It was the morning of the trial.
Multiple footsteps echoed beyond the steel gate.
Aren sat up, his movements stiff. "It's time," he muttered.
Ray, trapped within the body, watched in silence as the iron gate creaked open.
Two unfamiliar men, both in red-green coats and white pants, entered the room. Wasting no time, the two of them bowed to Aren in unison.
The older one spoke. "Young Master, the elders have summoned you."
Without waiting for Aren's response, the younger man rushed forward to remove the chains.
Aren sat there in silence, letting them do their job.
As the last cuff dropped to the ground, Ray felt wetness on both cheeks.
He sighed as tears continued to drip down his face.
Aren was crying in silence.
After learning that Aren had been trapped here since the age of eight, Ray couldn't help but feel a bit of sympathy for him.
There was also a trace of respect. Aren had endured all this without losing his mind.
From his past life, Ray knew dozens of people who had gone mad after just a few years of torture and isolation.
For a teen like Aren to endure eight years of this torment showed an incredible level of willpower.
The two men didn't give him much time. The older one said, "Young Master, time is tight."
Aren wiped away his tears and stood up. "Let's go."
He took one last look at the room and stepped outside.
Bright blue light almost blinded them.
Aren covered his eyes while Ray cursed internally.
Being trapped in darkness for so long had greatly increased Aren's sensitivity to light. It took some time to adjust, and when Ray finally looked around, he was speechless.
The prison room was actually connected to a massive corridor, contrary to his expectations.
A gray carpet covered the stone floor. There were blue light gems embedded in the walls. From time to time, different sets of decorations appeared along the pristine white corridors.
Only now did Ray realize that instead of throwing Aren into a dungeon, these people had simply converted his old room into a prison.
This also explained the dust-covered furniture left inside.
As they walked, Ray noticed several maids bowing as they passed. It was likely out of respect for the two men escorting Aren, as Aren himself looked more like a beggar at the moment.
The two men finally led them into a side room. A few maids were already waiting inside.
Once again, the older man took the initiative. "Young Master, these two will prepare you for the occasion."
Aren nodded.
Ray also agreed silently. After all that time, Aren was desperately in need of a bath.
The old man instructed the maids, "Finish your work within half an hour."
Both maids nodded and led Aren inside.
The room was plain, furnished only with a few tables and chairs. There was a large mirror mounted on the wall in front of him.
Ray noticed Aren instinctively move toward it when one maid spoke.
"Sir, we need to wash you up. Please come to the bathroom."
Aren turned toward the door on the left that led to an enormous bathroom.
One maid rushed inside while the other began removing the rags from his body.
From within, Ray noticed the maids frowning from time to time. It might have been because of the stench, but these small reactions helped him understand Aren's position in the family.
From the two men earlier to these maids now, while everyone bowed to Aren, none of them hid their disdain.
Ray focused on Aren. He didn't seem to care at all. He simply followed their instructions and let them do their work.
After removing the rags, Aren entered the bathtub. For the next half hour, the two maids scrubbed away layers of filth and dried blood from his body.
When they were finally done, they moved him to a nearby table.
There lay a loose white shirt and a pair of blue pants.
One maid whispered. "Sir, the Second Lady personally selected these clothes for you."
Aren nodded and murmured, "My mother."
Ray nodded internally.
Over the past two days, the two of them had developed a basic understanding.
Though they couldn't directly communicate, the one in control could convey general intent to the other. It was still rudimentary, but Aren had adapted to it quickly.
This had helped Ray piece together the basics of this world.
The maid helped Aren get dressed. It was a quick process. Soon after, Aren walked toward the mirror.
"It's been years," Aren murmured. He took a deep breath and stepped forward.
[What?!] Unable to control himself, Ray shouted internally at the reflection.
Staring back was a sixteen-year-old boy with brown hair. His skinny build and pale skin gave him a sickly appearance. But what truly caught Ray's attention were the pale blue eyes.
The memory of Aren stating his full name flashed through his mind. Aren Duisberg.
Ray thought in shock. Blue eyes. Duisberg. Wait, don't tell me I'm in that world.
The few things Aren had told him about this world started to flash through Ray's mind.
Basically, the upcoming trial was a worldwide event where a certain number of children born with special marks would be summoned to the trial grounds.
Those who passed the trial would be allowed to return. From what Aren understood, the main reason nobody cared about him was that his talent was so poor, and he was basically destined to die there.
It sounded like a typical fantasy setting, something Ray wouldn't normally think twice about—but now… No, it couldn't be that novel, right?
Ray forced himself to think deeper about that world.
In that novel, there was a cursed world that was gradually merging with the real world.
This led to the emergence of a special group of people who could travel between both worlds. What were they called again?
Ah, cursed masters.
Ray froze.
Hex masters. Cursed masters. Fuck!
Just then, a loud voice came from outside. "Young Master, we have to go."