The last thing Alton Lum remembered was the insistent wok hei – the smoky, charred aroma – rising from his Ah Ma's (paternal grandmother in Cantonese) char kway teow stall at Old Airport Road Food Centre. The rhythmic clanging of her spatula against the wok, a familiar symphony of his twenty-two years, was abruptly cut short by a screech of tires and a blinding flash of headlights as he crossed the road just outside the bustling hawker centre, a takeaway packet of his Ah Ma's expertly stir-fried noodles in hand. The air, usually carrying the enticing blend of hawker fare – the sweet char of barbecued meats, the fragrant spices of curries, the savory tang of seafood – was momentarily overwhelmed by the sharp scent of burning rubber.
Then, a slow, agonizing return. Not to the sterile white of a hospital room, but to a cacophony of unfamiliar sounds and smells. The air hung thick and humid, carrying the sweet fragrance of frangipani and something else… something ancient and earthy. He blinked, his eyelids heavy as lead. The ceiling above wasn’t the stark plaster of a ward, but intricately carved dark wood, depicting scenes of mythical creatures he vaguely recognized from old Chinese opera performances his Ah Ma used to drag him to. Dragons with flowing manes, phoenixes soaring through swirling clouds, and figures that looked suspiciously like the Eight Immortals.
He tried to sit up, a groan escaping his lips. His limbs felt heavy, unresponsive. The bed beneath him was firm, covered in silk the color of jade. The room was dimly lit by paper lanterns casting dancing shadows on the walls, adorned with calligraphy scrolls he couldn’t quite decipher. The scent of burning sandalwood drifted from a nearby incense burner. Almost immediately, Alton's nose began to twitch. It was a familiar sensation, a slight allergy he'd always had to strong sandalwood or incense. A ticklish feeling started in his nostrils, threatening to escalate into a full-blown itch, and he could already feel a subtle clogging sensation beginning.
A gentle rustling sound drew his attention. An elderly woman with silver hair pulled back in a neat bun entered the room. She wore a traditional samfoo of deep indigo. The word samfoo literally meant "shirt and pants" in his Cantonese family's dialect, and the style of the two-piece suit, with its mandarin collar and knotted buttons, was familiar; his Ah Ma often wore similar comfortable outfits. She carried a porcelain bowl emitting a fragrant steam. The aroma was distinctly herbal, with a hint of something sweet and nutty – ginseng chicken soup. He could recognize the distinct earthy fragrance of the ginseng, the subtle sweetness of the red dates, and the slightly tangy scent of goji berries, a comforting soup his mother often made. But this smelled richer, more potent, with an undercurrent of other herbs he couldn't quite place. He could also see a few small pieces of tender, shredded chicken floating within the clear, fragrant liquid.
“阿，你醒啦,” she said, her voice soft and melodic, with a lilt that was familiar yet somehow… older than the Chinese he was used to hearing. “休息吓，後生仔。你瞓咗好耐啦。”
(“Aa, lei seng laa,” she said. “Yau sik haa, hau sang zai. Lei fan zo hou loi laa.”)
("Ah, you're awake," she said. "Rest now, young man. You've been sleeping for a long time.")
Alton tried to speak, but his throat felt like sandpaper. He swallowed, trying to ignore the increasing itch in his nose. The woman gently helped him by propping his head up with soft, embroidered pillows. Then, carefully scooping a small amount of the fragrant soup, along with a few strands of the soft chicken, onto a porcelain spoon, she gently blew on it to cool it before bringing it to his lips. He sipped tentatively, the warm liquid easing the dryness in his throat, and managed to swallow the tender chicken without much effort. He finished only a few spoonfuls of the soup and the shredded chicken before a wave of exhaustion washed over him again.
Gathering what little strength he had, Alton croaked out in Cantonese, his voice raspy, "我… 我喺邊度？發生咩事啊？" ( "Ngo... Ngo hai bin dou? Faat sang meh si aa?") ("I… Where am I? What happened?") He looked at the elderly woman, his eyes pleading for an explanation in this bewildering place filled with the scent of incense that was already making his head feel fuzzy. Before she could answer him, Alton felt his consciousness being taken over due to his allergies and lack of vigor.
As he drifted towards unconsciousness again, he mumbled in Cantonese, just loud enough to be heard, "檀香… 敏感…" ( "Taan heung... mun gaam...") ("Sandalwood... allergy...") before his eyes fluttered shut.
