A tall, black haired man with a mature face and tired expression held a cigar, smoking it amidst the illuminating visage of the starry sky above.
'...The stars sure are bright.'
Rio vacantly gazed at the stars, evoking a complicated emotion inside him.
'I wonder what it feels to be like one...?'
...The stars were nothing but enviable. They were grand, bright, and ever-shining. They were the combination of all beauty and hope, merged into one to create the illuminating beacon of lights above.
They shone, having a hopeful bright luster that will never vanish in all of eternity — they were the light of space and the magnum opus of God.
...Indeed, that was what stars were. It was a beacon of hope, light and a guide towards a bright future — in which, something he could never be.
In contrast to the stars, his life was that of the void, a meaningless and monotonous continuity with no room for a future.
With such a life, he could only envy the stars.
Rio sighed and blew the cigar, spreading the fumes of smoke to the air as it produced an acrid, uncomfortable smell.
He closed his eyes and contemplated silently.
A grand ever-shining star... it returned an abandoned memory in his mind that he chose to leave behind.
In the past, he was once like that — a bright star
However, in contrast to towards the beacons of hope above... he was no true star — but was merely a fake star trying to deceive himself as real one.
It was laughable attempt that failed in the end.
Rio blew the cigar, letting out a long-suffering sigh as he kept his eyes closed. It was strange... perhaps this day was special but the memories he had abandoned long ago returned to his mind.
Once in the past, he used to exhibit brightness and anticipation similar of the stars. However it was only when he was a simple, and "ignorant" stupid child.
A child with bright prospects... unrealistic dreams, expectations.
He used to be like that.
Though if anybody were to hear his thoughts, they would doubt the validity of words. Afterall, just from the contrasting difference he was showing compared to the child of his words.
...He was just nothing sort of similar compared to the child he had described. Rio's expression was apathetic, a callous indifferent expression was etched on his face while a melachonlic emotion drifted in his pupils.
...Reality was just too cruel. Growing up was something many were usually excited about, including him, but when you actually experience growing up, you will realize everything that you thought as a child were fictitious at best.
Dreams and goals were like fragile glass, easily shattered by the cruel projection of reality. The illusion that he had encased himself in, vanished like fleeting smoke.
Even then, it was important to note people were fools — him included. At the beginning, he knew his dreams were unrealistic as a child, he still chased after it.
And even now, he was still chasing after it... Rio raised his head, staring at the starry sky as maddened determination flashed through his pupils. He would have an answer one day.
After a while of silence, Rio shook his head and remembered something. He took his phone in his pocket.
Turning on his phone, he messaged a particular number. It was the contact number of the author he was assigned to. He was the editor of a famous webnovel.
The famous webnovel was called — "The Last Stand."
'Hey, Rio here,'
Rio typed. His name — Rio, was inspired by a particular bluebird scared of heights but eventually get ahold of courage to fly and escape the chains binding his fate.
'Where are you?'
Tap, tap, tap...
Rio tapped his foot, waiting for a reply. He waited for several minutes, but the man still didn't respond.
'I should just go to his place and talk about it in person,' Rio thought, throwing away the cigar on his hand. He stepped on it and walked away.
—
The apartment where the author in question was staying was unusually wide.
Rio opened the door and entered the apartment, his hand crossed underneath his chest.
'Now... where is he?'
John Smith was the name of the author he was assigned to.
'An utterly, ordinary and unsuspecting name.' He sarcastically thought in his mind.
John Smith was a friendly and approachable man. They met by chance by coincidentally walking to each other in a bar. In a twist of fate, Rio originally thought he will never get along with someone so cheery, but life—just turns around and give a big slap like usual.
They were not merely editor and author—they were friends, great one's in fact. In all his life, perhaps John Smith was the one he could only call a 'friend'...
Rio turned silent, a complicated emotion passing through his eyes.
...In any case, he had been standing inside for a while now—why haven't John come down, yet?
Rio shouted loudly, calling out a name.
"John!"
A few minutes pass yet the silence only grew heavier by each second.
Rio frowned.
'Is he outsid the house...?'
