"Why isn't he moving? Is he dead?"

"Hush, are we doomed?"

"I reminded you, not to hit him so hard. Look what happened!"

"Young master… What have you all done to him? Young master…"

"It looks like we have to shut his mouth first…"

---

'Why is it so noisy here? Ah… my body, why does it hurt so much? Did I get into trouble again? Who's screaming? What kind of situation did I end up in now?'

Keith slowly regained consciousness, his vision blurred, blood dripping from his forehead, covering the right side of his face. He tried to focus through blood-filled eyes and the chaos of a fight among teenagers in a club-like place was the first thing he saw.

'Is it my blood?' He thought, staring at the crimson stream.

"Agh, damn… it hurts like hell… Hey guys, does anyone know who hit me?" Get on a table, Keith asks. His voice cut through the commotion, loud and defiant.

"Does he have a death wish or something?"

"Didn't he have enough!"

His words sent whispers through the room.

"Huh, you forget our faces so easily? So how about another round? Who knows that you remind us then?" A well-built teenager, sporting a sinister grin, approached Keith with his cronies, tossing their previous victim aside.

"Stop it, Abram! Leave him…" A beautiful girl tried to intervene, but her voice was lost in the tension.

"How can I not listen to my babz… Hey, get on your knees and beg for mercy, and I'll let you go today."

Keith couldn't help but laugh. He laughed at Abram's cheap threat, feeling like he was facing a madman. He climbed down from the table, grabbed a bottle of beer, downed it in one go, and stood in front of Abram, fearlessly.

"You…" Abram's anger flared, but before he could react, Keith struck first.

A powerful headbutt landed squarely on Abram's head, make him caught off guard. Before he could recover, Keith mercilessly and relentlessly attacks him without giving him a chance to retaliate. Witnessing their leader being turned into a pulp, Abram's cronies finally sprang into action.

"I don't have much time, come at once." Keith's challenge rang out, filled with excitement.

Though startled, they charged at Keith. Despite his battered condition, Keith held his ground. The fight ended with Keith leaving them crawling on the floor.

"Please… forgive us… Eric… Please…"

"Ehh… Is that all you got? Stand up…" Keith taunted, kicking them even as they pleaded for mercy.

"Young master…" The boy who had been beaten up before approached Keith, his voice trembling.

"Y-Young master… me?" Keith pointed at himself, confused.

---

The next morning.

"How much did I drink yesterday? My head… Wait, where is this place?" Awakening from sleep, the first question that popped into Keith's mind was his whereabouts.

Rolling around the bed, Keith took in his surroundings. It was a neat and large room, exuding a sense of luxury with paintings adorning the walls and valuable antiques placed on the table.

"Wow, nice room… wait, why am I anyway here? Why does my head and body hurt so much?" He got up and approached the mirror.

"What the… Who is this?" He was startled upon seeing his reflection. A completely different person stared back at him. His appearance was a mess – a swollen right eye, a bandaged forehead, and bruises everywhere.

Vague memories of the previous night flashed in his mind – the fight, the teenagers.

"Young master, may I come in?" A voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Come in." One of the teenagers from the night before stood at the door, holding a tray.

"You… W-who are you? Where am I? Why do I look like this?" Keith grabbed the boy, pushed him against the wall, demanding answers.

"How do you expect to look after being beaten up? How many times have I warned you not to go, do you ever listen to me?" The boy shot back, tears welling up in his eyes. "I am quitting. Why should I continue to serve someone who lacks conscience or gratitude for what I've done for him all these years? And as for your question, who am I? I am Aiden, Aiden Chris, not just some you or b*****d..."

"…"

"What… why are you looking at me like this? Do you think I would never quit? There's a limit to everything. Not only was I forced to serve a weak young master, but I also had to sacrifice my flesh and blood to save you from harm, every day... I'm fed up..." Aiden's voice cracked.

"S-sorry." The word escaped Keith's mouth unexpectedly while hearing Aiden's words. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. Does your back hurt?" He questioned, remembering how he had pushed Aiden against the wall earlier.

"It doesn't matter when my whole body is hurting anyway…" Aiden replied, holding back his emotions. 

"Can we sit and talk?"

A few minutes later, after emotions calmed.

"What's in it?" Keith asked, pointing to the dish on the tray.

"Hangover soup…"

"Did you cook it?"

"Who else would have made it for you?" Aiden handed the dish to Keith, not gently, almost like throwing it at him.

"Are you serious about what you said earlier (about quitting)?" Keith inquired, finishing the soup quickly, he inquired, curious.

"It was just a moment of emotional outburst, don't take it seriously. Remember one thing, YOUNG MASTER ERIC JONAS, if I wanted to quit, I would have done it years ago. We've been through difficult times together, and why should I leave now, especially when you are finally ready to fight back for your rights! So, quickly freshen up, I will bring something to eat." Without dwelling much on his master's sudden change, Aiden left the room to prepare breakfast.

'Eric, is that my name here? Why does it feel familiar?' Trying to solve the puzzle, Keith comes to one answer.

"Darkness… Did I end up in that damn novel?!!!"