He made an effort to speak once more, his tongue feeling thick and foreign in his mouth. "Who—"
Yet, before the words left his lips, the other side of his mouth was already speaking. "—why can't I move my—"
Their voices crashed into each other, producing a sound somewhere between a cough and a groan. (though it bore the weight of both).
Afterward, there was complete silence. The only sound was the distant dripping of water and the faint, mournful cries of other prisoners somewhere out there in the darkness.
Jimmy sensed the presence by now. However, not as an external entity, rather it was a second consciousness living beside his own, like two tenants living in a single cramped apartment.
For Jimmy, the sensation was invasive and claustrophobic at the same time
A voice spoke, but not from the mouth; rather, it spoke inside his head.
"Well," the voice remarked. "This is new."
Jimmy's mind went blank with incomprehension.
Someone had just spoken to… me? Inside my own head? That wasn't possible. That wasn't—
"I can hear you thinking," It was male, probably about his age or older, and it had that controlled inflection of someone who was used to keeping calm during a crisis. "Tch! You're panicking. Stop. It isn't helpful."
Who… Who the fuck are you? Jimmy thought in his mind.
"I was going to ask you the same thing."
Then a short moment of silence stretched between them. Jimmy tried to process all of it, though he knew that the other person could hear his thoughts clearly.
During the silence, he sensed the body was breathing on its own, and he couldn't regulate the breathing, which made it obvious that whoever else was inside the body with him was doing that. The realization sent a fresh wave of unease through him—he couldn't even control his own breathing.
My name is Jimmy, he finally thought, Jimmy Morgan. I… I was in a forest. I think I died. And now I'm… where am I?
There was a further break, then: "You died. Yes. So, did I." The voice was quiet for a moment, and Jimmy could sense that the other presence was calculating. "My name is Itsuki. Itsuki Enatsu. And we're in a bad place."
What do you mean we? Why are you in my—
"It's not your head," Itsuki interrupted. "I've been here for six months. This is my body."
Six months? What are you talking about? I just woke up here.
"Yes. Just now. I felt you arrive." Something was unsettling in how casually Itsuki said it, as if feeling another consciousness invade his body was merely an inconvenience.
Jimmy tried moving his arm again; this time, it did move—but only the left one. He lifted it up in the darkness and examined it. It was muscular, though not huge, but then again, as far as he could remember, he'd never had a muscular arm. He touched his face and found there was some facial hair there—something else he'd never had. He turned his hand out to his hair and felt it was long and flowing. His hair was long enough now to reach his shoulders, whereas previously it had never been that long.
But when he tried to move his right arm, the one still resting against the cold stone floor, nothing happened. The limb remained as unresponsive as a piece of wood.
"Tch! Don't," Itsuki said. "That's mine."
Yours? What the fuck does that mean, that's yours?
"The right side. I can control the right side of this body. You apparently seem to have the left. I don't know how or why. But if you try to control my side again, we're going to have a problem."
This can't be happening, Jimmy thought. This is insane. I'm insane. I'm dreaming, or I'm dead, or I'm—
"You're not insane, nor are you dreaming. You're dead, yes, but that doesn't matter here."
He continued:
"We're in Eidengarde. It's a prison, as you can see. And we need to figure out how this happened because I've been planning my survival very carefully for six months, and you just complicated everything."
Survival? What—
"Be quiet for a second. Let me think."
And Jimmy, too bewildered and puzzled to protest, did.
The first rule of their shared existence, Jimmy learned, was that fighting for control was exhausting.
He'd tried it once—attempted to move the right leg while Itsuki was moving the left—and the body had simply locked up and every muscle went rigid.
The pain had been immediate and excruciating, like a charley horse in every limb simultaneously. Itsuki had released control first, and the pain had stopped.
"Don't do that again," Itsuki had said bluntly.
Jimmy tried to piece together everything that had happened so far: the bizarre forest, the bizarre cave, and the bizarre blessing, none of which made sense at all; it was all just too bizarre.
How did you die? he finally asked.
"Does that matter?" Itsuki answered.
Yeah, it fucking matters. We're stuck in the same body. I want to know who you are.
A longer pause stretched between them, filled with the sound of their shared breathing and the distant clanking of chains. When Itsuki finally spoke, his words were delivered with stark simplicity: "I was murdered."
The bluntness of it caught Jimmy off guard.
What?
"I was twenty-three. I made enemies. One of them decided to settle accounts. I went to sleep in my apartment and didn't wake up. Poison in my ventilation system, probably. Painless, at least."
Jesus! Who murders someone with poison?
"Someone who wants to make it look like an accident, perhaps. What about you?"
I told you. I was in a forest. I read this book, and then I had a dream, and then I was there, and then I died. I think.
"A book about what?"
Medieval history. Supernatural stuff. Written by this historian whom everyone thought was crazy.
"And you read it and ended up here."
Yeah.
"Interesting." Itsuki was quiet for a moment. "I was reading something too before I died. A webnovel about transmigration."
What's that?
"Ugh! Are you a millennial? They're stories about people who die in one world and wake up in another. Usually with some system or special power."
So?
"So we both read something about other worlds and then died and ended up here. That's not random."
Well, before dying, I heard a woman's voice.
"What did it say?"
Jimmy thought about that. The voice I heard said the dark needed me.
"Great. Cryptic bullshit." Itsuki shifted slightly, testing their limited mobility. "Look, here's what I know. This place is a prison named Eidengarde... the name means 'Oath Guard' in some old language. This guy, whose body we are both controlling, worked with a group of bandits six months ago and annihilated an entire village. Burned it to the ground, killed men, women, children... everyone. The guards caught him and threw him here; that's when I took over the body. All of his fellow mates are already executed—hanged in the courtyard, I heard the guards talking about it. And we're about to be executed soon."
