Chapter 4
[Embercrown 6th (6/8), Year 1356 of the Arcane Calendar]
| 2:37 AM |
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[ Lunthaler manor, Kyzens room]
After dinner, I washed my hands in the porcelain finger bowl offered by the maids and retreated to my chambers.
Thud. The door clicked shut behind me, the sound swallowed by the heavy silence of the chamber. I flung myself onto the bed, the downy coverlet puffing like a cloud under my weight, and rolled onto my back, staring at the wealth that screamed louder than a London cabbie's horn.
It was time to chart my path forward, to claw through the fog of this transmigration nightmare and find answers. I needed to document everything I knew, to hunt for any thread linking this world to mine. With over a week before departing for Celestara Academy, I resolved to spend my days delving into this world's history and seeking any threads connecting it to mine.
A sudden spark hit me, sharp as a snap of static. A diary. I should start one and make entries whenever I can. It's the least I could do if, by some twist of luck, I'm sent back, perhaps because the universe ever decided to fix its cosmic glitch and boot me back to Earth. I laughed, the sound echoing faintly in the quiet room.
I sat up, the bed creaking softly under my weight, and grabbed a quill. Scratch, scratch. The nib rasped against the paper as I began to write, the ink flowing as smoothly as Kyzen's aristocratic lilt. My first entry was simple, raw: in English.
I paused, the quill hovering, a drop of ink trembling at its tip. Drip. It splattered onto the page, a dark blot like the fear pooling in my chest. The thought of never seeing my family again clawed at me, sharp and relentless. I shook it off, forcing my hand to move again. Focus, Oliver. I needed to catalog what I knew about this world—Kyzen's memories were a jumbled mess, like a puzzle dumped on the floor, but they were my only map.
Scritch. The quill danced as I jotted down fragments: the Fifteen Gods, the Veyl Organ, the three kingdoms—Aserath, Zyvaris, Solmordis. The Inheritors, mortals touched by divine power. Celestara Academy, where I'd soon be thrown into the deep end. Each word felt like carving a foothold in a cliff face, a way to anchor myself in this alien world. But the weight of it all pressed harder, the air growing thick as if the tapestries themselves were closing in.
Knock, knock.
A sharp rap at the door jolted me, the quill skittering across the page. Damn it. I set it down, heart thumping like a drum. "Enter," I called, slipping into Kyzen's polished tone without thinking. Muscle memory was a hell of a thing.
Anna slipped in, her apron crisp despite the day's work, a tray of tea balanced in her hands. Clink. The porcelain rattled softly as she set it on the desk, the steam curling like a lazy spirit. "Young Master, I thought you might need refreshment," she said, her voice warm but tinged with that ever-present deference. Her eyes flicked to the journal, curiosity flickering, but she didn't pry.
Her expression shifted, wilting into something mournful. "Young Master, the barber will come tomorrow and attend to you before your bath," she said, her voice flat and lifeless, like she was announcing a funeral. Geez, she loves my hair, doesn't she?
"Thank you, Anna," I said, keeping my tone light to counter her gloom. "You're a lifesaver."
She nodded her head like a marionette doll and left the room.
"Okay, I guess I'll head to the library and see what I can find about anything mentioning different worlds,"
I muttered, my voice barely cutting through
the eerie kzz... artifa—kzz...Stupid...—shhhh...
buzzing in my ears. The sounds were growing more frequent, like a radio stuck between stations, spitting static. But the curses? Oh, those came through crystal clear, slicing the static like a sassy knife. Stupid... Really?
from the day i transmigated i started hearing these stange murmurs.
Artif... artifact? The word snagged in my mind. Ghosts or malicious spirits? No, this felt... stranger, like a glitch in the fabric of this world, whispering secrets I couldn't yet grasp. Kyzen's memories hinted at ghosts and evil spirits, drawn toDread—a thick, concept/substance that hung in cursed places—but this didn't feel malevolent. Just... wrong.
I shook my head, the white ponytail swishing against my neck with a soft flick. No use chasing riddles in the air. I had to protect the diary—it was my anchor, proof that Oliver still existed beneath Kyzen's skin. No one can find it. The maids scoured this room like hawks, polishing every surface to a gleam, but Kyzen's memories swore they'd never touch my private things. Anna and Charles were loyal; their respect for the Young Master practically woven into their every bow.