That... was rare. John Smith should be writing right now. The man was a frantic writer, seldom from anything outside. The only time he had gone outside... was to go to an unknown place, and after that event, he had never gone outside once again. His dedication was truly in the borders of insanity.
One time he wrote a full day without break, completely immersed in his own world.
'Itas like information was being transmitted to his mind.' Rio thought strangely, shaking his head.
...Who was he kidding? That's just bizarre. This was real life—not some sort of fantasy novel.
"...It seems like he isn't home yet," Rio muttered loudly. However as he said that, a vibration suddenly came from his pocket. He took out his phone... and speak of the devil. It was John.
The man messaged him, though the message was... strange.
'Hey, Rio. Do you like your life?'
Rio tensed, confused. He didn't know what got into him, but he answered in almost an instant.
'... Frankly, no.'
'Then..'
A reply came out quickly.
'Do you wish for... a more thrilling? A more fantasy like, magical like, life?'
Rio brows furrowed. That... was a weird question. His instincts were shouting red flags at the moment but ignored it.
Instead of answering, he instead asked.
'What is this about? That's a weird question.'
'Nothing, just answer it. Think of it… as a way to finish my novel.'
Oh, so it was that. Rio released the breath he was holding, sighing in relief. In another time, another place... perhaps he would have realized a massive flaw—but drowsiness suddenly invaded his mind and forced him to answer quickly.
'Well, yes.'
After that reply, John didnt respond anymore. If he ever returned to this memory again, then he would notice... the strangeness and mystical things around him.
However, intense sleepiness was overcoming his mental defenses.
Rio felt drowsy.
...It took him a while, a long while to realize what was happening.
No— no—! It wasn't sleepiness. His consciousness was shutting down! Rio tried to open his eyes, however... a force made him unable to control his body anymore, he was helpless and powerless over the force.
...At that moment, he felt death touch his soul. He wanted to live for more... But he couldnt move. The drowsiness felt like his last breath.
It was such shame, a true shame...
Rio's eyes closed, his body fell as a thud rang out in the room. As his thud rang out, the door suddenly opened as it creaked.
...the question he wanted to ask for all his life—remained unanswered until his inevitable death.
—
"Kuk. How interesting..."
"I know right? It seems this year is going to be much competitive than before."
"You said it. Its like all the great noble families collectively sent their kids in the academy."
Inside a rather noisy and loud wide office, the conversation between formally clothed people gone back and forth as they glanced at the transparent mirror at the room.
In one of the desk, a brown haired man with a youthful face suddenly trembled, his eyes slowly opening as it revealed his bewitching purple eyes.
Ah…what happened?
Rio thought, his mind hazy. While his mind is in disorder, he heard unfamiliar voices resound from his surroundings...
Rio frowned, his brows furrowing in annoyance. Frankly, the voices were a pain to deal with... In his life, never did he like to stay nor go to crowded places. It was simply too noisy for him.
The voices kept getting louder, aggravating him internally. Rio let out a long suffering sigh, forcing himself to open his eyes in sheer annoyance.
"..."
Rio stared at his surroundings. His originally annoyed expression and eyes turned blank from confusion.
"…Eh?"
...Huh? Huh...
His eyes darted around the room, noticing the unfamiliar walls and ceilings, along with the several unfamiliar people wearing unfamiliar old and dated noble clothes.
The situation—in all sense of mind and logic—was utterly confusing and unfamiliar.
Rio, for the third time of this day, let out a long suffering sigh once more. Now... is he dreaming? If not, then where the hell is he? If yes, then can someone please wake him up?
In spite of such unfamiliar situation, he couldn't find himself to gather enough energy to even panic or be in disbelief—all over his body and mind, all he felt is intense exhaustion.
Regardless of his exhausted body, it didn't stop him from instinctually analyzing the room he was in—a habit formed from caution.
The room was wide and large, and judging from the furniture and stuff spread all over the place... he was most likely inside an office. Clean steel desks were all spread over the room, on top of each desk were papers and laptops and other—god knows wht that object was.