How do you know all this? Jimmy felt a mixture of horror and fascination.
"I just did. The second I woke up here, I knew it. Don't ask me how."
That's weird.
"Everything about this is weird." Itsuki paused. "I spent six months plotting a way to escape from here. I was close to making a move. Then you showed up."
I didn't ask to be here.
"Neither did I."
They remained quiet, each processing the impossibility of their situation. For Jimmy, it was difficult to comprehend that someone had endured six months in this cramped, fetid cell, surrounded by the constant scent of rust and decay, human waste and despair. The stone walls seemed to absorb sound and hope equally, leaving nothing but cold emptiness.
You think we can escape?
"Staying would give us a worse death than trying to escape."
What's the plan?
"There's a guard rotation every six hours. Two-minute gap where nobody's watching. I was going to pick the lock then."
Can you pick locks?
"No. But I watched another prisoner practice for three months. I know the movements."
And after we're out?
"Don't know the layout past this section. Was still learning." Itsuki went quiet. "But we're out of time now."
Why?
But before Itsuki could reply, a sound echoed through the prison of metal on stone, and footsteps, growing closer towards the cell.
The orange glow that had been a distant suggestion suddenly strengthened, its dancing shadows reaching toward their cell like grasping fingers.
"Shh!" said Itsuki. "Let me handle this."
What—
"Just don't try to move or talk."
Jimmy tried to relax his half as Itsuki took control. It felt as if he was paralyzed.
A torch appeared first, held aloft by something in robes—heavy, dark fabric that seemed to absorb the firelight rather than reflect it. Behind it, through the flickering illumination, Jimmy could see that the prison wasn't just one cell but hundreds upon hundreds of cells stretching into darkness. Each cramped cage held prisoners—some huddled in corners, some reaching through bars with desperate hands, all begging for mercy in voices hoarse from disuse.
"Please, I'm innocent!"
"Let me out, I'll do anything!"
"My family needs me, please!"
The cacophony of desperation washed over them, but the robed thing ignored it all with the indifference of long practice.
The robed thing stopped at their cage, and Jimmy's heart—their heart—started to pound with primal fear. The figure reached up and pulled back its hood with deliberate slowness to reveal what lay beneath.
It had no eyes, no mouth, no nose. Only blank pale skin stretched over a vaguely humanoid skull, smooth as polished marble and just as lifeless.
What the fuck is that?
"Null," Itsuki answered internally. "Stay quiet."
The thing cocked its head, and a voice came out even though it had no mouth. "Penitent Drake. Status."
"Functional and ready to serve," Itsuki replied in a meek tone.
Penitent Drake? Jimmy thought.
"Shut up," Itsuki hissed internally.
The Hollow stared at them and raised a crystal on a chain. The crystal started glowing in a sharp, purple light, making Jimmy's (as well as Itsuki's) eyes hurt.
The Null cocked its head further. "Anomaly. Soul density increased."
Jimmy felt Itsuki tense.
"Two signatures," the Null continued. "Fracture or addition?" It leaned closer. "Overseer will be informed. Penitent Drake's body shows dual inhabitation. High value."
It turned and moved to the next cage.
Itsuki waited until the light faded. "Fuck. That's bad."
What does it mean?
"They noticed you, and now we're a subject of interest for them. They'll study us. I had a plan to stay boring and learn everything first. Can't do that now."
Because of me?
"Because of the situation." Itsuki's tone was cold. "They'll come for us soon. Maybe today. We need to be ready."
Ready for what?
"To run. Or fight. Whatever works."
We can barely sit up without falling over.
"Then we practice. We have a few hours."
They spent the next hour trying to coordinate. Itsuki moved right, Jimmy moved left, and they tried to stand. The first attempt ended with them falling immediately. The second lasted three seconds. Third, they actually stood for almost ten seconds before toppling into the cage wall.
It was exhausting, and every movement needed the same amount of focus from both of them. Jimmy's left leg would step while Itsuki's right stayed put, or Jimmy would shift weight while Itsuki tried to balance, and they'd just collapse.
This is impossible, Jimmy thought after falling again.
"It's just hard. We're getting better." Itsuki was right—they were standing longer now. "We don't need to be good. Just good enough to move when we have to."
You really think we can run?
"Fear helps. When they come for us, we'll figure it out."
They kept going: stand, step, fall; stand, step, step, fall. It was like learning to walk, but worse because there were two people with the same legs.
Can I ask you something? Jimmy thought during a break.
"Go ahead."
You said someone murdered you. What'd you do to make those kinds of enemies?
There was a long pause. "Corporate acquisition. Hostile takeovers. I'd find companies that were struggling and buy them out, then sell off the parts."
That's what got you killed?
"One of the companies was a front for money laundering. I didn't know. Started asking questions about the weird accounting, and someone decided I was a problem."
Jesus!
"I was good at it. Made money. Ruined some lives along the way. I've no regrets, though." Itsuki paused. "But then I messed with the wrong business, and they messed with me. Fair enough."
You don't sound sorry.
"Being sorry doesn't change anything. I made choices, dealt with them, and died. Now I'm here making new choices."
That's kind of fucked up.
"Perhaps. But it's honest."
Before Jimmy could respond, the sounds were back— footsteps, and this time several; Itsuki realized those steps belonged to the Nulls.
"They're early," Itsuki thought, and Jimmy heard.
Flames erupted from the torches as multiple Nulls moved deeper into the prison, coming straight for them.
Shit. They're coming for us now.
What do we do?
"Figure it out as we go."