But it wasn't them I was worried about. Diana—had a knack for poking around when she thought I was "overthinking" again, and the twins, Luca and Lisa, were nosy little whirlwinds who'd dig through my stuff just for a laugh.
Scritch. I yanked open the desk drawer, the wood groaning with a low creak, and slid the leather-bound journal inside, burying it under a pile of parchment. Not ideal, I thought, brow furrowing. Gotta find a better hiding spot soon. For now, it'd have to do
Thankfully, Lena's not here right now, I thought with a relieved sigh.
I snatched the pocket watch from the nightstand, its tick, tick, tick a steady pulse against the chaos in my head. The library was my next step—some dusty tome might hold clues about other worlds, about transmigration, about whatever force dragged me here. Clink.
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[ Lunthaler manor, library]
Slurp. I took a sip of the tea Charles had brought, the warm, honeyed flavor soothing my nerves as I leaned back in the plush library chair.
Through the ripples forming on the tea's surface, I caught my reflection—my face with the new haircut, so different from the familiar style I'd known back home.
The barber who came was a craftsman exclusive to nobles; at the beginning, I just wanted a simple cut that would shorten the long hair, which reached below my shoulders to the back.
Then I thought Anna was right; this hair is too good to be wasted.
I needed to look good; I needed to be better than everyone. Ego took over me, and the final thought I needed to make even those who were worshiped like K-pop idols here look at me in awe.
Since the barber knew his work, I trusted and told him to choose an appropriate style; he gave his word and agreed, but the soft, silvery-white waves now framing my face felt actually too good, making me jealous thinking about my looks as Oliver.
Slurp
"It's been three days in the library, and I'm finally starting to get a grip on this world," I thought, glancing at Charles, who sat beside me, nose buried in a mystery novel, its leather cover worn from countless readings.
Normally, servants weren't allowed to lounge in the library like this, but I'd waved off the rules with a casual, "Relax, read something." Kyzen's authority was handy for bending manor traditions, though Calix and Diana didn't exactly disapprove—they were sticklers for order, not tyrants. Rules, they'd always said, kept the manor's chaos in check.
The library was a treasure trove, shelves groaning under the weight of the many books, some of their spines glinting with gold leaf in the soft glow of crystal lanterns. No direct mentions of other worlds, but I'd found a dusty book on realms—Spirit Realm, Mortal Realm, Divine Realms, and more—each described in cryptic prose that raised more questions than answers.
"Young Master, are you there?" Anna's voice echoed through the library. Her eyes, usually sharp with focus, widened as they landed on Charles, who was oblivious, lost in his novel's pages. Oh-ho, I thought, catching the way her gaze softened, a flush creeping up her cheeks. Anna's had a crush on Charles since forever, according to Kyzen's memories—Charles, dense as a black hole, never noticed. I mused, stifling a grin.
Her gaze snapped back to me, her flustered expression flickering like a candle in the wind. She hesitated, fingers fidgeting with the edge of her apron. "Young Master, Lord Calix and Lady Diana have requested your presence in the gardens," she said, her words cautious.
"Right now?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Well..." She twisted the apron harder, the fabric practically whimpering. "Yes, do you want to go later? I will get relay "
Don't sweat it," I cut in gently, flashing a reassuring smile. "You're an excellent maid—more like a reliable big sister, honestly. You should own that confidence. Take a break, grab a book, and relax here. I give you permission."
Anna's posture snapped straight, a spark of hope igniting in her eyes, banishing the nervous flush. Her face lit up like a lantern, glowing with newfound energy. "Thank you, Young Master!" she chirped, her voice practically chirping as she gave a quick curtsy.
Swish. I set the teacup down with a gentle clank, already mentally bracing for whatever the gardens—and Calix and Diana—had in store.
A summons to the garden sent a flicker of unease crackling through me, like a snap of a breaking twig. Now then... I rose from the library chair, smoothing the crisp folds of my tunic with a soft swish. Best not keep Calix and Diana waiting—nobles took punctuality as seriously as their precious rules for order.
But why the sudden call? Probably just routine family matters... or was it? A cold thought hit me like a whack to the chest. Had I been acting too unlike Kyzen? My fingers curled into tight fists, nails digging into my palms, before I forced them to unclench with a shaky huff. No—panic will only breed suspicion.
