"Why can't I open my eyes? It's like they're stitched shut so tightly!"
"I feel like I'm floating in space… There's a wound near my chest—God, it burns. I want to touch it, to ease the pain."
Detective Jin MacMian tried to move just a single finger to reach the wound, but he couldn't move at all. It was as if every part of his body had been sewn tight, binding him completely.
"Am I dead or what? Or is it because of this damned case? God… this case made me wish for just an hour of sleep because it forced me awake for days on end."
"Did I get paralyzed? No way that happened… I'm a young man in my twenties, there's no way something like this could happen to me."
His voice trembled with fear and deep anxiety for his own fate.
"God, am I really going to die? After all those accomplishments, earning a salary to help my family—am I going to end just like this?"
"I wish I'd lied—made up an excuse not to take this case. But it's too late now. My arrogance devoured me whole, thinking I was the best."
While he blamed himself for losing everything, he suddenly fell backwards from a wooden chair, hitting his back hard.
"Damn it—does falling off a chair hurt this much?"
As he tried to stand up, he forced his eyes open with great difficulty, rubbing the back of his head.
Suddenly, his eyes widened in horror, freezing him where he stood. There it was: a crimson moon hanging in the sky, visible directly through his room's window.
"What is that thing in the sky? Crimson?!"
He looked around, shivering, and found himself in an old, filthy room. There was a bunk bed made of cheap iron, a sturdy wooden desk, and to its right, a shelf lined with neatly arranged old books.
To the left, there was a classic western lamp and gray, cracked pipes blowing out hot air… The floor looked so ancient it could collapse at any moment.
"Where am I, for Heaven's sake?" Jin muttered in terror, as if he'd awakened in another hell.
"Did I transfer from my world to another?!"
"Just moments ago, I was trying to solve the case of a family of five who'd been murdered but with only one body found. Did overthinking and lack of sleep cause a spiritual reincarnation? Or did I die and wake up in another world?"
Jin tried to sort the events in his mind—but even his mind seemed to be struggling to comprehend this strange world.
He rose from the floor slowly, only to collapse again as his body trembled with fear. He grabbed his knees, shut his eyes, and tried to calm himself.
"Just a dream, just a dream… Yeah, just exhaustion."
He stood up again, staring at the crimson moon with trembling eyes.
"It's like this moon is watching me… like it's warning me about something."
Jin lowered his head slowly—and found a white paper stained with black ink, written in crimson letters.
"What language is this? Hermes? Or one of those extinct tongues?"
He tried to decipher what was on the paper—it was written in a strange script—until the letters seemed to unravel like grains of sand, reforming into words he could understand:
"Welcome, liar… everyone else avoided his cries except you."
Jin was stunned by this phrase. He placed his index finger on his chin and muttered:
"Who wrote this? Could it be the body's original owner?"
Lowering his hand, he touched his chest—and his expression changed when he saw the gaping hole inside him.
He froze in place, glancing around for a mirror to see what was happening—because now, he stood at the brink of madness.
He stepped toward the mirror, moving as if forced by some unseen hand. He looked into it, his expression tightening, as wave after wave of shock slammed into him.
His appearance was completely different from his old self.
His hair was short, black, messy. His eyes were a dark green. His face was pale, and black kohl streamed down his cheek.
He wore a wrinkled white shirt with black trousers. Jin slowly touched his own face, whispering:
"The reflection in this mirror… is that me?!"
Then he looked down at his chest, at the hole through which he could see the room behind him… until the flesh began to gather like a spider spinning silk, sealing the wound shut.
All of this happened right before Jin's eyes—he felt like crying from sheer terror. He placed his hand on the mirror, gasping for air.
Then a piercing headache struck him, like someone smashing a metal rod against his skull. He clutched his head with both hands as a deep, ominous voice echoed, feeding him new information:
"Neuvilette Sullivan, from the Kingdom of Lucia, on the continent of Askari. A detective, newly graduated from Oxford University. Twenty-four years old. His father missing. His mother a servant in the Church of the Hanging Death, whereabouts unknown—alive or dead."
"He has a younger sister studying traditional medicine. Both lived off their father's money, which was about to run out. Neuvilette was trying to find work to survive."
The headache faded, and Jin steadied himself slightly, but felt nauseous. He dragged the chair closer and sank into it to catch his breath, his voice trembling:
"Neuvilette… looks like that's the name of this body's owner."
He let out a bitter laugh and continued:
"What hell did this person live through—that now I'll be next to face it?"
He lowered his head, laughing like a madman, cursing himself:
"What sin did I commit to go from a comfortable life… to this nightmare? If only there were a way to change my fate, to return to my old life."
He raised his head slowly, laughing—then his laughter died, that hollow smile vanished, and he slumped onto the chair so hard that his head slammed against the desk.
From the shock that pulsed through his body, he didn't even feel the blood trickling from his head—or any pain at all. Because what he saw next was utterly unreal.
A man was crucified on the wall, bleeding from every inch of his body, a sword buried deep in his chest. The crimson moon hanging outside cast its light over the cross.
"Is this some demonic ritual?! Did the body's owner do this? Only monsters would do something like this."
Jin trembled in raw terror, struggling to steady his breath. In that state of daze, someone banged on the door so violently it seemed ready to shatter, a harsh voice roaring:
"Open the door, Mr. Neuvilette… we know you're in there."
Jin stared at the door, frozen with fear beyond words.
"Are they police? Could they have found out about this murder?"
"But I didn't do any of this… It was the body's owner. God, how am I supposed to explain this?"
"We know you're in there, Mr. Neuvilette, so kindly open this damned door before we show you something you won't like." The voice grew sharper, angrier.
Jin couldn't even stand—let alone walk over to open the door. Seconds later, the entire room turned red, like it was drenched in blood. Jin looked around, shivering.
A hand reached through the door—Jin stared at it, horrified. Then someone stepped through behind it, grabbed Jin by the throat, and slammed him against the wall, speaking in a cold tone:
"Did you think you were smarter than us? We are the Fools' Justice."