The Gate Traveler-Chapter 13B5 - : A Glitch in the Matrix

As the sun dipped lower, painting the sky with streaks of orange and purple, more travelers began pulling off to the sides of the road. They lit fires, spread straw mats, let their oxen graze, and set up sleeping spaces beneath their carts. The smell of smoke and the faint murmur of voices filled the air.

"Let's head up the hills and find a spot to set the house," I said, pointing at the slope ahead and looking at the growing line of roadside campsites.

Al frowned. “The closest village is less than an hour away. I prefer to look for an inn instead of trudging through hills and bushes.”

“I’m with Al,” Mahya said.

We arrived at the next village after sunset, with the moon already high in the sky. It looked much like the first village we passed—narrow cobblestone streets and Asian-style houses—but it felt more magical in the dark. The red lanterns were lit, casting a warm glow over the cobblestones. Their light reflected off the uneven stones, giving the street a soft, flickering atmosphere. Shadows stretched along the walls of the wooden houses, their curved rooftops faintly outlined against the dark sky.

The streets were mostly empty, with only a few people in sight. They disappeared through doorways the moment they noticed us. A few windows glowed softly behind closed shutters. Dreamcatchers hanging near doorways swayed gently in the breeze, their shadows shifting across the walls. A thin mist hugged the ground, blurring the edges of everything. The air carried a smoky scent and a faint hint of something herbal, possibly incense.

A third person darted into a doorway the moment they spotted us. I let out an annoyed huff. “What’s with the disappearing act?”

Al glanced around the empty street. “Maybe they are afraid of strangers?”

I gestured to the road behind us. "It doesn't make much sense. They’re on the main road.”

“You mean the only road,” Mahya said.

I shrugged. “That too.”

“Let’s check the center,” Mahya said.

We reached the center of the village and spotted an open restaurant with a handful of patrons scattered around. Mahya strode over to a group of three men eating at one of the tables and leaned in to speak with them quietly.

After a brief exchange, she waved us over and started walking down one of the side streets. “Found the inn,” she said with a quick glance back at us.

At the end of the street stood a three-story building that stood out from the rest. The other houses were all wood. They had carved panels, painted shutters, and winged rooftops, the typical features of Asian architecture. This building, in contrast, was constructed from solid gray stone, and its square shape gave it a blocky appearance.

Wooden decorations and winged roofs had been added but didn’t blend seamlessly. The ornate details seemed tacked on, creating a mix of stone walls and traditional wooden features. Red lanterns hung by the entrance, their light reflecting faintly off the smooth stone surface, while the carved beams jutted out from the walls, adding sharp angles to the otherwise boxy structure.

Inside, the inn felt more like a "western" tavern—or perhaps more accurately, a "fantasy land-ern"—than anything remotely eastern. The wooden floors were scuffed and uneven, showing the wear of countless boots and heavy furniture dragged across them over the years. Five long wooden tables were arranged in neat rows down the center of the room, with sturdy benches on both sides. The wood was rough-hewn, with visible knots and grains, giving everything a rustic, handmade look.

Against one wall stood a long bar, its surface smooth. Behind it, shelves were lined with bottles and jars of various sizes, some filled with liquids in rich amber and deep green tones, while others held dried herbs and what looked like pickled roots. A few stools, mismatched in size and shape, were scattered along the bar.

The lighting came from iron sconces on the walls and a large iron chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Each held flickering candles that bathed the room in a soft, warm glow. The faint smell of ale, wood smoke, and something savory cooking in the back filled the air.

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The innkeeper greeted us with a broad smile. That is, until his eyes landed on Rue. The smile vanished. He stumbled backward like someone had yanked a rug out from under him, smacking into the wall of bottles behind the bar. A jar wobbled precariously before giving up the fight, landing square on his head with a dull thunk, and crashing on the floor.

I winced, trying not to laugh. "You okay there?"

He stared at me with unfocused eyes, swaying slightly. I winced again and stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder to steady him before casting Healing Touch.

His eyes widened as he stammered, “Is this… is this… is this a spirit beast?” His voice trembled as he pointed a shaky finger at Rue.

“Yes, but don’t worry,” I said, patting Rue’s massive side. “He’s my bonded companion and won’t hurt you.”

