"Today, you'll be changing rooms."
The sudden statement finally pulled Shawn out of his own thoughts. He turned his face toward the sound of Morgan's voice, his mind racing. Changing rooms? He hadn't expected that. He fully braced himself for a trick or a trap, but Morgan didn't bother waiting for him to reply.
"A blind boy rotting away in a dark dungeon serves absolutely no purpose for what comes next," Morgan said, his voice entirely flat and dismissive. "Come."
Before Shawn could even gather his balance, a pair of rough hands grabbed him by the arms and guided him up from the thin mattress. He automatically braced his wrists, waiting for the heavy clash of metal chains or the rough handling of guards. Strangely, nothing came. Morgan didn't call for guards to bind him. The hands simply guided him forward, step by step, out of the small cell.
It didn't take long for the environment to change completely. Underneath his bare feet, the cold, damp stone floor shifted, turning into smooth, dry timber. They reached a stairwell, and Shawn carefully lifted his legs to climb the first flight of stairs, followed shortly by a second. With every single step they took upward, the heavy, stale air of the underground dungeon began to fade away. The temperature grew noticeably warmer, and the scent of old moisture disappeared completely.
After a few minutes of steady walking, the hands guiding him finally stopped. Shawn heard the distinct click of a metal handle, and a large door swung open before him.
"This will be your room from now on," Morgan announced.
Shawn stood completely still in the doorway, his ears straining to catch any hidden sounds in the space.
"It has its own bathroom, a proper bed, and everything else you might need to live comfortably," Morgan continued, his boots clicking slightly as he stepped into the room. He paused for a brief second before adding, "I've also assigned a personal servant to assist you with your daily tasks. Considering your physical condition, I believe that will be necessary."
Shawn tightly bit his tongue to resist the urge to ask why. He knew better than to expect honesty; any answer Morgan gave right now would probably just be another carefully crafted lie to keep him off balance.
"Good," Morgan said, apparently satisfied with the silence. He turned on his heel. "I'll leave you alone to settle into the space."
Just like that, the unhurried footsteps moved away down the corridor. The heavy door clicked shut, the lock turned, and the silence of the mansion returned. Shawn stood frozen in place for several long moments, making absolutely sure the man was actually gone before he finally let his shoulders drop and relaxed his posture.
He immediately began to explore. There was no way he was going to trust a single word that came out of Morgan's mouth, and he needed to know exactly what kind of cage he had just been placed in.
Stretching his hands out into the open void, he shuffled his feet forward across the smooth floorboards. The very first piece of furniture his fingers bumped into was a large desk. He slid his palm across the surface, noting how smooth and polished the wood felt beneath his fingertips. Right next to it, his knee brushed against a sturdy wooden chair.
He kept moving along the perimeter of the room, his hands tracking the wall until they brushed against a tall, heavy structure made of carved wood. A bookshelf. Shawn's eyebrows rose in surprise. Curious, he reached out blindly and pulled one of the volumes free from the row. The object felt surprisingly heavy in his hands, its leather cover thick and dusty.
He opened the cover, tracing the texture of the paper, and then just stood there completely motionless. Several quiet seconds ticked past in the empty room. Slowly, a dry look crossed his face, and he closed the book with a soft thud.
"...Right," he muttered to himself. He was completely blind. A short, breathless snort escaped his lips as he shook his head. "A bookshelf. Very funny."
Morgan's sense of humor was somehow even more twisted than he originally imagined. Who in their right mind gave a completely blind person an entire shelf full of reading material?
He slid the useless book back into its exact slot and continued tracking his hands along the furniture. He located a tall wardrobe for clothes, followed by a chest of drawers and a small side table. Nothing out of the ordinary appeared.
Eventually, as he reached the far side of the space, his fingers brushed against a cool, metallic latch. A window frame. A sudden spark of curiosity surfaced in his chest. He grabbed the metal handle, gave it a firm push, and the window swung outward.
The moment the glass moved, a heavy rush of warm air poured straight into the room. Shawn froze instantly. For the first time in over a week, genuine sunlight touched his bare skin. He simply stood there, unable to move, as the radiant warmth spread across his face and arms. It quickly chased away the deep, biting chill that had settled into his bones after spending so many miserable days underground.
"Aah..." A soft, deeply satisfied sound escaped his throat. "Finally, some real warmth."
He leaned his upper body slightly closer to the open frame. Even though he couldn't see a single thing beyond the edge of the wood, he could hear the entire world moving outside. Birds were chirping in the nearby branches, and a gentle wind rustled through a thick canopy of leaves. Further away, he could pick up the distant murmur of casual conversations and the steady thud of leather boots. The faint, busy sounds of servants moving around the manor grounds filled the air, making the entire world feel alive again. A small, genuine smile finally appeared on his face. This was infinitely better than the freezing dark of a dungeon cell.
After standing by the window and enjoying the sunlight for a few minutes, Shawn pulled himself away to finish checking the rest of the layout. He tracked the wall until he found a side door, which led him straight into the space Morgan had called a bathroom.
The discovery immediately left him completely confused. His fingers brushed against polished stone tiles, then against smooth metal pipes, and finally against a fixture that felt suspiciously familiar to his touch. He messed with a small lever, and a second later, a heavy torrent of water suddenly poured down from directly above his head.
Shawn nearly jumped out of his skin, stepping back quickly as his heart hammered. "What?"
He carefully reached his hand back outward into the stream. The water continued falling steadily onto his palm, completely warm and pressurized. His confusion only deepened by the second. A shower. An actual, functioning shower.
He stood right beside the splashing water for several seconds, desperately trying to process what he was experiencing. From what little he could salvage from his broken memories, this world wasn't supposed to be particularly advanced in technology. So why on earth did it have indoor plumbing?
For a brief, ridiculous moment, Shawn seriously wondered whether some other reincarnated soul had arrived in this world decades before him, looked around at the magic and the monsters, and decided that humanity's absolute greatest contribution to society should be luxury bathroom appliances. The sheer absurdity of the thought almost made him laugh out loud.
"Of all the things to introduce to a fantasy world..."
Shaking his head, he stripped off his ragged, dirt-stained clothes and stepped directly beneath the warm spray. The heat washed away days of intense discomfort. It carried away the dried sea salt, the sweat, the dust, and the lingering, stale scent of the dungeon floor. By the time he turned the metal lever off and wiped his face dry with a clean cloth, he felt like an entirely different human being. He was cleaner, lighter, and felt far more human than he had since he first woke up.
Eventually, Shawn navigated his way back into the main bedroom. His hand reached out and touched the edge of the mattress. It was soft, far softer than the lumpy, thin mattress downstairs. He pressed his palm down experimentally, watching how easily the fabric sank beneath his weight. A wide grin slowly spread across his face.
"Now this..."
He climbed straight onto the bed, pulling the thick, heavy blankets over his shoulders. The mattress comfortably supported his body, and the sheets felt completely fresh. After spending more than a week sleeping on a freezing stone floor, the sudden difference felt absolutely heavenly.
Pulling the blanket tightly over himself, Shawn let out a long, peaceful breath into the quiet room.
"This," he declared aloud to the empty space, "is exactly how prisoners should be treated."
The bed welcomed his tired limbs like an old friend. For the very first time since his chaotic awakening, Shawn allowed his mind to stop worrying, stop planning, and truly relax. Within minutes, a deep, heavy sleep claimed him completely.