ring number... what? Twenty? Thirty?

  I've already forgotten. What's clear is, the money Dad spent buying these rings has far exceeded the price of any prize at this stall.

  "Dad... tired..." I mumbled quietly.

  "Come on, Sweetheart. Just one more time. Papa's sure this time it'll definitely go in!"

  Papa's been saying that since the tenth ring.

  I sighed, then threw that wooden ring half-heartedly.

  Missed. Again.

  That stall merchant, a pot-bellied man with a thick mustache, looked at me with an expression that was... pitiful? Or maybe he felt guilty for draining Dad's wallet?

  "Oh dear, little one, it's hard, huh?" he said while scratching his head. "How about I move the bottle a bit forward? So it's closer."

  "Eh, no need, Sir! That's cheating!" Dad protested, which, honestly was already disproportionate to the situation.

  "It's fine, Sir. Besides... your money is already enough to buy four fox masks." The merchant laughed awkwardly while moving the glass bottle closer to the throwing line.

  Mom, who'd been sitting on the bench beside us, could only sigh deeply. "Dad, this is excessive. Let's go home."

  "Just a sec, honey! Sera's almost got it!"

  Almost from where, though?

  But I saw Dad's sparkling eyes, still full of hope even though it's obvious this is a game designed to drain the wallets of gullible tourists like us.

  I stared at the last ring in my hand. Then at the bottle that's now almost half the distance from before.

  Well, whatever.

  I can't give up this quickly.

  I lifted the ring, took a breath, not from focus, but from exhaustion, then threw it with what strength remained.

  CLINK!

  The wooden ring flew... and, whether from luck or because the bottle was indeed too close, it landed right on the bottle's neck.

  Brief silence.

  Then Dad exploded. "YEAAAHHH!"

  He immediately lifted me from the ground and then hugged me tight.

  "Papa's child is amazing! Look at that! Finally went in!"

  "Dad... it's just a bottle..." I whispered, half-laughing, half-embarrassed because several people around us started glancing.

  Dad didn't answer right away.

  He lowered me slowly to the ground, then patted my head once, gentler than before.

  "It is just a bottle," he finally said.

  I nodded, feeling that conversation was over.

  "But Sera almost stopped earlier, right?"

  I fell silent... What does he mean?

  Dad smiled slightly, no longer loud like before.

  "Sometimes what matters isn't the prize." He pointed at the ring still hanging on the bottle's neck. "What matters is you kept throwing again even though you kept failing."

  Evening wind passed through the festival commotion. People's voices felt farther somehow.

  "Life will often be like that too."

  I didn't answer right away.

  Dad didn't say anything more. He just patted my head once, then went back to being busy bargaining for food at the stall next door, as if that conversation earlier was just a small thing.

  The festival commotion surrounded us again.

  I walked beside Dad, the fox mask still perched askew on my head. My hand occasionally held it so it wouldn't fall.

  The sky started turning dark.

  I don't remember when I fell asleep. Suddenly I was already on Dad's back, his steps slow and stable beneath me.

  That fox mask still stuck to my head until we arrived at the inn.

  Day Three - Morning

  The last day of the festival began with Dad insisting we must "complete the mission" of visiting all iconic spots before going home.

  "We haven't taken a photo in front of the hero statue!" he exclaimed while pulling Mom's sleeve while she was still busy folding blankets in the inn room.

  "That's just a statue. We've passed it many times," Mom answered without lifting her head.

  "But haven't taken a photo! Photos are important, Honey! This is a memento!"

  Mom looked at me with an expression that said 'please stop your father'. I could only shrug. Once it's like this, nothing can stop Dad.

  Finally, we stood in front of that statue of a robed man with two swords.

  Dad arranged our positions like a film director: Mom on the left, me in the middle, him on the right, while asking a random tourist to photograph us with a rented analog mechanical camera. A camera that still complied with anti-technology rules in this zone.

  "Smile! Three... two... one!"

  Click.

  That afternoon, Dad took us to watch a fake gladiator show in a small sand arena built at the market's edge.

  I thought this would be boring, considering it's just cheap acting with wooden swords; however, it turned out Dad was more entertaining than the show itself.

  "FORWARD! ATTACK FROM THE LEFT!" he shouted toward a "knight" who was clearly confused about how to act.

  "Honey, lower your voice a bit," Mom whispered while pulling Dad's sleeve. "People are staring."

  "Let them! This is an arena! Gotta be spirited!" Dad kept shouting, even stood up while raising his fist when "his knight" won.

  I could only bow my head in embarrassment behind the fox mask I was still wearing.

  Why can Dad be this enthusiastic about things that are clearly fake?

  But when I glanced at his face, eyes sparkling and I understood.

  Dad doesn't care whether this is real or not.

  He just wants us to have fun.

  Together.

  After the show ended, we visited the "House of God," a small building with stone walls and a heavy wooden door guarded by two uniformed guards.

  Inside, the room was dark. There were only a few dim blue lights illuminating the gold-painted statue in the center of the room. A "priest" in a long white robe stood in front of the altar, explaining ancient rituals in a low and solemn voice.

  "...and to honor the Sky God, we must wave the cloth three times toward the east, as a symbol of sacrifice and loyalty..."

  I stared at that priest with a flat expression.

  Wave cloth three times? Seriously?

  Mom seemed to notice my confusion. She pulled out a piece of apple from her bag, then fed me without speaking.

  I chewed while nodding, pretending to understand, when actually my mind had already wandered everywhere.

  "Does Sera understand what he's saying?" Dad whispered while bending toward me.

  "No," I answered honestly while still chewing.

  Dad laughed quietly, then also nodded, pretending to seriously follow the priest's explanation.

  I held back laughter, then also nodded, though still not really understanding what was being explained.

  That dim blue light swayed gently, blown by wind from the door that occasionally opened. The priest's voice kept flowing behind us, mixed with the steps of visitors coming and going.