The elderly woman smiled gently, placing the bowl, still mostly full, aside. She carefully adjusted the pillows behind his head to make him more comfortable again. Her brow furrowed slightly as she caught the faint words about sandalwood. She glanced towards the small incense burner in the corner of the room, its fragrant smoke still curling upwards. With a thoughtful expression, she carefully picked up the burner and carried it out of the room and down the hallway, placing it on a stone pedestal in a far corner of the open courtyard, ensuring the smoke would no longer drift into Alton's chamber. Then, she returned to Alton's bedside, her expression softening with concern.
While the darkness claimed Alton once more, his mind reeled from the strange encounter and the lingering scent of sandalwood. His sleep, however, was far from restful, filled with a bizarre experience that blurred the lines between dream and reality. He found his consciousness drifting in a liminal space with swirling colors, and a resonant, ethereal voice echoing in his mind.
[Welcome, Sleeper.]
The voice was clear, not heard through his ears but felt within his consciousness.
[You have been chosen. A nexus point. A bridge between worlds.]
Then, a screen materialized before his inner eye, stark white text on a deep blue background, reminiscent of the video games he and his friends often play.
[Status]
Name: Alton Lum (Unbound)
Level: 1
XP: 0/100
HP: 50/50
MP: 25/25
STR: 5
AGI: 7
VIT: 5
INT: 10
WIS: 8
LUK: ?
Puzzled by the ? next to the LUK stat, he questioned inwardly, wondering if it was a status glitch or the stat has not been unlocked as of yet.
The ethereal voice spoke again, with the words appearing as text on the screen simultaneously akin to English subtitles for a Japanese anime or some Chinese, Japanese or Korean drama:
[New Skill Acquired: [World Sense] (Passive) - Allows a rudimentary understanding of the energies and connections within this world.]
[A Tutorial Quest has been initiated: Observe your surroundings. Reward +1 WIS and +10 XP.]
Then, just as abruptly as it began, the swirling colors faded, and the vividness of the system receded, leaving Alton to blink awake in the quiet of the strange room. Yet, the memory of the voice, the screen that looked like something straight out of a game, and the strange designation nexus point lingered with an unusual clarity, making the real world feel slightly less solid in comparison.
Though he was awake, a deep-seated exhaustion still clung to his limbs, a lingering effect of the accident and his body's initial shock. This physical weakness and pain, combined with the mental processing of the bizarre system and his arrival in this strange place, contributed to a continued cycle of drowsiness. Despite having this slight clarity of mind, he fell back straight into deep slumber; the acute pain of his aching muscles and healing fractures receding to the back of his awareness.
The next few days became a disorienting pattern of brief awakenings, where the intrusive thoughts of the system and the strangeness of his surroundings would surface, followed by a slide back into a hazy sleep as his body struggled to recover. During these short periods of consciousness, he would eat the unfamiliar variations of familiar but delicious food brought by the elderly woman before the exhaustion pulled him back under. The ethereal voice remained silent, but the fragmented memories of that moment were not forgotten.
The kind elderly woman tended to him with quiet efficiency. As days passed on, the air in the room felt noticeably clearer, the persistent tickle in Alton’s nose somewhat subsided and disappeared along the days.
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One morning, as she brought him a bowl of century egg and lean pork porridge, Alton managed to stay awake a little longer. The earthy and slightly sulfuric aroma of the century egg mixed with the comforting scent of the porridge made Alton wonder about his family. The presence of this elderly woman and the absence of his own family was rather concerning. The ever-present scent of incense in the room had finally dissipated entirely, a small comfort in this unsettling reality. The slight anxiety spiked in his mind, questioning his location as logic told him that he should be in a medical facility instead, with all the injuries that he should have suffered. However, this could be answered later when he had more energy.
"多謝," (Doh zeh) (Thank you) he murmured, his voice still rough, in Cantonese.
The elderly woman smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "唔使客氣, 後生仔.” (Mm sai hak hei, hau sang zai) (You're welcome, young man). You can call me Chen Po." She spoke in clear, slightly accented English. (Note: "Po" (婆) is a Cantonese term of respect for an elderly woman, often used like "Grandma" but not typically part of a formal name introduction in English.)
"Alton," he replied, the name feeling foreign on his tongue in this strange place, switching to English when he realised that Chen Po also spoke English. "Alton Lum."
Chen Po nodded gently. "Rest now, Alton. You are in a place where you will be cared for."
