I am exhausted, so tired...
I've been an escape artist for a while, from working in the circus to hosting my very own show. It's been a journey, but now it's over.
My show is gone, no one wants to watch it anymore. No sponsors, no fans left.
I feel dead inside.
All I want is to sleep.
My house is in the eastern block. There have been robberies recently. I knew it was unsafe, but I had no choice. Living like this, I feel like a pest. I only have a home, and even that doesn't feel safe.
I lay my head on the bed as soon as I enter the room. I just want to sleep, dream sweetly, and never wake up again.
zzzZZZZZ....
"Damien Goldsworth! Wake up!"
I hear an unfamiliar voice shouting a name I don't recognize. Am I being robbed? I'm not sure. Should I get up to see who it is? I don't care. Let them take whatever they want, I have nothing anyway.
Suddenly, I see a white window, a vision unfolding before my eyes—it was of someone else, a boy with golden hair and amber eyes, playing happily in the garden. Birds chirped, bugs hopped from one leaflet to another, the wind blew gently, and the sky was covered with clouds. It was soothing. Suddenly, the boy fell, his white gown stained red as the blood seeped into the grass below. The entire window surged with crimson red, but just as quickly as it appeared, it faded away.
A voice echoed in my head, "Save me!"
I opened my eyes and found myself in a completely different place, a spacious room with pristine white floors, a king-size bed, and exquisite furniture. Beside me stood a beautiful woman in her 40s, dressed in a maid's uniform.
She said, "Master, are you alright?"
Her gaze avoided mine, but I instinctively knew her words were meant for me.
Why, I wondered. Why am I here, and where is this place? I wanted to ask her, but before I could, I felt something strange. I was changed—my hands grew smaller, my legs too, and my hair became long and blonde. Driven by curiosity, I wanted to rush to the mirror tucked in the corner near the large window. As my eyes swept past the windows, the woman walked toward them and drew back the curtains. The sudden burst of bright light forced me to shut my eyes tightly.
"Good morning, Master Damien."
Just as those words infiltrated my ears, I saw it, the memories that weren't my own, but belong to this body I possess.
Damien Goldsworth, the youngest son of Baron Goldstine Goldsworth, was a notorious troublemaker. He constantly harassed the maid, lazed around all day, and lacked both talent and intelligence. Hated by everyone in the household, even the butler went out of his way to avoid him.
Liked by nobody, hated by everybody...
And his fate was sealed; he was to die...
The earlier scene was of a little boy wandering into the garden, playing. But he fell—was it an accident or a planned murder? I don't know. But I have to figure it out, because now I share the same fate.
...
The maid helped me get dressed, and though I wanted to avoid being treated like a child, I reluctantly played along to avoid raising any suspicion. It was an embarrassing experience I vowed never to repeat.
Afterward, I went to the garden, carefully tiptoeing along the edges, but found no one. With my classes about to start, I returned inside. Deep in thought, I soon realized I was standing before the room. Opposite the door stood Mrs Penelope Brinette, a woman with striking blue eyes and jet-black hair. In the sunlight, a few strands gleamed with a dark blue tint, though her hair appeared entirely black in the shade.
She might have been the most gorgeous woman I had ever laid eyes on. As the door opened, she welcomed me with a smile, more beautiful than Damien's memory could justify. I was flustered at first sight but managed to keep my composure.
She gestured for me to take a seat, and as she began the class, I realized she was my history teacher, a renowned professor at Cantienello Royal University. The youngest professor ever recorded, she possessed both the charm and the demeanor of a scholar. I asked a few questions to show I was listening, and she seemed astonished to see me actively participating.
It can't be said that I didn't anticipate her reaction. Mesmerized by her beauty, I simply wanted a little of her attention, so I did what Damien never would.
She answers my question with a smile, perhaps pleased to see her pupil finally showing some interest.
I sigh inwardly, hoping she isn't my killer.
After classes ended, I went to check on the garden again. I'm not sure why, but death doesn't scare me anymore. I know I wanted to avoid being killed, but for some reason, the garden draws me in, I want to play there.
The sun was still up. I don't know when Damien will die, but when he did, the sky was clear, the sun hanging high at midday. If a murder were to happen, it would be within my calculations, or so I thought.
I avoided playing until the late afternoon. Soon, the sun would dip below the horizon, leaving darkness behind, and the waiting was over. The impending death had been dealt with.
I walked back to my room, my maid accompanying me. She was behind me; I could hear her footsteps as we neared my room around the corner.
Suddenly, it stopped.... her footsteps...
I wanted to turn back, but I didn't need to. My vision turned, dragging the world behind me into view. My head lolled forward with a sickening weight *thud*, and my eyes locked on the gory stump of a decapitated body..... my body. Behind it, a man in black clutched a blood-wet axe, its edge dripping crimson. My sight trembled, colors smearing into darkness as consciousness began to tear away…
"First Death"
The white window appeared again, displaying a counter... a tally of my deaths. Below it, something was written in small text. I squinted to make out the words, and they were...