Tingg…!!
The sound of a bell rang. Slowly, his eyes opened. Fenn felt as if he had just realized something—like he had hurt himself while in his apartment.
"What?!" He pressed his forehead, startled… His eyes locked onto a revolver lying on the table. Fenn froze, standing still, his face blank with confusion.
It had felt strange the first time the curse left his body—his head felt like it was about to explode back then. Eventually, all of Fenn's memories pieced themselves together, and he remembered everything.
Even his own death—Fenn remembered it vividly. He had been killed three days before he came to inhabit this body. But his death felt strange to him.
"Wasn't I just somewhere else?"
He had entered the memories—the events leading up to the death of Fenn Naresca.
"No… this is Fenn's memory. How am I here?"
He saw himself—identical, without a single difference. As if he had traveled back in time to the past.
Fenn Naresca's behavior before his death felt odd to Lucian. He saw Fenn pacing back and forth, holding his forehead.
"What exactly is he doing?" Curious, Lucian finally approached him.
As he glanced at his own face pacing aimlessly, a sudden shift in the memory occurred right before his eyes.
He was back in the strange place from the moment Fenn was first killed—a silent, dark corridor. The place where Lucian had first transmigrated into this body.
The exact cause of Fenn's death was still unclear, but he saw three strange people—just like the first time he had woken up—approaching Fenn Naresca with suspicious intent.
Without hesitation, he walked closer to see and confirm what those three were doing. But before he could get near, Lucian was startled by something on the floor of the corridor—strange inscriptions.
Fenn Naresca suddenly bolted, sprinting away from the three strangers. He shoved nearby crates into their path, trying to slow them down. A cracking sound followed. His pace quickened. He flung open the main doors of the building, and as his foot crossed the threshold, the bell rang again in his ears. Ting…
Meanwhile, Lucian was still trying to make sense of what was happening. The writing on the floor looked just like the kind found on Earth. But he couldn't translate its meaning. Eventually, the memory jumped—right to the moment of Fenn Naresca's death after writing those very inscriptions.
The moment his foot stepped out of the building, Fenn suddenly found himself in a pitch-black room without the faintest light. He couldn't even make out his own hands or clothes.
Suddenly, something stabbed him from behind. Startled, Fenn spun around, only to feel something thick and wet in his grip.
It was his own blood. His eyes widened in shock. There was no attacker, no one else around—only fear and suffocating darkness before him.
Lucian understood after witnessing this. But out of nowhere, he heard the sound of skin scraping against a hard object. Curious, he reached for it—a revolver tucked between his shirt and trousers.
He froze, uncertain how the weapon had ended up in his hands.
"No way!"
His shock deepened as the memory shifted again—to the morning, mere seconds before his death.
Bang!!
A single gunshot rang out—just inches from his own body. That was when he realized: this wasn't a dream. This was reality.
The revolver he had been holding was now in another's grip. Lucian glanced at his palm, then at Fenn Naresca, who was aiming the gun directly at his own heart.
Strangely, Fenn tucked the revolver back into his clothes. He stood, then dashed into a castle-like building with breathtaking architecture illuminated by shafts of sunlight.
Fenn Naresca ran in haste toward a room in the castle. The door swung open violently, and his footsteps grew heavier inside the corridor, as if racing against time to accomplish something.
Inside one of the rooms not far from the main hall, Fenn rummaged through a desk and found a "blood-written note." Lucian, following behind, was stunned when Fenn pulled it from the drawer.
Fenn Naresca opened it and read through several pages. The book's form was bizarre—made of what looked like congealed blood, its contents written in the same script Lucian had seen earlier.
Perhaps that script was the main language of Wage, or used by certain kingdoms, maybe even other nations—but not entirely. Cities like Monity and Yorkshire might also know it.
He read with a grim expression until he came upon something—characters that kept shifting from one spot to another within the book.
It was as if the writing was trying to evade its reader, refusing to reveal its meaning. Then, Fenn reached for a pendant he found in the same drawer.
He also retrieved an old, blank book from the same place.
"Norancia!"
There was no time to think. He tucked the blood-written note between the desk and left the room, sealing it with a small locking spell.
Lucian still had no idea what Fenn was trying to do, but he continued following him. His mind was a whirl of unanswered questions.
The door closed. Once more, Fenn Naresca exhaled heavily. His eyes lingered on it, his mind teetering on the edge. He smiled faintly, then walked away.
Lucian, puzzled by what he saw, muttered to himself. "Can't this go any faster?"
Suddenly, the memory shifted again—to when Fenn was unable to leave the apartment for a while. He picked up the revolver before him and aimed it at the blood-written note.
"What the hell is going on?!"
Lucian's eyes widened at the strange act.
A memory of his close friend flickered in his mind, along with the thought of his family waiting for him to return.
"Ahh… remembering that again!" Fenn sighed, his brow furrowed—his mind unable to think clearly.
Then, without warning, he aimed the revolver at his own heart.
"I'm sorry, Nathan… Mother… Monica. I—I have no other choice."
With that, Fenn stood for the last time, carrying the blood-written note. He walked to a nearby shelf and grabbed a small bottle with a sharp tip.
He set the bottle on the table, right beside the note, which lay open on page sixteen. He stared at the page for a moment, trying to understand it. Then, he drew the revolver from his clothes.
He aimed it directly at his left index finger.
Bang!!
It was madness. Fenn winced in pain but didn't stop. Blood dripped steadily from the wound.
The sound of something hitting the floor echoed. The revolver had been thrown behind him. He glanced at where it fell—beneath his bed.
He uncapped the bottle. Naseki's blood dripped into the small opening. The bottle was a magical conduit—a mix between potion and medium. The liquid inside reacted instantly. Seeing it, Fenn swallowed hard, nervous.
He took a deep breath. He then brought the bottle over page sixteen. Strangely, nothing happened.
Fenn frowned, sensing something wrong. He tried touching the book, but—
"Oughhh!!"
Blood gushed from his mouth. His head pounded violently—as if something was yanking his heart from the inside. Blood spattered everywhere. His head fell forward, consciousness fading.
Through his blurring vision, he caught a glimpse of the note closing on its own.
His eyes snapped wide open at the sound that followed.
Bang!!
The revolver fired on its own, striking him from behind—piercing his heart.
"Ahhh…"
"What the hell is this? What the hell was he trying to do?"
Lucian recoiled at Fenn's actions. Unable to bear the sight any longer, he snapped back to reality—his eyes opening wide.
And there before him stood two figures—Nathan and Aurora—staring sharply at him.