Despite her reassuring words, the food she brought continued to be a source of bewilderment. One day it was the peppery bak kut teh (pork rib soup), but with an undertone of spices he’d never encountered. Another day, delicate dumplings filled with fragrant minced meat, served with a black vinegar dipping sauce and shredded ginger, that had a surprising sweetness. Even the simple bowl of peanut and pig (pork) liver porridge was infused with subtle herbs. He recognized the base flavors of Singaporean Chinese cuisine, but there was an added layer, an almost magical depth he couldn’t place. Despite the difference, the similarities were enough to provide him with a sense of comfort each time as he drifts back into darkness.
Despite that little comfort, Alton's mind was filled with questions and a growing sense of unease. Eventually, when he awoke again, the elderly woman was there, tending to him with the same gentle care. This time, he was determined to get some answers. Gathering his strength, he asked, his voice still weak but more insistent, "Chen Po, where exactly is this place? Why am I not in a hospital? Like Tan Tock Seng Hospital or Changi General Hospital?” His brow furrowed with confusion. The room, with its traditional trappings, felt nothing like the sterile environment he associated with modern medicine.
Chen Po offered a gentle smile. "This is Chinatown, young one," she replied slow and gently, her voice soothing. "You were brought here after your… accident. It was not deemed appropriate to take you to a conventional hospital. Rest. All will be explained in time."
He furrowed his brows, but realised that he could get no further answers from Chen Po at this point. Leaving it to blind faith in Chen Po, he decided to give in to sleep and recovery once more.
As his strength tentatively returned after days spent drifting in and out of consciousness and being nurtured by nutritious food, Chen Po began to encourage him to move around the room. He quickly discovered that his legs felt weak and unsteady, a slight muscle atrophy evident after his period of relative immobility. Simple steps felt surprisingly tiring, and he had to lean on the furniture for support. It was a humbling reminder of his vulnerability. A subtle flush crept up his neck as the realization dawned on him – during those hazy days, utterly reliant on Chen Po's care, his most basic and private needs must have been tended to by her. A wave of embarrassment mixed with gratitude washed over him, a silent acknowledgment of her selfless kindness.
Looking out of the window, the skyline was dominated not by the infrastructure that he had been accustomed to his entire life, but by buildings with gracefully curved tiled roofs and intricate carvings. Then he saw it. In the distance, a majestic, serpentine structure wound through the landscape – a dragon, impossibly real. Its scales shimmered like a thousand emeralds catching the sunlight as it flew with powerful, graceful movements towards a towering pagoda he vaguely recognized as a more ornate and taller version of the Buddha Tooth Relic Temple & Museum. Alton stared, his breath catching in his throat. A real dragon. Flying in the sky above Singapore. This wasn't just a different skyline; perhaps, it was a different reality altogether.
He started questioning if the landscape before him was indeed an obscure part of the Chinatown that he was familiar with in his Singapore or if his brain is dealing with aftereffects of a concussion, leading to hallucinations. Alton took a closer look at the landscape before him, scrutinizing the details of the buildings. In Singapore, this Chinatown area is known for its rows of colonial shophouses and bustling business activity. However, in this parallel Singapore he finds himself in, that landscape is replaced by traditional architecture, highlighting the magical and historical elements of this world compared to the historical heritage buildings he knows.
The air in this parallel world, while carrying the pervasive scent of incense from various shrines and homes, is also laced with a subtle floral fragrance. He consciously focused on the details, a part of his mind ticking off the "observe your surroundings" directive, but his gaze kept drifting back to where the dragon had disappeared behind the rooftops. Pushing this visage back as more questions to ask Chen Po at a later time, Alton sipped the mug of Xiang Pian(Jasmine tea) which had been placed at his bedside before settling himself back to sleep.
One afternoon, Chen Po took him for a short walk in a nearby garden. The air was alive with the chirping of exotic birds and the scent of unfamiliar blossoms. As they strolled past a serene pond in the large garden courtyard resembling the Botanical Gardens, a flash of iridescent blue caught his eye. A creature with the body of a fish and the head of a lion, its scales gleaming like jewels, briefly surfaced before disappearing beneath the lily pads. It was the Merlion, but… alive. Majestic. Not the concrete statue at Raffles Place and Marina Bay. He made a mental note of the creature's vibrant colors and fluid movements, a flicker of something his [World Sense] was trying to interpret.
“Did you… did you see that?” Alton stammered, pointing at the spot where the creature had vanished.
Chen Po smiled knowingly. “The guardians are always watching, young one. You are in a place where the old stories are not just stories.”
