My eyelashes trembled.
Everything around me was hazy: the hall's lights, the noblemen's chatter, even the air itself.
My heart pounded like something was sprinting through my chest.
"Whoosh."
A burning heat spread between my ribs. Nausea rose from my gut. I stood abruptly, tossing the goblet from my hand, only to stumble immediately.
I caught myself on the edge of the golden table before me.
Was I… inside the novel?
I lifted my eyes toward the hall — the golden lights, Alaric, my reflection… everything confirmed it: yes.
I was inside Chronicles of the Lightseeker.
Damn it!
My hands began to shake.
"No... this isn't me."
The hands were soft, and slender, clad in an extravagant dark coat I'd never be caught dead wearing.
I clutched my head, pressing into my skull as flashes of unfamiliar memories flooded my mind.
Amon Greygon...
This body belonged to Amon Greygon, the 3rd-class young master — the arrogant brat who bullied poor Mervyn, the protagonist, fitting the perfect cliché rival mold, before dying in the first Trial.
I chuckled bitterly, trembling: was it him? The author? Did he put me in his story? How!?
The headache grew sharper, with sudden flashes of Amon's life playing before my eyes.
"Alaric, what's wrong with your son? Is he unwell? Tsk, tsk. The Awakening is just days away. Are you sure he can handle it in this state?"
The voice was smooth and irritating, laced with feigned concern and thinly veiled mockery.
He was a noble with neatly styled long hair, a curled mustache like a snake, and a monocle gleaming over his right eye. He wore a crimson cloak, his narrow eyes fixed on me with a look that mixed mockery with suspicion. My body stiffened instinctively. I frowned. Who was this guy?
Alaric scowled, his voice firm: "Zarith Filmont, what does this have to do with you?"
But Zarith ignored him. Instead, he suddenly frowned and stepped toward me. He grabbed my hand unexpectedly, placed his other hand under my chin, and lifted my head to stare directly into my eyes.
A colorful light shimmered in his pupils.
I felt danger. I tried to pull away, but his grip didn't budge. I opened my mouth, but before either I or Alaric could act, Zarith shouted in horror: "He's possessed!"
Alaric froze mid-reach. The nobles' chatter ceased instantly!
"Possessed?!"
"Marquis Zarith claims Marquis Alaric's son is possessed!"
"Interrogate him!"
This world was damned, in every sense, and I knew that very well. A charge of possession wasn't a joke — it was beyond slander.
One of the major enemies in the novel was demons from the Monster Realm. They often infiltrated humans, "possessing" them and committing unspeakable horrors. As such, being accused of this was being called a demon!
Was he trying to turn the entire hall against me? What did I ever do to him!?
'Zarith, you bastard!'
Ah, I remembered. He was Alaric's sworn enemy, always supporting the protagonist's faction to spite the nobles.
He was a damned loser.
Looking around at the nobles' shocked faces and their gleeful eyes, the nausea in my gut surged again. My lips trembled. I decided to stay silent, to let Alaric handle this.
Many nobles disliked Alaric. He was called the Marquis of Ice, one of the ten strongest Awakened in the world, and one of the empire's four generals. A royal family's hound, and one of the protagonist's worst enemies.
As I said, the original Amon Greygon, the previous owner of this body, died a dog's death in his first Trial. Coincidentally, Mervyn, the protagonist, fought the same monster at the same location, using Amon's sword to slay it, and returned to the real world with that sword.
As expected, Alaric grew to resent Mervyn, believing he had something to do with Amon's death. After all, how could some filthy commoner return alive with his son's sword, while his son perished?
Later, some demons took advantage of this and—Wait!
'Save yourself first, forget that crap!'
What terrible luck. I'd been summoned into the worst possible moment, I guess I've got to survive through this.
This wasn't some petty noble drama. Zarith held equal status to Alaric; his words carried weight.
Alaric calmly grabbed Zarith's wrist and said:
"Zarith Filmont, am I to take this as a challenge?"
