Chapter One: Human Relationships are an Illusion
"That's weird..."
These words were the first to escape my lips after nearly twenty minutes of silence, a silence that weighed so heavily on the air around me that I could almost hear my heart pounding like a hammer against the walls of my chest. I wasn't sure if I'd actually said them out loud or if they had merely transcended the confines of my troubled mind, but I immediately realized they were the closest expression to what was raging inside me.
My name... or so I remember, is Jackie Fortnight. Surprisingly, I didn't find myself in my home, nor in any place familiar to my short or long memory. When I opened my eyes, I found myself surrounded by towering walls covered in stunning carvings and ornaments. I was standing in the middle of a room that could only be described as regal. Everything exuded grandeur and luxury: the heavy velvet curtains in a dark crimson hue hung lazily on either side of the high windows; the shiny floor that reflected the dim lights filtering in from the brass sconces scattered along the walls; the furniture crafted with extreme precision from dark, polished wood, adorned with delicate gilding. The whole scene was like a page folded from an old book about Victorian London.
As I contemplated the room's design, memories of my readings and mental images of that era assailed me: a mixture of dignity, austerity, and reserved elegance. Every detail of the space imposed on me a sense of majestic grandeur, as if I were merely an intruder in a living museum.
My gaze was caught by a huge mirror, mounted in an ornate frame, standing opposite the high bed with its embroidered covers. I approached it hesitantly, something inside me telling me the reflection would be anything but ordinary. I stood before it, and suddenly I saw a face I knew so well, yet knew nothing about. It was my face, or at least what was supposed to be my face.
I stared for a long time at the young man staring back at me from behind the glass: delicate, taut features, flawless white skin, blond hair flowing loosely over his shoulders, and clear blue eyes like the surface of a calm sea under the moonlight. His face was impassive, devoid of any emotion, more like a beautiful mask or a carefully captured image from an old oil painting. The magic of his beauty was not just in his handsomeness, but in the cold mystery that surrounded him.
My breath caught. That young man... it was me. Yes, it was me, but not the same me I'd known. In my previous life, my hair had been dark black, tinged with blue in the daylight, and my eyes had been dark brown, framed by dark circles. There was no resemblance between them and this new face except for the broad lines that framed my features. That was the first shock.
The very next moment, a soft knock broke my silence and my reverie. The sound was clear, steady, and coming from the direction of the door. I imagined it was a polite, carefully deliberate knock. I froze, my heart pounding.
Then a soft female voice echoed from behind the door:
"Hello, sir, are you awake? It's Emily... George, the butler, sent me. I hope you'll open the door."
Her voice was sweet, soft, with a childlike ring to it, yet full of respect and dignity. I listened, entranced, not knowing how to respond. I had never heard the name "Emily" before in my life, yet it sounded familiar, as if I had come across it between the pages of a novel.
New threads of perception began to weave themselves within me. Yes... what had happened must have been a transition, or rather, a transmigration to another world. The strange thing was that the idea didn't frighten me as much as it excited me. I'd always been obsessed with Japanese mythology, comics, and manga, and I'd spent my childhood and adolescence chasing their imaginative worlds. Perhaps that's why adjusting to my new situation seemed less daunting than I'd expected. But even so, a disturbing question crept into my mind: What would happen if people here discovered that I wasn't the original owner of this body, but an intruder who'd taken its place? What would their reaction be? Would they consider me a monster? A demon? Or would it lead me to an unknown fate?
My assumptions were rapidly unraveling, but the simple evidence before me clearly indicated that I was in a huge mansion, perhaps Victorian or similar. The girl behind the door addressed me with respect and politeness, implying that I was not just an ordinary guest, but perhaps a lord of some importance. The only logical possibility: I was the heir to a noble family, or at least that my social status exceeded theirs.
I didn't think for long. I coughed lightly, not because my throat was tight, but as a way to kill the tension that had overwhelmed me. Then I raised my voice just enough for her to hear:
"Come in, miss."
