The silence was the first thing that truly stunned her.

  Not the blessed silence that comes late at night in a city, when only an occasional car passes outside the window. No. This was absolute, oppressive silence, in which there was no hum of a refrigerator, no distant rumble of the subway, not even the buzz of a fly.

  Nothing.

  Only her own traitorously loud breathing and the pounding of her heart in her ears.

  She rose from the bed, and the old floorboards beneath her feet creaked thunderously in the ringing stillness. The sound was so sharp and coarse that she flinched.

  The room she had found herself in was not merely abandoned; it looked as though a hurricane had passed through it. An overturned table, scattered utensils, heaps of rags in the corner. Dust hung in the air in thick flakes, making her throat tighten.

  Approaching the only dusty window, she wiped the glass with the sleeve of her coarse dress — a чужой dress on a чужое body.

  Outside, the view looked as if it had stepped straight out of a historical novel. A cobblestone street, half-timbered houses with dark beams, faded shop signs worn by time.

  And again — not a soul.

  Not a sound.

  It was completely unbelievable.

  “Alright,” she thought, clinging to familiar clichés. “So be it — an isekai into the Middle Ages. The important thing is not to get burned at the stake in the first chapter.”

  The thought was meant as a joke, but it did nothing to lift her mood.

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  The door of the house creaked as if it hadn’t been opened in a hundred years. The air outside was fresh, carrying the smell of smoke and sweetly blooming trees.

  Right in front of the house stretched an alley covered with pink petals, very similar to cherry blossoms. Beautiful — almost too beautiful.

  She slowly walked down the alley, and her footsteps echoed hollowly in the mute world. The houses on both sides were like twins of the one she had left — just as old, slightly crooked, yet surprisingly intact.

  The alley led her out onto a wide street.

  And there, the world came alive.

  People appeared on the street. They stepped out of houses, carried baskets, led horses by the reins, pushed heavily loaded carts. Their movements were smooth, almost dance-like.

  But still there was not a single sound.

  No clatter of hooves.

  No creak of wheels.

  No murmur of voices.

  It looked like a silent film in perfect quality.

  Unsettling. Surreal.

  She froze, watching the soundless bustle. The people looked… too clean and well-kept for the Middle Ages, but otherwise like ordinary townsfolk. No one paid any attention to her.

  And then she saw them.

  Two women stood by a fountain, “talking” about something. They smiled, their lips moving, their heads tilting in graceful gestures.

  Giving in to a sudden impulse, Rina took a step toward them and smiled uncertainly, trying to look politely curious.

  One of the women turned her head toward her. Her face was pretty, her smile unchanged — and unnaturally wide.

  She said something, addressing Rina directly.

  And that was when the dam burst.

  Sound crashed over Rina all at once, as if she had finally woken up and begun hearing everything again.

  She stood there, staring at the women in astonishment. Seeing her hesitation, they repeated their question.

  Language.

  It was a stream of smooth, singing, utterly alien sounds. Not a single familiar syllable, not one recognizable intonation. It flowed like water — melodic and meaningless.

  Beautiful. And completely incomprehensible.

  The awkward smile froze on Rina’s face, then slowly slipped away, replaced by total confusion and a growing horror.

  She had not understood a single word.

  She looked into the bright, living eyes of the stranger who kept speaking to her with the same polite smile, and felt the ground slipping from beneath her feet.

  This was not a foreign language.

  This was something else entirely — something that had never existed in her world.

  Receiving no answer, the woman nodded with the same indifferent politeness and turned back to her companion, continuing their silent conversation.

  Rina remained standing in the middle of the now-living yet still soundless street.

  The buzzing in her head grew louder, drowning everything out. She was deaf and mute. She could not ask, could not understand.

  Even the shop signs were covered in squiggles that resembled no script she had ever seen.

  Slowly, as if in a dream, she backed toward the wall of the nearest house, feeling a tremor rise from her knees to her chin.

  All her assumptions, all the scenarios from books and stories, crumbled to dust.

  This was not a game.

  Not virtual reality.

  Not a book.

  This was something far larger, far more incomprehensible — and far lonelier.

  And she was trapped here, cut off from everything by the most insurmountable barrier of all:

  the complete impossibility of understanding.