What's going on?
I can't see anything!
I can't sense anything!
Noir suddenly regained his senses, only to find himself in an alien space. There was nothing in sight but a swirling gray mist. This wasn't his home; he wasn't sitting at his desk like before everything blacked out.
It was a vast expanse with no horizon, just an endless gray mist. Strange whispers echoed in his ears, beyond his comprehension.
Where am I?
Am I dreaming?
This place looks like it's straight out of a fairytale.
So, I fell asleep?
Oh, sh*t! Am I dead?
Nah! I'm just 17; I can't die already. I haven't even traveled outside Germany yet.
And what's with this weird tingling?
I feel so light and... strange.
Aghh! These voices are so annoying. What do they even mean?
Suddenly, a low rumble rose from the grey mists, and the place started to shake.
Whoa! What's this sudden rumbling?
As the mist began to clear slightly, colossal pillars rose from the misty ground, reaching skyward and fading into the ethereal haze above.
Noir found himself standing next to a long table. A figure sat in the lead chair, dressed in a dark gray suit, his long black hair falling over his shoulders. He simply stared at Noir with lifeless black eyes.
"Take a seat, Mr. Kagenou," the figure replied, his form silhouetted against the crimson glow of the moon behind him.
What the f*ck is going on?
Who the hell is this guy?
And how does he know my last name?
Either I messed up, or he's gonna mess me up.
Noir slid the chair back, taking a seat as directed by the figure. He was confused, startled, and thoroughly pissed off.
"Welcome, Mr. Kagenou, to my–" the figure began, a subtle gesture of welcome accompanying his words.
"Hold it! Who the hell are you? And why the fck am I here?" Noir demanded.
"You still don't have an idea?" the figure replied, a hint of amusement in his tone.
An idea? Wait, so I really am dead.
And is this guy the Reaper or something?
I definitely pissed him off.
"I'm going to hell, aren't I?" Noir asked.
"Hell? You're not dead, at least not in my sense," the figure responded, a faint smile playing on his lips.
Gosh! I'm not dead.
That is sooo reassuring.
I totally trust you, we are like buddies, right?
"Then where the hell am I?" Noir asked, his voice laced with suspicion.
"You are in my Castle, The Castle of Fabrications. Is that enough information for you?" the figure replied, his gaze unwavering.
Like hell it is.
"Why am I here?" Noir demanded, leaning forward slightly.
"Well, that... is a good question," the figure mused, a thoughtful expression on his face.
"So give me the answer, long coat," Noir pressed, a touch of impatience in his voice.
"First of all, your coat is the same length as mine. Second of all, I don't have the slightest idea why you are here," the figure stated, his voice calm and even.
The fck you mean you don't know why I'm here? Noir thought.
"So just send me back, I guess."
"And how in the world am I supposed to know where you came from?" the figure asked, a slight tilt of his head.
"The same way as you figured out my name," Noir countered, a flicker of defiance in his eyes.
"I'm not sorry, Noir, but you are gonna have to play by my rules," the figure declared, his voice firm and final.
Uhhh! Noir stared at the figure, whatshisname, with an irritated expression.
"Don't look at me like that, Mr. Kagenou..." the figure warned, his eyes narrowing slightly.
Now we're playing formal, eh? Noir mused.
"Let's play a game. I am the Host, and you are... The Fool," the figure announced, a theatrical flourish in his words.
What are we playing? Lotm?
Noir's senses blacked out once again. He experienced some memories that were not his; something felt off. What were these visions?
– Alder Wilson, a 22-year-old historian living with his elder sister, Grace Wilson. Their father died as a soldier, and their mother succumbed to her illness. The expenditure comes from his working elder brother, Thomas Wilson. –
The memories were fragmented, and these were the only solid ones.
Who now? Albert? Who's that? Why do I care?
This Host is a... I don't know, whatever.
Noir regained his senses. He was sitting at a desk, a little bigger than his original one.
Finally, I'm back! Wait, this isn't my room. Where am I?
Noir rose, stepping back into the room's center as the late afternoon sun streamed softly through the sheer white curtains. On the polished desk, a stack of well-worn books rested beside a brass lamp, their spines catching the light. Next to them was a framed photograph of Alder and his siblings.
A tall, finely carved chest of drawers stood guard next to a magnificent mirror across from the desk. Every detail spoke of fine craftsmanship.
He looked to the right of the table, where Alder's bed was neatly made, with a closet on the right and a bookshelf on the left.
Noir turned towards the mirror, catching a glimpse of himself. His breath caught. The face staring back wasn't his. A stranger's eyes, dark but lacking the essence of his, stared back. The face, the physique, everything was unfamiliar. He raised his hand to his face, touching it with uncertainty.
This is real!
Then he reached for his hair, once long but now barely brushing his earlobes.
This... This isn't me. This face, this body... who the hell is this?
Noir stepped back, then slid the chair out from the desk and sat down. He was confused, different questions racing through his mind. What in the world happened? Why was he in a different body? Where was he? And why?
Have I... transmigrated?
But then what about this guy?
Uhhh... Albert, I think. Is he dead?
But there are neither any injuries on this body nor any signs of being poisoned.
He couldn't have just... disappeared.
His gaze drifted to an open book lying on the edge of the desk. He picked it up, his fingers idly scrolling through the pages.
What even is this script? And how am I able to read it?
The book was a cookbook. Perhaps Alder was learning to cook or something like that.
These recipes seem pretty familiar.
Chicken stew.
Fried rice.
Sundae? Well, perhaps I can learn something from this.
Guess I'm still in my world, not some isekai thing.
As Noir scrolled through the recipes, a sudden rapping sound came from the door. Someone was outside, but who?
Knock! Knock! Knock!