A young man awoke in a mansion so vast it felt endless. His name was Ryo, yet even he could not recall how he had arrived here.
On the desk before him lay a folded slip of paper. Two words were written in delicate cursive:
"Mr. Petunia."
"Hmmm… where am I? Don't tell me this is transmigration, just like the web novels I used to read," Ryo muttered, half-joking to himself.
The silence of the room pressed down on him. The air smelled faintly of wax and old wood, as if time itself had stopped breathing here. Heavy curtains framed tall windows, their fabric thick with dust, while faint rays of light broke through and painted pale stripes across the marbled floor.
Above him, a crystal chandelier hung like a frozen constellation, its candles unlit but glimmering faintly as if remembering the warmth of flames long gone.
Bookshelves stretched from floor to ceiling, their spines cracked with age, their shadows deep enough to swallow secrets whole. Every corner of the mansion spoke of elegance—velvet drapes, golden trims, carved furniture—but all of it felt abandoned, hollow, and strangely alive.
Then, a strange intuition whispered in his mind: Find a mirror.
Trusting the impulse, Ryo pulled open a drawer beside him. Inside, as if waiting for him, was a hand mirror.
His breath caught when he saw the reflection.
White hair that brushed his shoulders. A nobleman's robe in violet and white. Eyes that gleamed with an unnatural shade of purple.
"Who… is this person?" he whispered, staring at the stranger in the glass.
But there was no time to dwell on questions. He pushed himself to his feet, determined to explore beyond the mansion's walls. Perhaps the outside world would provide answers.
Gripping the handle of the enormous double doors, he pulled with all his strength—
—only for an unseen force to surge against him.
The mansion itself rejected him. The pull was so strong it hurled him backward, slamming him against the polished floor.
"What the hell is this?!" Ryo's voice trembled. "I… I can't leave this mansion!"
The grand chamber, once majestic, now loomed over him like a prison.
After several minutes of steady breathing, Ryo forced himself to calm down. Sitting and panicking would solve nothing. If he wanted answers, he had to search for them.
He began wandering through the mansion's endless halls, each step echoing against marble floors. Velvet curtains swayed faintly as if stirred by invisible hands. Portraits of stern-faced nobles glared down at him, their painted eyes following his every move.
Eventually, Ryo stopped before a massive window that stretched from floor to ceiling. He pulled the curtains aside—and his breath caught.
Outside was not the modern city he knew. Smoke rose from tall chimneys of factories. People in waistcoats and dresses hurried through cobblestone streets. A horse-drawn carriage rattled past, its wheels clattering, carrying a lady in a bonnet.
Judging by their fashion, this wasn't just another country. This was another era.
"This… this makes no sense," Ryo muttered, his voice shaking. "What the hell is going on?! I just want to talk to someone outside!"
Yet a strange thought pressed into his mind. A librarian… The words lingered, though he wasn't sure why. Was this who "Mr. Petunia" was meant to be?
Before he could think further—
Krrrrrr.
His stomach roared like a beast.
"…Seriously? Now? I'm trapped in a haunted mansion and my body wants food?" He rubbed his belly with an awkward laugh. "Fine. I admit it… I'm starving."
Just then, the air rippled. Strange glowing runes materialized around him, floating like fireflies. They pulsed with power, and in a blink, light burst in front of him.
With a deep thrum, a grand dining table appeared, draped in white silk.
"What the—? Magic?!" Ryo's eyes widened. "So… this world really has magic?!" His frustration briefly melted into excitement. "If there's magic, then maybe… maybe escaping this mansion will be even more interesting."
Before he could finish the thought, plates materialized on the table one after another. A perfectly seared steak that steamed with savory juices. A tall glass of red wine that shimmered like liquid ruby. A basket of warm bread rolls. Dishes of fruit, pastries, and snacks he hadn't tasted in years.
The aroma hit him all at once—rich, buttery, intoxicating. His empty stomach made the decision for him.
"This… this is definitely magic," he whispered, a grin spreading across his face.
Unable to resist, Ryo pulled out the heavy chair and sat at the table. The first bite of steak nearly made his eyes roll back. Tender, juicy, exploding with flavor. He washed it down with wine so smooth it warmed his chest instantly.
He laughed, half in disbelief. "If this is a prison… at least they know how to treat their prisoner well."
For a moment, panic and fear gave way to simple, human pleasure. The mansion might have been a cage, but tonight it fed him like a king.
The feast ended with Ryo leaning back in the velvet chair, patting his stomach in disbelief. For a moment, he almost forgot he was trapped in a cursed mansion.
Then—
Tok! Tok!
The deep knock echoed from the double doors.
"Mr. Petunia? Are you inside?" A rough, gravelly voice seeped through the wood.
Ryo froze. His mind raced back to the slip of paper. So… Mr. Petunia… that's me?
"T-T-then, wait a moment!" Ryo stammered, scrambling to his feet.
Before he could reach the door, it creaked open on its own.
A man stepped inside—a towering figure with a body of scars. One arm was made of iron, gleaming under the chandelier. His left eye was hidden beneath a leather eyepatch, and his presence radiated danger. At first glance, he looked like a criminal who had crawled out of a battlefield.
Yet his attire betrayed him: a coat marked with brass insignias, boots dusted by the streets outside. He was a man who knew the city.
"Come in," Ryo said carefully, forcing calm.
"Much obliged," the stranger replied, his voice low and harsh. "Word travels fast in Brasshaven. I was told there's someone here… someone skilled in sorcery. A friend of mine gave me this location."
Ryo forced a laugh, unsure. "Hahaha… you flatter me."
The man's single eye narrowed. "Let's get to the point. Mr. Petunia, I have a problem."
He stepped closer, the floor groaning beneath his boots. "I can't… level up."
Ryo blinked. Level… up?
The man tapped his chest with his iron fist. "Ah, where are my manners? The name's Garrick Crowe. Ex-mercenary. Warrior's Path."
At that moment, knowledge surged into Ryo's mind. It wasn't his own, yet it filled him as if the mansion itself whispered truths.
This world was divided into Paths. The Warrior's Path, the Mage's Path, and perhaps more hidden branches. Each Path had nine stages. The weak began as Novices at Rank Nine, climbing step by step.
But the apex… Rank One. Few ever reached it.
Those who did were called Primarchs—beings who stood above nations, legends who shaped the world itself.
Ryo's heart pounded. Primarchs? Warriors? Levels? This wasn't just another world. It was a world of systems, rules, and powers straight out of the novels he used to read.
And now, Garrick Crowe was staring at him as if he, "Mr. Petunia," was the only one who could solve the unsolvable.