Creating an Industrial Empire in 19th Century Parallel World
Creating an Industrial Empire in 19th Century Parallel World - Chapter 2: New World?

"Huh?" Jonathan uttered as his eyesight slowly regained its focus. It was blurry for five seconds but after that everything became clear

"Where am I?" Jonathan uttered another, he looked left and right and saw an unusual place.

He was in an alley and it was raining. The sound of the raindrops falling to the ground produced a pitter-pattering sound. He raised his both hands and noticed they were unusually small and thin, like that of a child.

"Eh?" Jonathan for the third time processed the visual data before him. "What is going on?"

Then he brought his hand to his face and he felt the chilling sensation seeping over it. The raindrop falling onto his head that forms a trickle of liquid, washing all over him, was cold. Also, as he was running his hands over his face, he noticed that it was kind of small.

"What the…" Jonathan muttered. Confusion is starting to get over him as the thoughts of unusualness wrap around every sensation.

Then he recalled his recent memories up to this point. He was at a coffee shop meeting his best friend named Poul discussing their project that they'll work on in six months. He remembered that Poul is planning to marry his longtime crush, Sara, who will be arriving in ten or twenty minutes. He doesn't know the exact time but it's probably within that time frame. And then, things change abruptly. The sound of the tire exploding startled him. He looked towards the source of the sounds and there he saw a truck approaching them at a speed of fifty, no, sixty kilometers per hour. It was accelerating, as the driver must have mistakenly stamped the gas pedal instead of the break. Upon impact, he got knocked out and woke up in this place, which is unusual.

He is expecting to wake up in a brightly-lit hospital room. Instead, he woke up in a cold dark alley with a body he didn't recognize.

He tried to get up, but something was pressing on his right shoulder.

Curious, he looked to his right. There, he saw a person's head resting on his shoulder. This jolted Jonathan up straight, causing the boy's head to fall to the ground.

Now having a clear sight of the person's figure, Jonathan can tell that it was a male from its ragged clothing alone. Is he a beggar of some sort? And what's with the silver hair? Did he dye it or something? He doesn't know. But he wondered why he was resting on his right shoulder—

Jonathan realized another thing, his height. It was short! That doesn't look right, he is 186 centimeters tall. Based on his line of sight, and any other object present in the alley that he can use as a reference, he calculated and arrived at an answer.

He's somewhere 165 centimeters tall!

This fact horrified him and he began touching his body here and there. His clothes were different from the ones he had last worn, and his body was small like a literal 10 or 12-year-old boy.

"What the fuck?!" Jonathan cursed, really unbefitting for someone who is casually reserved and silent.

In front of him, the silver-haired boy that was resting on his shoulder started moving. He must have been awakened by his loud curse.

The silver-haired boy lifted his upper body and wiped his eyes groggily.

"Eh…where is this…"

Jonathan stood there and watched as the silver-haired boy took in all the surroundings. Moments later, his gaze fell on him.

"Who are you?" the silver-haired boy asked.

"Who am I?" Jonathan repeated. How should he answer? He is in the body of a child that still flabbergasts him up to this point. The strangeness of everything is clouding the rationality of his thoughts.

Before Jonathan could utter a response, the silver-haired boy suddenly yelped.

"Ehhh! What the fuck is this?! Why are my arms and legs small!"

Jonathan's eyes widened at his reaction, he reacted the same as him.

"This can't be…" the silver-haired boy stood up, paranoid. "What is this? Who am I…and who are you?"

"Jonathan…" he blurted out a reply.

"Jonathan?" the silver-haired boy's brows raised, revealing his golden eyes that gleamed like gold. "Jonathan who?"

"Jonathan Axelsen."

"Jonathan Axelsen?!" the silver-haired boy exclaimed. "There's no way you're tripping…! You don't even look like him."

"I don't look like him?" Jonathan tilted his head to the side. "What's your name?"

"I'm Poul…Poul Nielsen…"

"Poul Nielsen?!" Jonathan exclaimed. "There's no way, you didn't even look like him!"

It was only a natural reaction. Claiming that the brat in front of him was his best friend was beyond ridiculous. Like how is it even possible…

Jonathan's mind trailed off like he had realized his situation.

"Jonathan…is that you?" Poul asked, walking up to him as his eyes scanned his appearance. A blonde-haired kid with clothes similar to his.

