Pain!
Such pain!
My head hurts so much!
The bizarre, whisper-filled dream shattered quickly. Kevin, who was sleeping soundly, felt an excruciating headache as if someone had struck his head with a club—or rather, as if a sharp object had pierced his temple and was twisting inside.
Ugh... Half-conscious, Kevin tried to roll over, tried to clutch his head, tried to sit up, but he couldn't move his limbs at all. It felt like he had lost control of his body.
Looks like I haven't really woken up yet. Still dreaming... Maybe I'll even think I've woken up but actually still be sleeping... Having experienced similar situations before, Kevin concentrated his willpower to completely break free from the shackles of darkness and illusion.
However, in this half-awake state, his will was as elusive as smoke, hard to control, hard to gather. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop his thoughts from scattering and stray ideas from surfacing.
Why would my head suddenly hurt so much in the middle of the night?
And hurt so badly!
Could it be a brain hemorrhage or something?
Damn, am I going to die young just like that?
Wake up! Wake up!
Huh, it doesn't seem as painful as before, but it still feels like a dull knife is slowly cutting inside my brain...
Looks like I can't keep sleeping. How will I go to work tomorrow?
Forget work! With this genuine headache, of course I should take a day off! No need to fear the manager's nagging!
Thinking this way, it doesn't seem so bad, huh? Hehe, stealing a half-day's leisure!
The waves of throbbing pain gradually accumulated into illusory strength for Kevin. Finally, he mustered the energy to arch his back and open his eyes, fully escaping the half-awake state.
His vision was initially blurry, then covered with a faint crimson hue. What he saw was a wooden desk in front of him, with an open notebook at the center. The pages were rough and yellowed, and a line of text written in strange letters was prominently inked in deep black.
To the left of the notebook, near the edge of the desk, was a neat stack of books, about seven or eight of them. To the right, embedded in the wall, were gray-white pipes connected to a wall lamp.
The lamp had a Western classical style, about half the size of an adult's head. The inner layer was transparent glass, and the outer part was caged with black metal.
Below the unlit lamp, a black ink bottle was shrouded in a faint red glow, its embossed surface forming a vague angel pattern.
Before the ink bottle, to the right of the notebook, lay a plump dark pen, its nib glinting slightly. The pen cap was placed beside a brass-colored revolver.
A revolver? Kevin was stunned. The things before him were so unfamiliar, completely different from his room!
Shocked and bewildered, he noticed that the desk, notebook, ink bottle, and revolver were all covered with a layer of crimson "veil," illuminated by the light from outside the window.
Instinctively, he lifted his head, his gaze gradually rising.
In the sky, above a black "velvet curtain," hung a crimson full moon, silently illuminating the scene.
This... Kevin felt an inexplicable terror. He stood up abruptly, but before his legs could fully straighten, another wave of pain struck his head, causing him to lose strength and fall back into the hard wooden chair.
Thud!
Ignoring the pain, Kevin pressed his hand against the desk and stood up again, turning around in a panic to survey his surroundings.
It was a small room with brown doors on either side. Against the opposite wall was a wooden bunk bed.
Between it and the left door was a cabinet with a pair of doors on top and five drawers below.
At the height of a person, gray-white pipes were also embedded in the wall, connecting to a strange mechanical device with exposed gears and bearings in some places.
In the right corner near the desk were things resembling a coal stove, along with kitchen utensils like pots and pans.
Beyond the right door was a cracked full-length mirror with a simple and rustic wooden base.
Glancing at the mirror, Kevin vaguely saw himself, his current self:
Black hair, brown eyes, a linen shirt, a thin build, ordinary features, and deep contours...
This... Kevin gasped, countless helpless and chaotic speculations flooding his mind.
The revolver, the European classical decor, and the crimson moon so different from Earth's—all indicated something!
Did I... time travel? Kevin's mouth gradually opened.
Growing up reading online novels, he often fantasized about this, but facing the real thing, he found it hard to accept.
Is this the so-called "fear of what one professes to love"? After several seconds, Kevin made a bitter joke to himself.
If not for the persistent headache keeping his thoughts sharp and clear, he would surely suspect he was dreaming.
Calm down, calm down, calm down... Taking several deep breaths, Kevin tried to quell his panic.
Just then, as his body and mind harmonized, fragments of memories abruptly surfaced, slowly unfolding in his mind!
Klein Moretti, a native of Tingen City in Ahowa County, Ruen Kingdom, Northern Continent, a recent graduate from Hoy University with a degree in history...
His father, a sergeant in the Royal Army, died in a colonial conflict in the Southern Continent. The compensation allowed Klein to attend a private grammar school, laying the foundation for his university admission...
His mother, a follower of the Goddess of the Night, passed away the year Klein got accepted into Hoy University...
He has an older brother and a younger sister, living together in a two-bedroom apartment...
The family isn't well-off, even struggling, currently relying on his brother's clerical job at an import-export company...
As a history graduate, Klein mastered Ancient Feysac, considered the origin of Northern Continent languages, and Hermes, often found in ancient tombs related to rituals and prayers...
Hermes? Kevin's heart skipped a beat. He pressed his throbbing temple and looked at the open notebook on the desk. The strange text on the yellowed pages seemed to shift from unfamiliar to recognizable, and finally, to readable.
It was written in Hermes!
The deep black ink read:
"Everyone will die, including me."
Hiss! Kevin felt an inexplicable terror, his body instinctively leaning back, trying to distance himself from the notebook and the sentence.
Weak and nearly falling, he hurriedly steadied himself on the desk, feeling the air around him grow agitated, with faint whispers echoing in his ears, reminiscent of scary stories told by elders in his childhood.
Shaking his head, he reassured himself it was just an illusion. Kevin stood firm again, taking his gaze off the notebook and breathing heavily.
At this moment, his eyes fell on the brass-glowing revolver, a sudden question arising in his mind.
"How could Klein's family afford and access a revolver?" Kevin frowned in thought.
In his contemplation, he noticed a half-red handprint on the edge of the desk, darker than the moonlight, thicker than the "veil."
A blood handprint!
"A blood handprint?" Kevin instinctively opened his right hand that had pressed the desk earlier, looking down to see his palm and fingers stained with blood.
Meanwhile, the throbbing pain in his head continued, slightly easing but never ceasing.
"Did I hit my head?" Kevin wondered as he turned toward the cracked full-length mirror.
A few steps later, a medium-built figure with black hair and brown eyes, exuding a scholarly aura, was clearly reflected in the mirror.
Is this me now, Klein Moretti?
Kevin was momentarily stunned. As the light in the middle of the night wasn't sufficient, he couldn't see clearly. He moved closer until he was just a step away from the mirror.
In the crimson moonlight like a veil, he tilted his head to check the condition of his temple.
The mirror clearly reflected a hideous wound at his temple, its edges scorched, smeared with blood, and gray-white brain matter wriggling within.