The sound of water dripping from the ceiling, combined with the dampness pressing against his face, woke Nakarin from his slumber. Only to realize he had awakened somewhere completely unfamiliar.
"D—damn, my head hurts," he muttered.
If he remembered correctly, he had not drunk heavily enough to feel this hungover. Nakarin sifted through the hazy memories in his mind, recalled that the last thing he did was walk down an alleyway on his way home.
When he tried to remember what happened after, a sharp pain shot through his head, forcing him to abandon such thoughts and focus on his current surroundings instead.
"Where... is this?"
His voice echoed as if he were in a cave. The area resembled a pitch-black tunnel. In the center of the tunnel a stream of water ran like a sewer line. He felt like his body was soaked in some kind of liquid. As he looked down, he was struck by horror.
"...Is this blood?"
Nakarin discovered himself wearing a white long-sleeved shirt and black trousers, both drenched in blood. Most notably, there was a large hole in the left chest area, as if something had pierced through both the fabric and his own skin. Strangely, his body was fine, and he felt no pain or injury.
After a moment of panic, Nakarin gradually calmed himself. As a former lawyer, he had seen life and death up close many times, which allowed him to steady himself.
'How did I end up here?'
He began questioning the situation as soon as he regained his senses. He quickly reached into his pants pocket for clues and his right hand brushed against something. Nakarin pulled it out to find a leather wallet. Inside was a card made of thin metal, resembling an ID card. He picked it up and was shocked by what he saw.
"Nicholas... Parlay," he murmured while reading the letters inscribed on the card.
To his surprise, he was certain he had never seen this kind of alphabet before, yet he understood it perfectly. The photo on the card was blurry, but he could tell at a glance that the man was a Westerner.
Why was this guy's wallet with him? And this didn't really explain why he was lying in a sewer, covered in blood.
Suddenly struck by a thought, Nakarin turned toward a faint glimmer of candlelight that was hanging on his left. He leaned over the water's edge to stare at his reflection.
His face was stained with blood and black mud, but that wasn't what caught his attention. The face staring back at him was that of a pale Caucasian man with a high-bridged nose, weary green eyes and dark blond hair. It was certainly not his own face.
"Who the hell is this?"
He rubbed his face, and the reflection did the same.
"Is this... me?"
Something had gone horribly wrong. He was Nakarin, without a doubt, but now he was in the body of a man named Nicholas Parlay, in an unknown location, under the strangest circumstances imaginable.
Nakarin collapsed on the ground, exhausted. Something that was kept in his torn shirt pocket fell to the floor, its reflection caught his eye, so he reached out to pick it up.
"a mirror?"
This gray mirror looked like a fragment from a larger mirror, yet it seemed intentionally crafted this way. It was pentagonal and about the size of his palm, with ancient, unidentifiable artistic patterns on the edges.
Looking into the mirror, Nakarin felt an eerie sensation to the point he almost threw it away. However, realizing it might help him understand what was happening, he reluctantly tucked it back into his pocket then took a deep breath to steady himself.
'First, I need to explore this place,'
he thought before pushing himself up. He began walking toward the faint light at the end of the path, there was a large hall not far from where he woke up.
The trail of blood along the path and the stains on his shirt suggested that something deadly had happened to this body.
Could it be that 'Nicholas Parlay' had been fatally wounded and dragged himself to the very spot where 'Nakarin' had awakened? Perhaps the "real" Nicholas Parlay was no longer of this world.
The scent of blood wafted from the hall ahead. Instinct told him something disturbing might have occurred here. Although every instinct urged him to turn and flee, he forced himself to press on.
The sudden brightness made him lift a hand to cover his eyes. Large lanterns blazed in the center with lit up candles that were placed everywhere in the hall. From above, it looked like they were arranged to perform some kind of ritual. He saw an altar covered in blood, with a large, blood-stained knife resting upon it. Blood flowed through the cracks in the stone floor, yet strangely, no one was there.
