The abandoned warehouse stood on the edge of the old town, forgotten by most, its stone walls cracked and its wooden beams sagging under years of neglect. Rusted iron chains clattered in the cold draft that slipped through the gaps, and the damp air smelled of mold and blood.
In the middle of the cavernous space hung a boy. Cassian Ahn. His wrists were tied above his head with rough rope, his body dangling like a broken puppet.
His face was battered, skin mottled with bruises of purple and blue, lips split and bleeding. A gag was shoved into his mouth, muffling the ragged wheeze of his breath. Each exhale sounded like the last.
A hulking man with muscles like coiled rope stepped forward and drove his fist into Cassian's stomach. The blow knocked the air out of him with a muffled groan. The man grinned, drew back his arm, and struck him again, savoring the sound of knuckles against flesh.
"That's enough," came a cold, measured voice.
The brute stopped immediately, "Lord Roswald." bowing and stepping aside as another figure advanced from the shadows.
Unlike the thug, this man was dressed with care, his cloak trimmed with fur, his boots polished despite the filth of the warehouse. His eyes gleamed with cruelty as he studied Cassian's trembling form.
"Oh, what a poor boy," the man said with mock sympathy, brushing Cassian's blood-matted silverish-hair from his face. "If only you hadn't witnessed that, hmm?"
At the mention of her, Cassian's swollen eyes narrowed. His brow furrowed ever so slightly, a spark of defiance flickering through his pain.
The man scoffed. "Humph. Even now, you dare. I asked you—no, I commanded you—to nullify your contract with her. But it seems you still don't know your place."
Cassian remained silent. His silence was answer enough.
Roswald's smile twisted into rage. He struck Cassian across the face, the crack of impact echoing through the chamber. Blood splattered across his glove. He looked down at it in disgust.
"Tch. Filthy." He flicked the blood off as if it were dirt.
"How dare you dirty the lord!" the guard snarled, stepping forward. His fist slammed into Cassian's ribs, sending fresh waves of pain through the boy's frail body.
Roswald raised a hand, signaling for restraint. "That's enough. Leave him. We need him alive... for now."
"We shall continue this tomorrow."
The men stepped back, their laughter fading as they disappeared into the shadows.
Cassian's head drooped, his vision dimming. His body felt hollow, every breath a battle he could no longer win. Blood dripped from his lips, staining the floor beneath him. Slowly, his strength ebbed away, and with a final shuddering exhale, the light left his eyes.
And in that moment of death—the moment Cassian Ahn's soul slipped away—another took its place.
* * * * *
~Blink-Blink~
As Ji Hoon opened his eyes, the first sensation was pain: sharp, unbearable, all-encompassing. His body felt like broken glass, each movement slicing through him. His hands were tied, and he was dangling from a rope in a place he didn't recognize.
Where am I? he thought. His mouth refused to form words, as if something invisible gagged him.
His vision swam, blurring more with every passing second.
Bang!
A loud, jarring sound rang in his ears, and two silhouettes came running toward him, screaming.
"Oh my God! What happened to you, my son?!" one of them cried: an older woman, perhaps in her forties, dressed in once-elegant silk now dulled and muddied. She lunged through the mud toward him.
The other was a young girl, following close behind.
"Young master Ahn!" she yelled, struggling to free him from the ropes.
Ji Hoon tried to respond, but all he could hear was a muffled echo. His vision went dark again, and consciousness slipped away.
* * *
Gasp.
Ji Hoon jolted awake again, lunging forward instinctively.
'What happened?' His eyes scanned the room.
It was unlike anywhere he had ever seen, as if he had stepped into sets of an old European period film. Tall, arched windows let in streams of pale sunlight, dust motes floating lazily in the beams.
The walls were lined with rich wooden paneling, carved with intricate patterns that spoke of craftsmanship long forgotten.
Pain throbbed in his head as memories tried to surface, only to vanish.
"Ahhh!" he groaned. That's when he noticed he was covered in bandages. His head, his entire body, wrapped meticulously.
The door creaked open, and a young girl stepped in, carrying a basin and fresh bandages. Upon seeing him awake, her jaw dropped, and the basin slipped from her hands. She ran to him, clutching him, eyes brimming with tears.
"Young master! You're finally awake!"
He groaned from the pain, forcing himself to look at her as she stepped back, offering a tentative smile. The girl was unfamiliar, and Ji Hoon didn't know how to react.
"Excuse me… but who are you? And where am I?" he asked, voice weak.
Her expression faltered. "Do you… really not remember me, young master?"
Ji Hoon shook his head slightly, a pang of unease twisting in his chest.
* * *
A few moments later, the door opened again, and a physician stepped in. He moved with calm, deliberate steps, carrying a small satchel of medical tools. His eyes scanned Ji Hoon's bandaged form, noting every detail.
"Good, you're awake," he said softly. "Let's see how you're doing."
He pressed gentle fingers to Ji Hoon's wrist, checking the pulse. "Can you tell me your name?"
Ji Hoon's throat felt dry, his voice cracked, but nothing came.
The physician continued. "Do you know today's date? Or where you are right now?"
Ji Hoon blinked, trying to focus. His head throbbed. "I… I don't know…"
The physician made a small, thoughtful noise. "Alright. Do you know who Cassian Ahn is?"
Ji Hoon froze. The name sounded familiar, almost like it resonated deep inside him, yet… nothing came. "I… I don't remember," he whispered.
The physician kept asking basic questions and examined him for a while.
The young girl lingered near the doorway, her eyes wide with worry. "How is he?" she asked softly, her voice trembling.
The physician glanced at her, then back at Ji Hoon, calm and professional. "Physically, he's stable," he explained. "But the trauma has caused temporary amnesia. Right now, he doesn't remember recent events or personal connections."
Her lips trembled as she looked at Ji Hoon. "Does that mean… he doesn't remember me?"
The physician shook his head gently. "Not at the moment. That's common after severe trauma. Memory often returns gradually, but some pieces might take time."
Ji Hoon lay still, staring at the ceiling, his bandaged body aching and heavy. Everything felt distant, unreal, yet a single thought cut through the haze, insistent and sharp. He didn't speak it aloud. He didn't have to. The question echoed inside him, louder than any voice in the room.
"Did I really transmigrate?"