He remained silent, his mind churning with questions and uncertainties.
The woman before him placed her right hand against her chest, her fingers slowly stroking over her heart as though she were trying to suppress something within. Her breath came out in a long, weary sigh, her shoulders slightly tense.
"It feels as though a fire is smoldering in my chest…" she muttered, her voice carrying an edge of frustration.
Watching her, he felt an inexplicable guilt creeping up his spine. He quickly averted his gaze, pretending to look at the scenery around them.
It's not my fault that I don't know how to wear a cloak, he thought bitterly. I lived in a world where cloaks were nothing more than costume pieces in movies or something worn at cosplay events. How was I supposed to know how to put one on properly?
Even though he knew his reasoning was valid, the weight of her disappointment still hung in the air like an invisible force pressing against him.
She remained silent for a moment longer before shifting slightly in the saddle. With an effortless motion, she straightened her back and adjusted her posture. Then, with the precision of someone deeply familiar with riding, she gave the horse subtle but clear signals—tightening her grip with her thighs, squeezing with her calves, guiding the horse forward.
The horse responded immediately.
Without warning, it began to move again, stepping forward with a slow but steady gait.
Caught off guard by the sudden motion, he instinctively tightened his hold around her waist, still gripping the cloak in his hands.
She didn't comment on his reaction, only keeping her eyes fixed on the path ahead. Then, as if it were nothing more than casual conversation, she said—
"When we nearing the city, I'll put the cloak on for you."
Hearing that, he gave a small nod. "Alright."
"I'll be moving a little faster now. Try not to hold on too tightly."
Another nod. "Okay."
At that, she seemed slightly amused. Tilting her head just enough to glance at him from the corner of her eye, she mused, "Hm? You're listening to me quite well all of a sudden."
"Well," he admitted without hesitation, "since I have a lot of questions, I figured I should probably listen to you properly."
She let out a soft chuckle.
"Good."
She continued, "I'm going to speed up now."
The moment those words left her lips, the horse's pace quickened and just as he was adjusting to the new rhythm—
"You're not from this world, are you?"
His entire body went rigid.
His breath hitched.
His mind blanked for a second before snapping back into focus, and in a heartbeat, he lifted his head to look at her, eyes widening in sheer disbelief.
"How do you know that?" His voice faltered.
Still, she did not turn to look at him. Instead, she kept her gaze fixed forward, her expression as calm as ever.
"How?" she repeated, as though the question was strange to her. Then, with a small shrug, she simply said, "Because I'm used to it."
A chill ran down his spine.
His disbelief only deepened.
"Used to it? What does that mean?"
"This isn't the first time it's happened," she explained in a casual tone, as if the topic were nothing out of the ordinary. "In fact, this is the third time."
His breath caught in his throat.
"Three times?!" he blurted out in shock.
She gave a small nod. "Yes. Twice before today."
His thoughts spiraled into chaos. The implications of her words sent a sharp jolt through his mind.
"Wait—" He swallowed, forcing himself to focus. "Are you saying other people like me… have entered this body before?"
"Yes."
The confirmation sent a ripple of unease through him and then suddenly Cassiel's words came rushing back to him.
"You are the last one."
At that time he thought—
The people she encountered before… they were also from Earth.
A sinking feeling settled in his gut. If there were others before him, then… what happened to them?
"…What happened to them?" he asked, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.
For the first time since their conversation began, she hesitated.
Then, finally, she answered.
"After one or two days, Theo… returned to normal."
Her words sent a cold chill through his body.
"…You mean they just… disappeared?"
"Yes."
A heavy silence stretched between them. He wasn't sure how to process this information.
It wasn't shock that overtook him—it was something else. Something deeper. Something that gnawed at the edges of his mind.
Why this body?
Lowering his gaze, he stared at his own hands while hugging her as though they might hold the answers.
What's so special about this body?
At first glance, Theo was just a weak child. Small. Frail. A boy who clearly harbored an intense fear of people.
If this body was special, then how? Of all the bodies they could've placed me in, why this one?
His heart dropped. He suddenly remember the bag. He had left it behind, near the tree where he woke up. The only clue about this body. This world. His only chance at understanding what was happening.
He needed it.
Without thinking, he reached forward and lightly patted her waist.
She felt the gesture and shifted slightly, glancing back at him.
"What is it?"
His voice was urgent. "Can we go back to the tree?"
She frowned. "Why?"
"I… left my bag there."
She blinked, tilting her head. "Bag?"
"Yes."
For a moment, she simply stared ahead, then let out a long, tired sigh, shaking her head.
"…Your bag is at home, Theo."
"…What?" His brows furrowed in confusion. "What are you talking about? I know there was a bag there—I touched it myself."
"That's why I said your bag is at home."
Her words only served to deepen his confusion.
What is that supposed to mean?
After a pause, she glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "You don't know anything about Theo, right?"
A cold sensation crawled down his spine.
So the bag connected to Theo's past? Had something happened to him? Just what kind of life did this kid live?
I feel like I'm in the novel.
"…No," he admitted quietly.
She exhaled through her nose.
"Then I'll tell you."
Adjusting her hold on the reins, she continued, "Theo was a cheerful boy," she began. "He treated everyone in his mansion with kindness—including the servants."
He almost laughed.
This is ridiculous. The story sounded like something ripped straight from the pages of a novel. A young master of a noble house, loved by all?
What next? A tragic backstory?
…Wait. If he was raised in a mansion, then that meant— a noble family? Damn! He is rich! But I'm pretty sure he is have some trauma.
His grip on the cloak tightened.
What kind of life did Theo live?
She continued, her voice carrying a weight that made the air feel heavier.
"But one day in the morning, the servants went about their tasks as they always did. Yet, an uneasy feeling settled over them."
He frowned. "Uneasy?"
"Yes," she affirmed, her tone low. "Something was… off. It wasn't until much later that they realized what it was."
She paused briefly, as if recalling the memory. Then, her voice softened, but the weight in her words remained.
"They hadn't seen Theo all morning."
"So you're saying… he wasn't in the manor like usual?"
"Exactly. Theo was always an morning person. No one ever had to wake him—he was up with the sun, greeting the day with a bright spirit." Her voice wavered slightly, though it was barely noticeable. "But that day… there was nothing. No cheerful footsteps. No quiet hums echoing through the halls. Just silence."
He could almost picture it—a grand estate bathed in morning light, its corridors eerily empty, void of a presence that should have been there.
"The servants grew concerned," she continued. "One of them finally decided to check his room. But when she pushed open the wooden doors—"
She exhaled.
"—it was empty. Not a trace of him remained."
A chill settled over him, and his heart pounded slightly faster.
"The servants panicked. They called out his name, scoured every hall, every room, every garden… but Theo was nowhere to be found. And with every passing second, their fear grew stronger."
A deep frown etched itself onto his face. Something didn't sit right with him and then, a thought struck him.
"Where were Theo's parents during all of this?" he asked.
She let out a dry chuckle, but there was no amusement in it.
"Theo's father, uncle Luke, was consumed by his duties. What else could he do? He is the patriarch of the Martenaz household, after all."
He inhaled sharply. Theo's father is a noble lord. He had suspected as much, but hearing it confirmed sent a strange feeling washing over him.
He had never been rich before. Back on Earth, he had spent most of his life in an orphanage, working tirelessly to earn a position where he could give back. Even as a professor, he had never sought wealth—he gave most of his salary to the orphanage that had raised him.
He never cared about himself. He only cared about them. And now? Now, he had woken up as some noble's son?