What is going on?
I can't see anything!
I can't sense anything!
Noir suddenly regained his senses just to find himself in an alien space. There was nothing in sight except for gray mist. It wasn't his home, he wasn't sitting on his desk like before everything blacked out.
It was a vast space with no horizon, just gray mist. Strange whispers echoed in his ears that he couldn't comprehend.
Where am I?
Am I dreaming? This place looks like 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 travelled outside Germany yet.
And what is up with this weird tingling? I feel so light and... weird.
Aghh! These voices are so annoying. What do these even mean?
Whoa! What is this sudden shaking?
As the mist started clearing up slightly, pillars rose from the misty ground and kept reaching high, fading in the mist up above.
Noir found himself standing next to a long table, a figure sitting in the lead chair, in a dark gray suit, his long black hair fell over his shoulders. He simply stared at Noir with his black, lifeless 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 does he know my last name?
Either I messed up, or he is gonna mess me up
Noir slid the chair back, taking a seat as directed by the figure. He was confused, startled and moreover pissed off.
"Welcome, Mr. Kagenou, to my–"
"Hold it! Who the hell are you? And why the f*ck am i here?
"You still don't have an idea?"
An idea? Wait, so I really am dead
And is this guy is The Reaper or something? I definitely pissed him off
"I'm going to hell, aren't I?"
"Hell? You're not dead, atleast not in my sense.
Gosh! I'm not dead. That is sooo reassuring. I totally trust you.
"Then where the hell am I?"
"You are in my Castle, The Castle of Fabrications. Is that enough information for you?"
Like hell it is
"Why am I here?"
"Well, that... is a good question."
"So give me the answer, long coat."
"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 f*ck you mean you don't know why I'm here
"So just send me back, I guess."
"And how in the world am I supposed to know where you came from?"
"The same way as you figured out my name."
"I'm not sorry, Noir, but you are gonna have to play by my rules."
Uhhh! Noir stared at the figure, whatshisname, with an irritated expression.
"Don't look at me like that, Mr. Kagenou..."
Now we're playing formal eh?
"Let's play a game, I am the Host, and you are... The Fool"
What are we playing? Lotm?
Noir's senses blacked out once again. He experienced some memories that were not his, something was off. What are these visions?
– Alder Wilson, a 22-year-old historian living with his elder sister, Grace Wilson.
Father died as a soldier, and mother succumbed to her illness.
The expenditure comes from his working elder brother, Thomas Wilson. –
The memories were fragmented and the only solid ones were these.
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 on 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 made up nicely, 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 wasn't his.
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 going through his mind. What is 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 cooking book. Perhaps Alder was learning to cook or something like that.
These recipes seem pretty familiar.
Chicken stew.
Fries 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!