It's close to midnight.
The rural road of this quiet town is empty, devoid of vehicles, much less people. The inhabitants are in their homes sleeping, except from a nocturnal few who are either working or have bad sleeping habits. Each home has little to no light, and the only photons in sight are the solar powered light poles.
The streets are dark, the alleyways even more so. None dare to go outside at this hour of the evening. Not for supernatural reasons but for common sense.
There's a lot of freaks at night.
But thankfully, there's no freaks tonight.
However…
An unfortunate case could be seen.
A car, whose front kissed the side of the light pole, is displayed like a macabre art piece. With the engine smoking, debris everywhere, and a front view with glass shattered and blood spluttered, it's clear a tragedy has occurred.
Inside the driver seat, the unfortunate person of this vehicle has his head on the steering wheel with half of his skull spluttered on the hood.
Blood leaked out.
And at the dead crack of midnight, no one was to attend a lonely funeral.
….
…
..
.
I died.
Simple as that.
Killed by an accident born of arrogance mixed with bad eyesight.
I should've known drinking before driving is a bad idea. For God's sake it's literally a joke on the internet, and unfortunately I'm the damn punchline.
Thankfully it was fast.
Swift and painless, like the Grim Reaper just beheads me with his sickle.
What happened after is the main point of interest. I care little of my death, I've long since accepted that. And it being my fault helps with the acceptance process.
Sitting on a chair, sipping coffee and looking out of a window to a vast clearing outside of what I assume is a Victorian style courtyard.
With green grass at the sides, and flower beds housing a myriad of colors, and the center being a bricked pathway, it is clear this is not my home. My home is a raunchy apartment with little nature in and out, the only thing that comes close to mother earth is the cockroaches and rats that live rent-free inside my damn walls.
The air is nice.
"Either a post-mortem dream, or I just become the latest victim of a cliche, " I sipped the cup of coffee. It's flavor grounded and has a tasteful hint of sweetness that contrasts the texture of the drink.
I could smell the wood in this room, and the freshly cut grass outside. I could hear the bird chirping and the breeze swishing to the trees. From just how tactile everything is, I lean into the possibility of the ladder.
I just got isekai'd.
A knock on the door, and the faint sound of rattling.
"Come in, "My voice was deep and raspy – hollow you could say.
The door opened and a young-girl in a maid's outfit came in. With brown hair and amber eyes, the girl could be labeled as cute, her looks being supplemented by her nice balanced physique and freckled face.
I will go as far as call her beautiful if not for the fear she's radiating.
Her head is low, eyes even lower. Her arms are tightly conjoined to be as small as possible. And her attempts at a straight posture is betrayed by her subtle shivering.
"Speak."
"Young Master, the lord had called for your presence…" her tone is lower but audible.
"For what purpose?" I asked.
"I-I do not know."
I snorted and put down the cup of coffee.
"You may go now, tell father that I will be there in a moment's notice."
"Understood," She bows and swiftly removes herself from my eyes.
..
..
The halls of this estate are large.
Larger than any mansion or complex I've been to.
With knight armor displayed near the pillars, and swords of decorations on the wall, it is clear this is a medieval world to my knowledge. Fantasy, magic? It remains to be seen. This is the first few moments I breathe in this world currently, so I do not know.
I entered "my father's" chamber, and the atmosphere immediately thickens.
The room was spacious, with bookshelves lining the sides and many portraits of him adorned the walls, an insignia of a bird of paradise biting on a wheat is the most curious one.
In the middle, where a table is situated, solid and cemented, my father stop writing on the paper to look at me.
"Roland," The old-man's voice was slow, showing off his age, but the tone it carries should not be mocked, "A fine day to have you out your room, and to my request no less."
He smiled.
A cold smile.
"What seems to be the problem, father?"
The old-man snorts.
"Complacency, that's the problem I am having right now."
The old-man put the pen on its stand.
"For generations the Silver family has curated the best of the best individuals with many talents that define a place in the books, " He began, standing up, "Our bloodline, rooted in noble origins, have tried its best to satisfy the standard our great ancestors have built. Mind you, the previous Silvers define an era, Roland, from Swordsman, Magicians, Tacticians or even military men. We never settle for less."
So this is a magical world.
"What brought the sudden history sermon, Father?"
"Don't feign ignorance, you know why you are here, boy."
The old man looked me dead straight in the eyes.
"For ten generations, the Silver lineage has never produced disappointment the likes of you."
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