The first week passed slowly.
Kaelen woke before dawn each day. The monastery bell rang once at first light. Twice at midday. Three times at dusk. The rhythm became a map for his hours. He ate rice porridge in the refectory. He swept the infirmary floors. He carried water buckets for Jun. He learned the names of the herbs drying on the racks. He learned which shelves held bandages and which held salves.
He did not learn why he was there.
The system flickered sometimes. A blue pulse at the edge of his vision. Warnings about the divine signature. Observations from unseen eyes. But no quests. No markers. No way home. Just static. Just waiting.
Lin Shen checked on him every third day. Always the same routine. Pulse. Eyes. Hum. A question or two. Kaelen answered honestly. Mostly. Lin Shen never pushed.
The disciples did not check on him. They watched.
Jun was kind. The other young monks were not.