He scouted the area, but aside from the gruesome ritual and flickering candles, he found no further clues. He stopped at the end of the room, where a large wooden door stood slightly ajar. He pushed it open to reveal a stone staircase leading up beyond his line of sight.
Nakarin sighed softly before stepping onto the stairs, thinking this might be the longest climb he had ever experienced.
He lost track of time, and his legs grew so weak he could barely take another step. After a long while, the darkness began to lift, and the sound of wind from above told him that he had nearly reached the top.
The cold air brushed against his skin. It was night outside. He gazed at the deep blue sky, where the stars shimmered more brightly than he remembered. It was hard to believe such a place existed on Earth, yet he couldn't recognize a single constellation.
The wind made him shiver to the bone. Judging by the leafless trees, it was likely autumn, which was odd, since Nakarin was certain it should have been summer.
Dim light from vintage-style lamp posts revealed his surroundings, a cemetery similar to those he had seen in Europe, seemingly located on a hill. Looking behind, he realized he had emerged from a small shack. It was hard to believe a staircase inside led so deep down into a drainage system.
"Hey, pal! What are you doing out here so late?"
A voice snapped Nakarin out of his reverie. He turned to see an elderly man with gray hair and a long gray beard, wearing a tattered coat like a homeless person. Nakarin immediately raised his guard. After tonight's events, it was hard not to be suspicious.
"Whoa, easy there! I mean no harm. You don't seem well —Are you alright?"
Nakarin hesitated. He was certain He had never heard such language before, yet he had no trouble understanding the old man.
"I'm fine" he replied
The old man looked him up and down, his eyes skeptical, but he eventually shrugged. "If you say so... but what are you doing here? This is a restricted area, you know."
'Then why are you here, old man?' Nakarin thought but didn't say it. Instead, he answered
"I'm not sure how I got here myself"
The old man looked puzzled for a moment before giving up. " Keeping secrets, eh? Fine by me. But do you know the way back to town? Want me to walk you there?"
Seeing Nakarin's poor condition, the old man offered to escort him. Nakarin nodded immediately, as he had no idea where he was.
As they walked down the dirt road, the old man introduced himself.
"The name's Dirk... folks around here call me Dirk the Beggar. Nice to meet you, pal"
The old man extended his right hand.
Nakarin paused, reflecting on everything that had happened. His identity had already changed. He might never return to his life as "Nakarin" the ordinary lawyer who mindlessly his chasing dreams.
Considering that the owner of this body might already be long gone, he would have to live as Nicholas Parlay from now on. Perhaps this was a destiny granted by God... or something else entirely.
Nakarin's minds were stilled. He decided to cast aside his old self and embrace his new identity.
"I am... Nicholas Parlay. Nice to meet you."
Nicholas shook Dirk's hand. (From now on, MC will be referred to as Nicholas)
"Could you tell me where we are?" Nicholas asked. The old man raised an eyebrow.
"You don't know? From the look of you, I almost took you for a local, pal"
".... I just returned from somewhere very far away"
Nicholas gazed at the sky, wondering if he would ever return to that distant place.
"Ah, there it is! Just up ahead, follow me," the old man exclaimed while pointing forward.
As the trees thinned, a vast vista unfolded before him: a mountain path stretching down to a stone road that led to the city
Nicholas stared at the scene below, his eyes widening in disbelief.
The landscape was quiet yet mysterious, lit by flickering lamps along the streets. The buildings weren't modern but resembled architecture from the 1700s–1800s. To the east and west stood massive cathedrals, their spires piercing the sky as if they were silent guardians of this place. To the north sat a grand castle surrounded by high stone walls. The dark alleys to the south felt as though the shadows themselves were alive. Above all, a silver moon bathed the rooftops and towers in pure light, set against a backdrop of fog and stars.
In that moment, Nicholas finally understood, this was not the world he once knew.
"Welcome back to York, pal" Dirk said, slapping his shoulder snapping him back to reality.
"Hah..."
Nicholas let out a dry, raspy sound from his throat.
Good grief… it seemed there was no hope of him returning home anytime soon.
10.10.550
Nicholas Parlay
Transmigrator