The innkeeper's knees buckled, and he dropped to the floor with a loud thunk, his forehead smacking against the wooden planks. “Forgive me, mighty cultivator!” he wailed, hands pressed flat to the ground in a dramatic bow.

I sighed, exchanging a glance with Rue, who tilted his head as if wondering what all the fuss was about. “Uh, sure,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “Just… get up. You’re fine.”

Mahya approached us. “Go sit. I’ll handle it from here.” She looked down at the kneeling innkeeper. “Before he has a heart attack and can’t feed us.”

We enjoyed an excellent dinner of roasted duck served with rice and dried fruits. Throughout the meal, the innkeeper remained bent at a perfect ninety-degree bow while serving us. At least this time, he managed to avoid banging his head again.

After dinner, we headed up to the room, and it was a letdown. I wasn’t expecting the luxury we’d had in the city, but this was ridiculous. The room had three narrow wooden beds, lacquered to a nice finish and decent enough at first glance. The problem? No padding—no mattress, no straw, nothing. Just plain wooden planks, a sausage-shaped pillow at one end, and a folded blanket at the other. And, of course, there wasn’t even a hint of a bath—not to mention a pool masquerading as a bath.

Rue shuffled between two beds, nudging one against the wall with his shoulder and the other closer to the third. Once satisfied with the arrangement, he flopped onto the floor with a heavy thud. The three of us stood there, staring in speechless disbelief.

“Open your house?” Mahya asked me.

I shot her a look, eyebrows climbing. "In the room?"

"Why not? You opened it in a dungeon against the wall. What’s the difference?"

I opened my mouth to respond, then closed it. I had nothing.

I looked into my Storage to get the core, and my eyes landed on the bodies I had in there. A thought flickered: I really need to deal with this. Then I froze, surprised.

"Guys, I think I found a glitch in the Matrix," I said.

Al shot me a confused look, while Mahya frowned. "What are you talking about?”

Rue jumped, looking around. "Where Black Cat?"

At least someone partially got the reference. That was something.

“Remember when Manager Sho said that the contents of a storage pouch get destroyed if someone unauthorized tries to open it?” I asked, glancing between them.

They nodded, and Mahya made an impatient waving motion, like “get to the point.”

“Well, we collected twelve pouches from the various attackers, and when I look into my Storage, I can see what’s in them.”

“Try to take it out,” Mahya said.

I concentrated on one pouch, and a bizarre mix of items materialized. A mountain of luxurious silk robes, each more extravagant than the last and embroidered with golden threads, spilled alongside stacks of bundled scrolls, their edges gilded and tied with ornate ribbons. Expensive, intricately carved jade pendants and rings mingled with a collection of fragrant herbs—bundles of dried leaves, seeds in golden jars, and several pouches of powdered substances.

A lacquered box clattered to the floor, its compartments filled with pills of varying sizes and colors, while weapons jumbled together—a gleaming sword inlaid with runes, a pair of daggers with emerald-encrusted handles, three spears—from simple to ornate, and a delicate fan radiating a faint magical aura. A polished tea set appeared amidst the chaos, its porcelain painted with intricate landscapes, joined by crystal bottles of fine wine.

There were random trinkets piled on top: an ornately decorated hand mirror, a set of jeweled hairpins, several bags of gold and silver coins, and a miniature phoenix statue made of amber. Between all the items were various food items, from cheese to dried meat and fruits.

The chaotic assortment of treasures, luxuries, and oddities completely overwhelmed the small space. Silk robes and herbs draped over the beds, while weapons, trinkets, and alchemical supplies formed haphazard piles on the floor.

“I love your Matrix,” Mahya said, her grin widening.

Al quietly snagged the herbs and pills, not bothering with words.

I continued emptying the rest of the pouches the same way, watching as Mahya’s grin stretched wider with each new pile of treasure. Al’s smile was more restrained, but the speed at which he snatched up anything remotely alchemical left no doubt he was in his version of heaven. Meanwhile, Rue claimed all the edible items, nosing through them with great focus and declaring, “Rue need check it safe.”

After emptying all the pouches, I opened my house against a wall, and it worked flawlessly. I let the core consume all the bodies—I wasn’t about to keep carrying them around in my Storage. To enlighten the uninitiated, we watched the first Matrix movie.

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At least next time, they’d understand the reference.