Someone might ask: what is this huge jump in my thought process the moment I moved to another world? (In fact, the moment I found myself in a strange room and saw a reflection that wasn't mine) — I began thinking these thoughts immediately. I don't blame you, but put yourselves in my place: a person who finds no pleasure, who sees everything in gray from sheer boredom. I used to kill people to get some excitement and to satisfy that twisted part of me, but even killing itself has become boring lately. Killing turned from a hobby into a job — a bothersome job, too. I even thought about suicide from the depth of my boredom. Then suddenly I moved into another world — preferably a magical one — and best of all, I know the future of that world. Wouldn't you start setting grand goals and plans to make the best use of that knowledge?
For example, if one of you traveled through time, you wouldn't only buy all the shares of the great companies as soon as they're formed; you'd build relationships with people of influence when they're just starting out, and maybe steal a few patents and claim them as your own. All these possibilities and more are now in my hands. Naturally, I'm excited. I was trying to organize my scattered thoughts. I am now inside the world of the novel written by the author I killed.
Why? Is it a curse — perhaps because I killed the author? But that makes no sense; I have killed many people before and nothing happened. I mean, if I were to be cursed with every murder I committed, I would have met a fate worse than death long ago. So what's the reason? No matter how I wrack my brain, no ideas surface. I decided to ignore it for the time being; there's no point in spending time seeking a logical answer to an illogical question. I'll find out the reason in the end... I think.
Now I'm trying to clear my chaotic thoughts and come up with a plan for what to do in this world. First, I must avoid the fate of petty Salfi and not die that pathetic, shameful death. I'm not afraid of death, but imagine dying like that — it would make me nauseous.
Okay. First, let's avoid acting like a third-rate villain like worthless Salfi: despising people and humiliating them in public, attempting to rape any beautiful girl who catches his eye, and begging attention from his family members who ignore him like an abandoned puppy — all of this must end. I thought of this while "browsing" Salfi's memories (I think that nickname suits him).
Second, I must become stronger. The world of this novel is full of events where people die in large numbers. I must become stronger using the memories I have from the novel. Also — my thoughts were cut off by the sound of the door knocking. Then an old man dressed as a servant entered. Before I could react, he hurried toward me. His wrinkled face looked at me with worried eyes, and he asked, "Are you all right, young master?"
Using my new memory, it took me several seconds to recognize who he was, and several seconds to answer. I replied in an annoyed tone, "What do you mean, old man? Do you see that something is wrong with me?"
He answered with a worried tone, "Well, you were laughing out loud a moment ago; that's why I'm asking: are you okay?"
Damn. Note to my future self: next time you move into the world of a novel you've read, do not laugh out loud. I answered him irritably, imitating worthless Salfi: "And am I supposed to explain the reason for my laughter to you, you lowly servant? Have you forgotten your place?"
Instead of the panic that would have struck any other servant at my words — because they know that a fate worse than death awaits them, something like seeing their families killed in the worst ways before their eyes (I learned this from the memories) — the old man remained silent for a moment before sighing a helpless, tired sigh.
He looked like a father who had lost hope in his son; his reaction was not strange given his past with Derek. This old man is called Julian, and he had taken care of Derek since he was five years old due to Derek's family's neglect of him for being talentless. Julian was his teacher, friend, and father, but in recent years Derek's frustration with his weakness took over him. He had no talents; he watched all his family members, even his younger siblings, advance in rank and show their talents while he was left behind, ruined. And let's not forget the looks of fear people gave him when they saw his half-charred face. All he could do was vent his anger on servants and the common folk. Certainly seeing that was hard for Julian, who had been with Derek from the start. From what I saw in my memory, Julian truly tried to return Derek to the right path, but all of that was in vain.
In the end, Julian completely lost hope in Derek and began treating him coldly. He later joined the protagonist and became one of the main reasons for Derek's death. I must get this old man, I thought as I looked at him; I can't leave him to join the protagonist as in the novel. Also, I'm very weak right now; I need power I can obtain, and this wrinkled old man appears from my memory and the novel's events to be very powerful. I need to mend my relationship with him quickly. I smiled inwardly — a wide smile. And I know how to do it.
Julian was deeply disappointed as he looked at Derek — the boy he had raised since birth, the child he treated as a substitute for his own son who hadn't reached six, the child who learned everything from him: names of things to martial arts. He taught him sincerely and treated him exactly like his son. But when he saw the final result, Julian couldn't stop the bitterness that seeped into his chest. He knew that his young master was oppressed by his family and that this must have affected him, but that was no excuse for him to persecute the innocent and the weak in turn. Julian tried to justify Derek's actions, thinking the face-burning incident had deeply affected him and caused Derek's turn to corruption, but he grew tired of making excuses for him and tired of the constant ingratitude and repeated insults from this ungrateful youth. It was time to accept the truth in front of him: not a substitute for his son, but simply a corrupt, pitiable young man who doesn't know how to appreciate those around him; staying by his side will only bring more sorrow to Julian's heart.
He stared long at Julian's troubled expression which, along with that huge scar on his face, gave him an ominous, threatening aura. Then he turned to leave, saying, "Sorry to disturb you, young master. I will leave now." He was thinking in that moment of leaving this family. In fact, the only reason he stayed in this despicable family was the sense of duty he felt when he saw Derek being discriminated against and abused by his family — the same discrimination he had suffered in his own childhood before being expelled from his family. He wanted to be by the child's side because he knew the feeling of being talentless in a family that takes talent for granted. He would leave his job here; he had truly grown tired of all this nonsense he had entangled himself in. Perhaps it was time to retire: he had savings enough to live the rest of his life in comfort, and he had the strength to protect himself in such a brutal world.
With these thoughts, as he was about to open the door to leave, he heard a sound that made him freeze. A sound — crying???