"Uhm…yes? I'm Jonathan Axelsen…" Jonathan shrugged his shoulders.

"Do a small introduction."

"I'm Jonathan Axelsen, born in Denmark. I'm 37 years old Uhm I graduated from Aalborg University with a master's in civil—"

"Okay okay alright that's enough," Poul interrupted. "I think it's safe to assume that you are the man I knew since childhood."

"How about you? Are you the real Poul Axelsen that I know?"

"Yes…we grew up in the same neighborhood and graduated from the same university. After that, I went to the States to pursue a master's degree in electrical engineering and then worked for several companies until I returned to Copenhagen…"

"Okay I think that's enough," Jonathan interrupted. "Well, it's true that our story matches but how are you going to explain that body?"

"I don't know," Poul shrugged. "After the truck ran over us, I was conscious for about a minute and after that, it went dark, and a second later, I woke up in this body. It's strange."

"Yeah me too," Jonathan rubbed his chin. Now that the puzzle is starting to piece itself out, they begin to feel the body's reaction to its surroundings.

"Lort...it's cold," Poul swore as he crossed his arm over his shivering body.

"It is," Jonathan agreed, breathing out a puff of white mist into the air. "So cold!"

"We can try and figure out what happened to us later. We need to find a warm shelter first. The temperature is at approximately five degrees. We could…suffer…from hypothermia…if we stay outside for too long," Poul stammered, his teeth clattering uncontrollably.

Jonathan nodded in affirmation and began running toward the end of the alley. There, they let out a sigh of awe.

Instead of seeing four-wheeled vehicles, they saw horse-drawn carriages. The people's attire was an assortment of Victorian casual and formal clothing, or at least, it's giving off the vibe of it. The streets were filled with mud and horse poop, which strung their noses in disgust. And the place was dim. There were no streetlights or any kind of electrical lighting around. Though there are stores that are lit, they can see that it was just a candle.

"Get out of the way you filthy Albian," said a jerk passerby who kicked Poul to his side so hard that he tumbled.

"HEY!!!" Jonathan shouted in indignation and stepped forward. "What the fuck is your problem?!"

"Haah?!" said the adult male, turning around and menacingly looming over Jonathan. Based on his clothing, it seemed like he was a big shot. "Did you just raise your voice at me boy?"

He sniggered, "Why are you standing up for that pig? Can't you even see his shiny silver hair?"

"What's wrong with that?" Jonathan stared at the man's eyes unwaveringly.

"Surely you have some loose screws on your head. Don't you know that their kind came from an uncivilized continent?"

While all of that was happening, Poul lurched to his feet, groaning in pain. He just heard their conversation about him having silver hair. So he pulled a single strand and looked at it.

"I do have silver hair…Eh? I have silver hair?"

"What if his hair is silver? That is give you the right to hit a person, especially a child?"

The man laughed deridingly after hearing that. "I have every right to hit an inferior being. They are nothing but mere livestock who deserve to only look at the ground forever." en. c

"I don't understand what you are talking about but what you just did is—"

A slap echoed in the streets like a whip.

"You? You just raised your voice at me…do you even know who I am? Brat?"

A sharp pain ran over Jonathan's face, reddening his left cheek.

"It's good that you are one of us because if not, a slap is not the only thing you'll get."

"Jonathan…let's go," Poul said as he pulled him by the arm. "Let's get out of here."

The man looked at them in disgust, spitting at the ground. "Why are you huddling with that trash, kid? Didn't your parents teach you a lesson about their kind?"

"Just ignore that simple-minded buffoon," Poul whispered as they silently walked away.

"His slap hurts," Jonathan remarked, rubbing his cheek.

As they strode away in silence, the passerby they are passing by stepped aside and cast a contemptuous gaze on them.

"Looks like having silver hair is frowned upon in whatever country this is…" Poul said.

"It's the least of our worries, for now," Jonathan said. "Our first priority is to look for a shelter, otherwise we would die from the cold."

"How about that store over there?" Poul pointed at a bakery store across the street.

"Let's hope they'll let us in," he scanned their appearance. They literally looked like beggars who were kicked out of their homes and had been scavenging for food in the garbage. Their chances of the clerk or store owner letting them in are close to zero. But still, they'll give it a shot.