Rio widened his eyes slightly, looking at a small orb that has a flaring fire burning within it. The flames, in first glance looked normal, but something in his mind made him doubt that.
Rio shook his head and shifted his gaze to his own desk. He checked the desk he was on, and there was a nameplate on top.
It was named, 'Rio Salem'.
"…Rio Salem?"
Rio was his name alright, bit certainly not Salem. Is he dreaming as a different person this time—no, nothing indicated he was indeed Rio Salem, it might just be a different person with a similar surname.
Thinking of that, Rio nodded quietly. The name Rio was utterly ordinary and lackluster, surely there were enough non-poetic parents that thought of naming their kids with an everyday name.
...In another note, why is he on the desk of this supposedly Rio Salem?
While he was thinking, the voices of the nearby strange unfamiliar people flowed through him, unintentionally he eavesdropped and listened to their conversation.
"Who do you think the most promising student this time? I mean... with all these talents attending, I don't think one could just disregard anyone."
"Nonsense. The son of a duke is attending, so it's already obvious who's going to be in the top."
"What about the mysterious kid recommended by Him? Or that godly—generational sorcerer? It isn't farfetched..."
While he was listening, the first word that stucked itself in his mind was—students. Rio raised his hand, caressing his chin. Th second was sorcerer, making him question the sanity of these people talking to each other.
In another note, he was touching his skin and it felt something —surely it wasn't a dream then? if it was, I shouldn't feel the texture of my own...
Tthe skin he was touching felt unfamiliar... It was smooth and soft. It was unlike his own skin at all...
Rio blankly stared at the long, transparent mirror in the room. The thick, clean glass shone, reflecting his appearance. His originally calm and quiet expression instantly scrunched up in disbelief, realizing something.
Bam—!
Rio suddenly stood up from his desk and slammed the table, taking everyone's sudden notice. The surrounding people stopped talking and stared at him.
Feeling the gazes of other people, he couldn't care less. A more important issue was his body...
"...Are you okay, Salem?" A person close to him suddenly asked, staring at him in confusion.
Rio took a while to respond before nodding, his mind still in daze. "...Y-yes. I'm fine…thank you."
However.... despite his disbelief and shock, he still caught the person's words.
Rio slowly shifted his eyes towards the person, his brows trembling. He asked, his voice filled with trepidation. "...What did you call me?"
The other party hesitated but still answered.
"...Salem?"
Boom—!
Something in Rio's mind shut down, whether his brain or common sense—he couldn't figure. He directly fell on the desk as he sat down with a dumbstruck expression.
Noticing the strange state that Rio was displaying, the other party slowly distanced themselves while the other people quickly lost interest and continued talking to each other.
Meanwhile, Rio, on the other hand, was suffering through an existential crisis—it wasn't the first time, but certainly it was the most shocking one.
'My name…is Rio Salem..? Isn't that the name of the teacher here on this desk..? So…I'm Rio Salem? That doesn't make sense, my name is...'
Not continuing his thought, he took the tablet on his desk in impulse and stared at the screen wanting to check his own appearance—but unfortunately the device scanned his face and opened by itself.
Year, 2400, August 1.
In the screen, something he can't believe was displayed like the natural obvious.
...In face of such mind-blowing and reality shattering situation, he feels like laughing. Everything....was simply unbelievable. Nothing about the situation was grounded by reality.
Reality, or everything he knew about ut—simply dissapeared. It was like a sudden shift from modern to fantasy. Yeah... that was an apt description of this situation.
Fantasy. A fucking, reality-shattering fantasy situation.
At this point, he knew that he was inside a different body. Or maybe this was his own body, but the soul was the one different?
He didn't know. Who is he anyhow? Is he Rio from 2021, or is he Rio Salem from 2400? Or maybe he was both?
Everything was just so bizarre and shocking that he simply smiled mirthlessly in face of the situation. Its either he gone insane or the world had gone insane, in all likelihood its most likely the latter.
Rio chuckled.
The others stared at him, looking straight into his vacant eyes and 'harmless' smirk. A strange feeling evoked from his laugh, making their bodies shudder.