GOT: I Have A World Travel Gate In My House!

Himmel had made a decision. No one—not his parents, not his sister, not even his closest acquaintances—would know about the Gate of Worlds.

The risk was too great. Once a secret was shared, it was no longer a secret. And the danger it could bring to his family? Unthinkable. Himmel resolved to shoulder this burden alone, protecting his loved ones from both the knowledge and the stress it would inevitably cause.

He told himself that one day, when he had harnessed the full potential of this gift, he would give his family the life they deserved. But for now, ignorance was safety, and safety was happiness.

With that resolve in place, Himmel turned his attention to a daunting question: could living creatures survive the passage between the two worlds?

He decided to experiment, but not with people. The risks were far too high. Instead, his eyes landed on the small glass fish tank on the windowsill, where two goldfish swam lazily in the clear water.

"Sorry about this, you two," he muttered, lifting the tank carefully. "But I'll make it up to you. New food, a bigger tank, maybe even some friends to keep you company."

Clutching the tank, Himmel activated the Gate. In an instant, the familiar confines of his apartment gave way to the open fields of Westeros. The cold, crisp air bit at his skin, but his focus was solely on the fish.

The sight made his heart sink. The goldfish floated lifelessly on the water's surface, their once-vibrant fins now limp and still.

"They're dead," he murmured, his voice heavy with disappointment. "Why?"

Returning to his apartment, Himmel stared at the tank, the dead fish a stark reminder of the potential dangers of the Gate.

"Is it the passage itself?" he wondered aloud. "Maybe the Gate kills any living organism except me. A safety mechanism to prevent cross-contamination of bacteria or viruses between worlds? If that's the case, it's a failsafe—protecting both worlds from catastrophic outbreaks."

It was a logical explanation, but it meant one thing: transporting living beings, including people, was impossible. Or at least, incredibly dangerous.

The thought of testing it on another human sent a shiver down his spine. The idea was too reckless, even for him. Shaking his head, he refocused on the task at hand.

The goldfish experiment had failed. There was no point in dwelling on it. With a sigh, Himmel disposed of the dead fish and the water from the tank. "Sorry, little guys," he muttered. "You were just tools in the end."

But failure didn't mean giving up. Himmel now understood the true power of the Gate: the ability to transport resources between two worlds.

The concept of monopoly thrilled him. To hold exclusive access to the resources of two worlds? The possibilities were endless. With careful planning, he could amass wealth beyond imagination.

He let the thought settle, his mind racing with potential. No longer was he bound by the limitations of a salesman's salary or the confines of his small apartment. The Gate was his key to freedom.

But freedom required preparation. Westeros was a harsh, unforgiving world—a medieval land of political intrigue, warring factions, and deadly dangers. Safety had to come first.

Himmel opened his laptop and began searching for the tools he would need. His first purchase was stab-proof clothing—a lightweight, ultra-durable fabric designed to resist cuts and punctures.

"It's not Valyrian steel," he muttered, recalling the legendary metal of Westeros. "But it'll do the job against ordinary blades."

Next, he ordered a pair of high-quality hiking boots. The rugged terrain of Westeros would demand sturdy footwear, and these boots promised both comfort and durability.

The prices stung—$1000 for the protective clothing, $400 for the boots—but Himmel paid without hesitation. Safety was worth the cost.

With the basics secured, Himmel leaned back in his chair, staring at the growing list of supplies in his cart. He was no longer just an ordinary man.

He was a traveler between worlds, and his journey was just beginning.

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