The evening air was crisp, carrying the lingering scent of rain as Katharina walked down the familiar sidewalk, her phone clutched in one hand. It had been a long day, and exhaustion pressed heavily on her shoulders. The rhythmic sound of her footsteps against the pavement was almost soothing, a steady beat grounding her in the mundanity of her routine.

  She was walking home on a busy street, and everyone else was also on their way to a destination. With her phone in hand, she was typing away. They had had a small spat, her boyfriend and her, and she wanted to let him know she was coming over.

  As Katharina sidestepped a chubby man who had stopped in his tracks, her toe caught the uneven edge of a loose tile, and she stumbled forward. The world tilted as she lost her grip on her phone, watching helplessly as it slipped from her fingers. It skidded ahead of her, but instead of stopping on concrete, it slid across something rough and uneven.

  Barely avoiding a faceplant into the sidewalk, Katharina quickly reached for the phone, desperate to see that it wasn't broken. But that's when she noticed.

  Cobblestone.

  Katharina had barely registered the cool, jagged texture beneath her palms as she had caught herself on the ground. Confused, she blinked, her breaths short and sporadic. Gone were the smooth sidewalks and streetlights of her city. In their place were narrow, winding roads of cobbled stone, flanked by rustic medieval buildings with wooden beams and thatched roofs. The smell of the air had changed; no longer crisp, it was now earthy, spiced, and unfamiliar.

  Something's not right.

  A panic swelled in her chest as she realized she was all alone in the unfamiliar street. She grabbed her phone, frantically pressing the power button. Still working. Relief was fleeting as she quickly dialed her mother’s number. No signal. She tried again, this time dialing her boyfriend. Nothing. With sweaty palms, she typed in emergency services, 112.

  But there was nothing. No service. No way to reach anyone.

  What the hell is going on? Am I dreaming? Did I hit my head?

  A shiver ran down her spine as she rose to her feet, hesitant, cautious. The street around her was eerily quiet, but in the distance, she heard voices, laughter, and the faint hum of music. Her heart pounded. She had no idea where she was, but standing still wouldn’t help her figure it out.

  She walked. Then walked faster. Then jogged, her breath quickening as the voices ahead grew louder. Turning a corner, she was met with an explosion of light and sound.

  A market stretched before her, colorful lanterns swaying overhead, casting a warm glow against the twilight sky. The air buzzed with energy, vendors shouting, people haggling, the aroma of grilled meats and spiced drinks filling her nose. The scene of a medieval-looking market was surreal to Katharina's modern eyes, almost beautiful, if not for the overwhelming strangeness of it all.

  What kind of Renaissance fair fever dream did I just walk into?

  Katharina’s gaze scanned quickly across the crowd. The people looked mostly European, yet the language they spoke was unlike anything she had ever heard.

  "木 ???? 木 ???, ??° ????!"

  "Ω?? °??? ?χ? ????? ??∞???, λ??? 8 ???!"

  It had a humming fluidity that blended the tones, completely foreign to her ears. She felt a rush of unease, as though she had landed in a place far from home.

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  She barely had time to process before a sudden shove sent her stumbling forward. A group of children, laughing and chasing one another, barreled past her, nearly leading to another faceplant. She caught herself just in time, but her sudden entrance into the market had drawn attention. Vendors turned their heads, eyes lighting up with interest.

  A flood of foreign voices surrounded her. Merchants held out trinkets, jewelry, fabrics, and food, their hands gesturing enthusiastically. An elderly woman tugged on her sleeve, speaking rapidly, her wrinkled face hopeful. A man waved a steaming skewer of meat under her nose, chattering in that same unrecognizable tongue.

  Oh god. This is like an endless tourist trap. So many people. What do I do?

  Katharina shook her head, taking a step back. “No, thank you, I don't want to buy anything,” her voice was stammering but firm, but it got lost in the chaos. The more she tried to retreat, the deeper she was pulled into the throng of people. Panic clawed at her chest as she lost track of where she was being led.

  Then, a warm hand took hers.

  Startled, she turned to see a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and weathered skin. The woman said something in her foreign language,

  "??? °?? χ??? ? ∞??χ? Ω??χ?

  χ?? ?? ??χψ °??."

  Her voice was softer than the others, reassuring. She gestured toward a small wooden stall, guiding Katharina toward an empty chair.

  Grateful for the reprieve, Katharina let herself be led, sinking onto the seat as her pulse steadied. The woman, clearly a vendor herself, crouched beside her, studying her face with curiosity. She didn't seem to know any English, but with a series of gestures, she made her intentions clear: she seemed to be offering Katharina a place to rest for the night.

  This woman seems nice.

  Should I trust her?

  I'm not really sure, but… what else can I do?

  Katharina hesitated. But being left out on these streets as night grew darker seemed like the worse option.

  Nodding slowly, she watched as the woman smiled and called out to a man, her husband, it seemed, who was busy packing up the stall. The man trotted over, and as he came over, his gaze rested with furrowed brows on Katharina.

  "????? ?????"

  Even if she couldn't understand the words, Katharina knew that what the man had said was words of disapproval; her heart sank. What do I do if they turn me away?

  "? ???∞Φ ??? ?? ? 木 ????Ω∞??"

  The woman chattered something seemingly to convince her husband.

  "??? ???? ????.."

  "? Φ∞?? ??Ω??! ?? ??? Ω??∞Ω ?? ??Φ? ? 木 ????∞?!"

  And before he could finish his answer, the woman had cut him off with her chattering voice. But whatever she had told him, his face was now lighting up, and he smiled gently toward Katharina. As the woman again offered her hand, Katharina got up. Maybe it's gonna be okay, these people seem nice at least.

  Together, they finished packing up their stall, then motioned for her to follow. As they left the market behind, Katharina cast one last glance at the lively scene, the glowing lanterns, the sea of unfamiliar faces.

  The couple led her to their modest home, a simple wooden structure nestled between larger buildings. Inside, the scent of burning wood and something vaguely ashy filled the air. The husband set out a bowl of thin, watery porridge, clearly all they could offer. It was humble, meager, but Katharina accepted it with a grateful nod, forcing a small smile as she took a bite.

  I have to keep it together. I have to think.

  She lay down that night on a simple straw mattress, the woman had lain out for her in the kitchen, which seemed to be the only room besides the couple's bedroom, staring up at the wooden beams above her. And as the house grew quiet around her, she felt the fear, the uncertainty, the sheer impossibility of what had happened filling every corner of her being, suffocating any other thought.

  “I’ll find my way tomorrow,” she whispered to herself.

  But deep down, she wasn’t sure she believed it.