I ran toward the guards, waving my arms—but not too fast. I needed the slimes to keep pace; otherwise, my entire reason for entering the settlement would vanish.

  From this distance, I got a good look at the gatekeepers.

  One was tall and thick-built—a human oak trunk, but without leaves or branches on top. His spear looked absurdly thin in his grip. He’d have looked far more natural with a massive double-bladed axe slung over his shoulder.

  The other guard was small—clearly young, maybe thirteen or fifteen years old.

  They put children on duty at such an important post?

  Honestly, that worked in my favor. The younger they are, the easier they are to fool.

  Finally, I closed to within twenty paces.

  I stopped and began gesturing wildly—pointing at the slimes behind me, miming distress, doing everything I could to signal for help.

  I also repeatedly touched my throat and waved my hand, trying to convey that I couldn’t speak.

  At first, they were clearly reluctant—but the swelling tide of slimes behind me changed their minds.

  Together, they cracked open the tall double doors just wide enough for one person to slip through.

  As soon as I was inside, they slammed the gates shut and bolted them from within.

  The younger guard peered through a small window in the gate, watching the slimes outside.

  The big one leveled his spear at me and waited.

  I stood perfectly still, afraid to provoke him, occasionally shifting my chest, shoulders, and ribs—mimicking the rise and fall of breathing.

  Finally, the younger guard closed the peephole and turned to me with a sharp, serious voice that didn’t match his boyish face:

  — “Who are you? Where are you from? Show your face.”

  — I’m completely harmless, I wanted to say—but of course, I couldn’t.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Instead, I sliced my palm across my throat again and crossed my arms, trying to signal my muteness.

  Now and then, I dragged my fingers like claws across the scarf covering my face.

  — “A beast attacked you,” the big guard suddenly rumbled, “you lost your voice, and now you’re too hideous to show your face to others—is that it?”

  Both the boy and I turned to look at him.

  A few seconds of silence passed. Then the young guard asked me:

  — “Is that true?”

  I nodded vigorously, holding his skeptical gaze.

  — “Then why were the rinki chasing you?” he pressed.

  Ah—so they call slimes “rinki” here. Good to know.

  I lifted my foot and mimed stepping on something, then recoiling in fear and running away.

  My pantomime only deepened the suspicion in his grey eyes.

  — “Maybe he accidentally stepped on a young one,” the big guard offered again, voice echoing like distant thunder, “and the rest swarmed him—so he ran straight down the road to us.”

  His interpretations were impressively convenient for me.

  — “Fine,” the young guard sighed. “But where are you from? And why are you in this area? You do realize this is Baron Groul’s territory?”

  Baron’s territory—oh. Better be extra careful with my gestures from now on.

  I tapped my head, then mimed a blow to the skull.

  After that, I gestured as if lost, wandering aimlessly wherever my feet took me.

  After a full minute of my terrible one-man mime show, all three of us—me, the boy, and the giant—turned slowly to look at the big guard again.

  — “Uh…” he began, hesitating just slightly, then launched into it:

  — “You were a traveler—or maybe a merchant—but after a sudden attack, you lost your memory and everything you owned. Now you wander alone, not knowing where you are, just trying to survive in this dangerous world. Misfortune follows you at every step. Each day, fate throws worse and more terrifying trials your way—but you, a man of unbreakable will, refuse to give up. You’re determined to find your happiness, so that even the gods might behold how brave and courageous your heart truly is.”

  His dramatic monologue nearly made my jaw drop clean off my skull.

  The young guard turned to me, eyes wide with disbelief:

  — “Is… that true?”

  I gave a few vague, tempo-less nods.

  Sometimes, it really is best to let people imagine the whole story themselves.