The door creaked as it slowly opened, its echo reverberating through the room as if I were hearing a rustle from another time. The girl entered with measured steps. She was wearing a black and white outfit usually only seen in drawings or fantasy stories; the maid outfit as depicted in Japanese literature and anime. I looked up at her, captivated by the sight. Her hair was dark blue, flowing gently around her shoulders, and her eyes were a bright green, like emeralds in the dim light. She looked delicate, but her features held remnants of hardness and hidden fear.
I felt internally confused and said to myself, "She's really cute." Yet I had no desire to approach her. In my previous life, I had always been an introverted person, preferring solitude to crowds, and relishing isolation more than any relationship that might restrict my freedom. I had never believed in relationships, and I saw them only as a shackle around the neck of human freedom. So the girl was nothing more than part of the scene for me.
She was carrying a shiny silver tray on which was a teapot made of fine glass, intricately engraved, and surrounded by several small cups carefully arranged. Beside it lay a small box containing a white powder, which I immediately recognized as sugar. She advanced cautiously, placing one foot in front of the other as if she were walking on uncharted territory. It was clear she was watching my reaction, anticipating any action I might take.
In the room was a low table in front of a comfortable sofa. She placed the tray on it calmly, then bowed gracefully and said:
"I apologize for being late, young sir. I hope I have not been negligent in serving you."
The situation shook me a little. It wasn't just because of her apologetic tone, but because the entire scene brought back an image I'd read in a Japanese manga. It was as if the book I'd been reading the day before had suddenly opened and become a tangible reality around me.
I approached the chair in front of the table. Strangely, my body moved as if an invisible force was guiding it. I sat with measured grace, my legs in the optimal position, my shoulders slumping effortlessly onto the chair. I felt like I was nothing more than a puppet being moved by invisible hands, delicate wires controlling my every movement and placing me in the "perfect" position.
After I sat down, a short hum escaped me, as if I were contemplating something important. Emily remained bent over in front of me, never raising her eyes from the ground, completely devoted to her role as a humble servant. And here the strange feeling was renewed: "I've lived this scene before... I've read it and seen it between the pages of a story."
Then, suddenly, something inexplicable to a normal mind appeared before my eyes: a luminous blue screen, floating in space, bearing strange words in a language I strangely understood. It was familiar, as if I had been waiting for it all along. My breathing quickened, but strangely, I remained calm deep inside, as if my soul had been expecting this.
I read the letter:
---
Name: Aster de Phoenix
Affiliation: Son of the Phoenix Family, descendant of the Marquis of the Immortal Nova Kron Empire of the Eternal Continent.
Status: Second son of the Marquis Alexandre de Viennex.
Capabilities:
Lightning Magic - Compatibility Rate: 60%
Wind Magic - Compatibility Rate: 30%
Water Magic - Compatibility Rate: 30%
Race: Phoenix Blood (Status: Deactivated).
---
I swallowed slowly. Inwardly, I muttered, "You were right... There's a system, or perhaps a mysterious program, or perhaps an invisible hand watching me and feeding me information. I don't know the source yet, but I'll find out the truth sooner or later."
I reached for the cup into which Emily had poured the tea. Steam rose from the dark liquid, mingling with a fresh, fragrant scent like wild herbs mixed with jasmine. I lifted the cup between my fingers and watched the light reflect off its surface, like a still lake quivering with every slight movement. I gently stirred the liquid, my thoughts moving with it in intertwined circles.
I glanced at Emily out of the corner of my eye. At the same moment, the blue screen in front of me changed to display new information:
---
Personal Information: Emily Dokie
Daughter of a Count-ranked branch family from the Southern Immortal Lands.
After her entire family was killed and her inheritance was lost, she was adopted by the Marquis Phoenix family to become Esther de Phoenix's personal maid.
Note - Relationship level: 20%
Her relationship with you is purely business as a maid.
She carries out her orders carefully, but she shows no personal interest in you and sees you as nothing more than her master.
---
A calm smile spread across my lips, and I felt satisfied with myself. I said to myself, "Interesting. As I expected, human relationships are nothing but illusions, a false veneer that quickly evaporates in the face of the facts. I was never wrong to think they weren't worth the effort."
My memories as an orphan, as a child raised far from any family warmth, now seemed like a secret weapon that gave me the ability to see the characters around me without becoming attached to them. Yet, I couldn't ignore a new shock when I read her name carefully: "Emily Dookie"... The name was eerily familiar. Yes! I'd read it before.