Alton stopped, turning to face Chen Po fully. The image of the flying dragon was vivid in his mind, now coupled with the sight of the creature in the pond. “You mean… those creatures? The dragon I saw… and that… that Merlion-like thing? They’re real? Like… actually real?” His voice was a mix of disbelief and a dawning wonder. The subtle hum he’d felt after the system notification, the faint sense of underlying energies his [World Sense] had hinted at, seemed to resonate with her words. The tutorial quest… observing my surroundings… it’s all pointing to this, isn’t it? This isn’t just a visual difference; the very nature of this place is different. I guess this isn’t a hallucination after all.
Chen Po nodded slowly, her gaze serious as she faced the pond and stared into it. “Indeed. In this Singapore, the legends live. The spirits of the land and sea are not mere tales for children. They have power, and they watch over us.”
Alton shook his head slightly, trying to reconcile the familiar with the utterly bizarre. “This… Singapore? But… how? How is this possible? Are you saying that this is a different world? My Singapore… it doesn’t have… well, any of this. Where… where am I? This isn’t Singapore. The buildings… the creatures…”
Chen Po’s expression softened with understanding. “Your world and this one are reflections, young Alton. But the path of history diverged long ago. Here, the old ways were not forgotten. The magic… it remained. And you, as the nexus, are now a part of this reality. Come let us have lunch and talk over it.”
Later, as Chen Po served Alton a simple but nourishing lunch of soy sauce steamed fish and rice, he couldn't contain his curiosity any longer. "Chen Po," he began, his voice gaining a little more strength, "you said I was brought here after my accident... and that it wasn't 'appropriate' for a hospital? What do you mean by that? What is this place? And what is... the Nexus you mentioned?" He watched her intently, eager for answers.
Chen Po paused, placing a delicate piece of fish on his plate. She sighed, her eyes filled with a deep sadness. “You have crossed over to a parallel world, child. You are in a Singapore that exists alongside your own. A Singapore where the veil between worlds is thin, and the spirits and legends walk among us. But be warned, Alton. This world is in danger. The echoes of the old ways are fading, and there are those who seek to silence them forever.”
She placed her chopsticks down and sipped her water before continuing. "This world, young one," she explained, her voice taking on a more serious tone, "is... well, different. A world that exists alongside, and yet... separate from, the one you know. Countries and places that you know of are also here. However, this is a place where the myths and legends that you have heard of, are real. More importantly, you, Alton, are what we call a nexus point – a focal point where the energies of this world converge. That's why your condition is beyond the understanding of your world's medicine, and why you were brought here. It was not just your physical body that needed to recover, but also your inner physiology."
As she spoke those words, a subtle notification flickered in the corner of his vision, almost like a half-remembered dream:
[Tutorial Quest Completed: Observe your surroundings.] [Reward: +1 WIS, +10 XP]
Immediately, a sharp, throbbing pain lanced through Alton's temples. His senses seemed to heighten for a few disorienting moments – the scent of the soy sauce, ginger and spring onions became almost overwhelming, the soft sounds of nature outside intensified, and the intricate patterns on the wooden furniture seemed to vibrate. It was as if his mind was suddenly trying to process a surge of new information, a faint understanding of the energies Chen Po spoke of, a subtle hum beneath the surface of reality that his [World Sense] was beginning to register. The discomfort subsided after a few minutes, leaving him feeling slightly drained but with a strange sense of… clarity.
At the same time as the tutorial completion, a new quest appeared on the edge of his vision:
[A System Quest has been initiated: Integrate - focus on your [Status] for 60 seconds. Reward: [Basic Understanding].]
Alton blinked, trying to focus on the new text. Integrate? Basic Understanding Skill? It was all still so strange. He instinctively tried to bring up his [Status] again, focusing on the word in his mind. The blue screen flickered into view:
[Status]
Name: Alton Lum (Unbound)
Level: 1
XP: 10/100
HP: 50/50
MP: 25/25
STR: 5
AGI: 7
VIT: 5
INT: 10
WIS: 9 (+1)
LUK: ?
Skills:
[World Sense] (Passive)
System Quest:
Integrate - focus on your [Status] for 60 seconds.
Reward: [Basic Understanding].
As the brief discomfort faded, Alton raised his head to see a tall, gaunt figure stood silhouetted against a large tree in the courtyard. For a fleeting moment, a stray beam of sunlight filtered through the foliage and caught the back of their hand, revealing a symbol etched there – a stylized, broken compass. The sight of it sent a wave of unease washing over Alton, with the delicious aroma of the steamed fish suddenly turning bitter in his mouth.