A few minutes of focused breathing later, my furrowed brows eased, the tension melting like ice under a warm sun. Yeah, this'll be good enough, I thought, steadying myself with a final deep exhale. Time to face the gardens—and whatever Calix and Diana had planned.
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[ Lunthaler manor, Garden]
The garden air hung thick with the sweet scent of roses, their petals whispering with a soft swish in the breeze. Beneath an ivory canopy, Calix and Diana sat at a wrought-iron table, their postures relaxed yet their eyes sharp as daggers. Sunlight filtered through the fabric above, casting flickering patterns across their faces like a dancing glow.
"You don't seem yourself these days, Kyzen," Calix said, swirling his tea with a deliberate clink of the spoon, his voice calm but piercing.
The few days in Kyven's skin had taught me enough to spin a plausible half-truth. With practiced ease, I let out a nervous chuckle, the sound catching like a hic in my throat.
"I suppose I'm not entirely fine. The thought of... seeing my fiancée again at Celestara has me on edge."
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[Spirit realm, hall of thrones]
"Cornelius had awakened", a short figure named Arissa declared, her face concealed behind a smooth mask with no features or holes, yet her gaze seemed to pierce through it with eerie clarity. The other girl, seated in robes matching Cornelius's, spoke first.
"Yes, Arissa, our brother has resurrected."
Arissa turned to the girl beside her to the right, clad in robes. "And when I meet him, can I beat him once, please, as your only contractor?" she asked, her voice laced with curiosity.
Then, Arissa shifted her gaze to the other pair—a man in a gentleman's uniform with a mask identical to hers, seated alongside his silent partner.
The man remained quiet, his presence heavy with foresight. This matches the future I saw. It's about his time, he thought, his mind a silent echo.
"I will tell you one thing," he finally said, his voice low and deliberate. "He might be an ally or turn out to be a foe. I cannot tell when the time will come for you to make a decision. Act too soon or too late, and he might prove dangerous. He is ignorant of this world."
"I cannot disclose more," he added, his tone final.
This stupid Scoryn always giving vague answers—I bet he loves confusing people, I fumed inwardly. But I knew the reason: some knowledge was not meant to be known by others, but he was an exception to that.his bloodline ability doesn't allow him to disclose it.
If he tries to tell, the penalty would be something worse than his death.
His arrival marks the possible beginning of the final era. I cannot explain what I mean to say.
Arissa didn't understand the words, but their weight settled in her chest like a stone.
| Diary entries |
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Embercrown 6th, Year 1356.
I'm Oliver, not Kyzen. I don't know how I got here, but I'm stuck in his body, his life. If I'm ever going back, this diary is for you, assuming you can read English from the memories I possess of your body.
I need to figure out what happened—and why. Gods are real here. Magic's real. I'm not dreaming. This is my new reality, and I hate it. But I'll fight to understand it. For Mum, Dad, Evie... I'll find a way.
The thing is, if I'm to find that way, I must piece together what happened to me. The only memory I can cling to is the strange weather—thunder rolling like a drum, skies churning with unnatural hues—when I was visiting Stonehenge. But there's a gap, a shadow where something important lurks. I feel like I forgot something Dad gave me.
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Embercrown 8th, Year 1356.
I'm relearning the language from the basics. It seems multiple tongues weave through the empire—one for each kingdom—but one stands above them all as the major language, Keth. From Kyven's memories, it was a breeze to pick up, master in just a few hours, his mind soaking it up like a sponge. The memories are settling now, less a chaotic storm and more a gentle tide, giving me a clearer grasp of this world's words.
Today, I taught Luca and Lisa how to climb trees, a small rebellion against this stuffy noble life. Luca scaled the branches with a determined scowl, trying to impress me with his newfound toughness, while Lisa—oh, she tumbled down hard, scraping her knees on the rough bark. But she didn't cry, didn't quit. She dusted herself off, set her jaw, and climbed again, her little hands gripping the trunk with fierce resolve. She's a resilient one, that girl—stubborn as a mule yet brimming with heart. I couldn't help but grin, seeing her grit mirror my fight to adapt here. Luca cheered her on, his tough act softening into a proud brother's smile, and for a moment, this borrowed family felt a bit like mine.
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