My eyes widened in surprise, and a faint smile trembled across my face, like a fleeting, fleeting specter. A flash of memory came back to me: Emily had been a prominent character in a novel I'd read not long before, a novel called "Heroes of the Forsaken Kingdom."
The events flowed through my head. I remembered how the novel began: a young village hero's village is destroyed by demons after a magical portal appears. Then he's transferred to the Academy of Ultimate Power, the academy that governs the world of "Heroes of the Forsaken Kingdom." And there... yes, Emily Doki was one of the main heroines of the story, known by the nickname: "The White Ice Magician."
My soul shuddered with astonishment. If I was truly inside this novel, every step I took would be fraught with danger.
I finished drinking my tea quietly, then turned to her and ordered her to leave. She obeyed without hesitation, and withdrew with light steps until the door closed behind her. I was left alone in the room, the silence engulfing me once again.
I walked over to the large desk in the corner of the room. On it were stacked numerous books and large, thick-bound volumes. I stood in front of it, placed my hand on one of the books, and felt its coldness beneath my fingers. I raised my head to the ornately decorated ceiling, my eyes taking on an unfamiliar harshness, as if ice were invading my depths. I muttered in a hoarse voice:
"I will now make sure... if I am really in this story. If I am destined to live inside it, then I must prepare... because death could come at any moment."
---
In a moment, I was sitting on a sturdy chair in front of an elegant desk. From the first glance, it appeared to me like a rare masterpiece, carefully crafted only for princes or the extremely wealthy, whom we used to read about in old fairy tales. The desk's surface glinted in the light pouring in from a tall window decorated with thick curtains. The wood bore a dark hue that suggested antiquity and solidity, as if the craftsmen who had crafted it had wanted to engrave into it a sense of luxury and prestige combined. There was no doubt that it was nothing ordinary; it was made of rare materials, perhaps brought from distant places known only to travelers or kings.
I paused for a moment to consider the nature of this office and its intricate details, and averted my gaze, trying to grasp what was more important and profound. Something else was imposing itself on me, something that held my attention even more strongly: the books. They were lined up in front of me, some stacked on top of each other, others carefully arranged on side shelves, as if waiting for someone to reach out. This room was no ordinary room; it was surprisingly elegant, organized in such a meticulous manner that it made me feel for a moment that I wasn't in a real place, but in a dream whose details had been crafted to seduce me with magic and beauty. Every corner of the room bore witness to that dazzling arrangement that surpassed all expectations.
Although the entire scene was captivating, a strange feeling began to weigh down my soul. An inner whisper kept repeating that this was all just a dream, that I would wake up at any moment to find myself back in my cramped room, a gloomy room in a dilapidated apartment no bigger than an average-sized flat, located in a run-down neighborhood, where the noise of daily life swallowed up any attempt at calm. It was as if my presence here was just a flash, a mirage that would soon dissipate.
Yet this sense of falsity didn't dispel the dread of the situation. On the contrary, it deepened an indescribable pain within me. My very soul seemed to be aching simply from knowing so many things I shouldn't have. Perhaps it was because I realized I was inside a novel, that I knew events that would come later, that I was trapped by a foreknowledge that made returning to a normal life a distant dream. My desire to return to my old world, with my weakness and ordinariness, wasn't just a whim; it was stronger than anything else.
I stared at the books before me. They weren't ordinary books, but magical ones, their titles inscribed with mysterious symbols, their letters glowing faintly. I opened some of them cautiously, amazed that I, or rather, this body I now inhabited, had the ability to read names and understand the contents as if the language had been engraved within me since birth. Even I was amazed at the ease of that understanding. The matter grew stranger with every moment: to be transported into the world of a novel was a wondrous thing in itself, but to also possess knowledge that had never existed before, knowledge written in these books, was beyond imagination. It wasn't the result of familiar technology or technique, but rather the result of a mysterious magical pact.