"Whoosh!"
The temperature dropped. I felt the pressure tighten around us.
Fear sparked in Zarith's eyes as he shouted: "Alaric Greygon, are you trying to threaten me with force!? Look at your son's eyes, they're unfocused! Since you've never worked in the investigation corps, you wouldn't know, but that's one of the clearest signs of possession! Are you defending a demon?"
"A demon?"Alaric's voice chilled even more."Did you just call my son a demon?"
"Crack!! Crack!!"
I heard sharp cracking sounds. White mist rose. Ice shards spread from Zarith's hand.
"Whoosh!"
"Snap!"
Winds swirled suddenly, scattering the ice into soft, glittering dust!
"Marquis Alaric, I urge you to calm down."
A young man stepped forward from the crowd of nobles.
He had an unkempt beard, wore a long night-colored coat, and a worn square hat. His hands were gloved, and a silver pocket watch hung from a chain on his left breast.
He smiled and nodded at me. I returned the nod and immediately felt the pressure around me intensify.
'Damn it!'
My face betrayed me the moment I saw him.
Why is he here!?
— Arthur Zirel.
The world's greatest investigator.
Capable of detecting lies and exposing hidden truths with surgical precision. He'd arrested hundreds of demonic infiltrators and was ranked as one of humanity's greatest heroes.
In the novel, he stopped a demon duke's descent after a decade-long plot by gathering clues and interrogating the right people. His ability was devastating!
This wasn't just some noble spat anymore.
One wrong answer and I might die here.
'How the hell can I pass him?'
I can't make Alaric handle this anymore...I've to do this myself.
Based on his questions, he could easily get me imprisoned or executed on my very first day in this world. Damn, whoever threw me into this mess!
No. I won't let that happen. I will survive!
"Calm down? They've accused my son of a crime punishable by death, and you ask me to calm down?"
Alaric's voice trembled with barely restrained rage, like a volcano ready to blow.
Zarith's face lit up with joy when he saw the famed investigator.
He called out, "Arthur, this is your specialty. Can you confirm what I said?"
"Bzz!"
Arthur didn't answer.
He pulled out a cigarette, and it lit itself.
That was a sign of his tension.
Wait… why was he nervous?
Even if he wasn't a noble, no one could pressure him unless—
Ah.
Arthur owed Zarith. He saved him after his first Trial. He'd leveraged that debt in the novel, too...
'Tsk, tsk. Already screwing the main timeline huh?'
After a brief exchange of glances, Arthur gave a fake smile and said gently:
"Lord Alaric, let's not make this difficult. Lord Zarith has a valid concern, and his reasoning is sound. Your son Amon is showing classic signs of possession. Do you object to me questioning him? I can't ignore this."
I spoke before Alaric's anger could boil over, gripping his arm: "No, Father. It's alright... I'm fine."
"Amon, you..."Alaric didn't argue; he gently patted my head."Your father will handle this. Don't mind their nonsense."
Strange…wasn't his power ice? Why was his hand so warm?
I said, "No, Father. It's fine. I brought this on myself... I can clear my name."
As expected of a noble, I searched the pockets of my flashy coat and quickly found a perfumed handkerchief. I wiped my mouth with it.
My lips trembled. I turned to Arthur:
"Arthur Zirel. One of humanity's greatest heroes. I've long wanted to meet you. It's an honor."
"The honor is mine, son of the Ice Marquis, young master Amon Greygon."He gave me a slight bow, then added: "I wish we'd met under better circumstances, but such is the nature of this world. I ask your forgiveness in advance."
I nodded with feigned nobility."You may begin."
"Very well. I will ask 3 questions. Answer them with complete honesty."
Arthur flicked his cigarette out and began: "First, are you truly Amon Greygon?"
Psychologically, I had his memories.
Physically, I was in his body.
So I laughed, calming my heartbeat, and replied: "And who else would I be, if not him?"
I dodged a direct yes or no.