Transmigration.
In the novel that he loved. So that really only gave Allen - or in this case, Grace - one thing to do.
"System!" He immediately exclaimed.
Nothing happened.
"System open!"
Nothing happened again. Allen frowned, slightly disappointed at not having a system. But it made sense for it to be that way—the novel's power system would be in conflict if there was a system-like mechanism cheat in play.
If there was anything that could come in conflict with the logic of this world, this novel, then the balance of the world would shift greatly; the future, if this occurred, would be unpredictable and intangible for any and all.
"Huahhh… what am I going to do?" Allen let out a sigh, rubbing his temples as he sat back on his soft, luscious bed in exasperation.
His mouth curled downwards into a frown.
"I'm guessing this guy is some character that was disposed of? Yeah, perhaps. Considering the author made no note of this character, that must be it."
In addition to that, this character was incredibly handsome—there was no way he wouldn't stand out, considering the cast of characters ranged in vast characteristics.
"God, just thinking about this novel makes my heart burst in complex ways." Allen stopped himself, his face scrunching at what he just said.
That was not how he spoke; the mannerism, the diction, and the way he expelled it from his mouth was comparably different than what he was used to.
This body… is it influencing me? He's read novels that captured this type of transmigration. But he never truly thought the body would begin to influence "Allen" and not Allen influencing the body of "Grace."
Allen planted his hand over his chest, shadowing over the area where the heart of "Grace" resided.
Placate and soothe.
The shines of the brilliant sun rained down on his back, cascading like a waterfall drowning him. He clicked his tongue - even that felt foreign and unique to him, unfamiliar - and stood up from where he was resting on the bed.
Not too far away from, there was a calendar hanging from the wall painted this grandiose color—an enchanted olive hue. Allen saw the date.
August 22nd, 2245.
Blight was a novel that took place in the future after the world experienced a cataclysmic event that turned normalcy into mysticism and magic and pure fantasy.
Again, Allen clicked his tongue.
"Transmigrating here of all places…" Allen murmured as he looked at the world beyond the window; it was beautiful, full of vibrancy and color and technology that exceeded the technology from his old world.
But, this world was anything but full of lively promise. In fact, it was eventually after the first two volumes of the novel that went over the academy days for the protagonist, did the author fully began to delve into the insanity of the world.
From the illusory dungeons that rotted the mind, as though they were whole new worlds, to deities and the strong attempting to take over the bodies of mortal humans, and even the despair of witnessing the sight of what should never be witnessed.
Everywhere one walked, danger lurked. And even thinking about the future of this world made Allen's skin crawl in fear and anxiety.
Looking at the calendar again, Allen had to recall whether or not 2245 was before the events of the novel's story.
"It is," he muttered to himself. "The academy starts not too long from now--August 24, so not too long away." In fact, there were only two more days until the academy began, with the whimsical new beginnings for all the characters that shall lead the world to a new age, or astray.
All of these intense revelations coursing through his head, Allen subsequently put his hand on his head and caressed the pulsating fragments of the distorted memories of this glorious body. Allen closed his eyes, exhaling a deep breath.
"Rank 10," he muttered to himself. "Grace Walker, Rank 10 out of the 400 Freshmen entering this year." Of course, this would be a great achievement for anyone, however--this was incredibly mediocre for someone who bore Walker blood.
Someone who bore the blood of the ancients, those who have jumpstarted this age--being anything short of number 1 would be a failure through and through. However, being rank 10 was still a privilege.
Those below him would be unable to ridicule him, for they could not truly measure the depth of his capacity unless they were equals in strength. Allen sorted through his memories, recounting times he trained and fought.
He could imagine it, remember it--the pain that he endured to get to this point, and the lack of ability he held. However, the blood of the Walker still did its work, and he managed to maintain a steady growth of strength and an image of a cold-hearted individual, devoted to scholarly work.
But... that is not who he truly is. He, rather than this cold individual, is an insecure boy scared of failing. Could this nature spread to Allen himself? These insecurities this body held, would it eventually fall into his hands?
Again, Allen found himself looking into the mirror.
"Someday, Allen Hart may cease to exist."
And there may stand an abomination in his wake.
~~~
The personal butler to Grace Walker, Abraham, was an ordinary man. His flesh was nothing extraordinary than that of the common man. However, the years that he has spent under the guidance of the Walker Family has made him wise and knowledgable.
So, when he saw Grace walk down the stairs from the temporary housing that they were living in until the day the academy started--it was not long before he noticed something.
"Master Grace," Abraham called out to him. The boy he has served since he was just a child turned around, a cold-look shadowing over his beautiful features. "Is something the matter?" Indeed, Allen had managed to maintain the normal expression that has hovered over Grace's face.
He, however, could not hide the glimmer of curiosity and wonder that lingered in his eyes. There was a layer of enchant behind the depths of the coldness that stared into the world.
And, through the years of the butler's experience within the family affairs and the in-depth understanding of Grace Walker, was able to discern this uncommon occurrence quickly.
"No." Abraham heard as he sipped on his tea. His eyes stared at Grace, trying to look deeper into this layer of difference. He found nothing, so he decided not to look into it for too long.
Sometimes, things are better off left unsaid. And while he certainly cared for this boy in front of him, he understood the boundaries that Grace has placed around him since the moment he gained the intelligence to discern the difference between him and his siblings.
Even by the standards of the Walker Family the two older siblings were talents that could not be understood. And while Grace was a notable talent, he just lacked the full capacity compared to his older siblings.
"Well, if nothing is the matter, what shall you do today before the ceremony, Master Grace?"
There was a split moment of silence, a period of thought spreading across the Grace's face before he pointed towards the door.
"Let us take a stroll."