Aster—the name this body had before me—had never been an emotional person. Rather, he was rational, scientific, and inclined toward cold analysis. An introverted, sparsely empathetic person, more inclined toward isolation than openness. His presence, or rather my presence through him, in this place filled him with a deep, unquenchable suspicion, a suspicion that burrowed deep into his heart and was irresistible. Nevertheless, he found no choice but to try to analyze the situation and absorb it as best he could, as if his old rationality were his last resort.
As I contemplated the place, I opened one of the small drawers in the desk. There I found a small metal badge gleaming in the light. This badge bore the academy's inscription, "Academy of Absolute Power." It didn't take long for me to remember that this badge belonged to students affiliated with that academy. I held it between my fingers and studied it for a long time. It had only one star on it. This meant that I, or this body I inhabited, was a first-year student.
A lot of information I had read in the novel flooded my mind. Students at this academy reside there for four years, starting at the age of sixteen and continuing through twenty. Only nobles are allowed to return to their families for official ceremonies or major occasions within aristocratic society. The rest remain within the walls of the academy, where life is governed by strict rules.
It wasn't difficult to deduce what stage I was in now. A one-star badge meant I was in my first year, and school probably hadn't started yet. I opened some books on the table to check their condition. As I expected, they had never been opened before; Aster, the original body's owner, seemed to have paid them no attention. The pages were pristine, the letters untouched.
My memory of the novel I had read in my old world wasn't complete. It was a bit fuzzy, perhaps because I had only recently finished reading it. But even so, there were a few names I hadn't forgotten, names that stuck in my mind. Among them was "Emily Dookie."
Emily… I remembered her well. A girl from Count Duque's family. Her father and mother had died fighting demons that had infiltrated from the lower continent. Count Duque's family was responsible for defending the empire's borders, along with the other fifty count families scattered around the empire's edges, who all formed the shield that protected it from danger.
I sighed deeply as I recalled the story. Her father had been killed by a high-ranking demon, a demon that no one had been able to stop in time. As a result, the Emperor had issued a harsh decree stripping the Duque family of their title of Count, their standing crumbled, and Emily suddenly became just an ordinary girl with no support.
At that moment, Aster's father, the father of this body, took her under his wing, trained her, and nurtured her. But what seemed at the time a noble act filled with compassion was in fact the beginning of a coming catastrophe. Little did he know, he had brought the seed of destruction to the Phoenix family. In the future, according to what I know from the novel, Emily would be the cause of this family's collapse.
She was a girl with wild ambitions, crazy about her dreams, and unwavering in her resolve. Her presence in this family wasn't out of gratitude, but rather because she needed temporary support. She was forced to stay here only because she needed support to help her enter the academy. Entering the academy was a prerequisite for becoming a Knight, a special rank attained only by the naturally gifted. Only Knights could, upon graduation, receive an official title within the empire.
All these details were just scattered fragments I remembered from the novel, vague images, but enough to make me nervous. Aster—or I now—wasn't mentioned in the original novel, or perhaps he didn't play a prominent role that stuck in my mind. This ambiguity in itself was confusing, making me wonder if my presence in this body would alter the course of events I knew.
Hours passed as I was immersed in the books. I opened their pages one by one, reading the lines with an eye filled with curiosity and fear at the same time. These books were keys to understanding this new world, to understanding its rules, its magic, its history, and its secrets. And the more I delved into them, the heavier the feeling that suffocated my heart grew. A feeling that compelled me to delve deeper, as if an invisible force was compelling me to do so.
I missed my old world. The truth is, there was nothing I missed there. I had no parents or family; I was just another orphan living in a greedy, unforgiving world. Yet that world—in all its cruelty—was familiar. It was at least understandable to me. Here, however, the land itself seemed to hold a disastrous portent.
Surviving to the end of this novel may be the most difficult task I will ever face in my entire life. In my old world, survival was simply a struggle against poverty and betrayal. Here, survival means facing monsters, demons, conspiracies, and a preordained end.
Yet inside, I held on to a faint thread of hope. Maybe, just maybe, I could find in this universe an opportunity I hadn't found in my previous world. A chance to truly live, not be crushed under the weight of a merciless society. Yet this distant promise didn't alleviate the dread of the moment. All I could do was keep reading, keep understanding, and keep trying to prepare for the unknown fate that awaited me.
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