Ian opened his eyes lazily, his gaze meeting a dull steel ceiling. Slowly, he raised his right hand from beneath the blanket and pinched his nose, closing his eyes tightly. His hand then moved unhurriedly to his forehead, opening his eyes and blinking rapidly.
Still with his hand on his forehead, he turned his head to take in the room. It wasn't very large, but it was still bigger than his apartment bedroom.
The room had a minimalist style, though the metallic structure of the place stood out. There were no windows, and the lighting was artificial, coming from fixtures along the intersection of the walls and ceiling. Currently, the lights were dim, which helped his still-dazed eyes adjust. He could make out a plastic or ceramic-looking door to his far right, facing the bed. He assumed it led to the washroom.
Slowly, Ian got up and sat on the edge of the bed. He stayed there for about thirty seconds, taking in more of the room before standing up. As soon as he did, the dim lights brightened, causing a slight discomfort to his eyes. He still felt some exhaustion in his muscles, but it was more like the aftermath of an intense gym session rather than the fatigue he'd felt earlier.
Water. I need water, Ian thought, his thirst unbearable. He walked toward the opening that he'd assumed led to the washroom, and his assumption was correct. A familiar setting greeted him—there was a mirror and a sink.
The sink and faucet, however, were strangely shaped. He didn't care much for them at the moment; all he wanted was to drink. He grabbed a small container that he assumed was for a toothbrush and toothpaste, and he placed it under the odd-shaped tap. All he had to do was place it there, and the container filled with water. He drank greedily, taking the first drink like it was a shot.
As he went for a second drink, he glanced at the mirror, and that's when he froze. The reflection that met his eyes wasn't his own, but that of a complete stranger. His hair was a pale blonde, almost white, medium-length, and ear-length. His skin was light brown, just a few shades off from white. His eyes were almond-shaped and feminine, with a small nose, small but full lips, and an overall boyish face and structure.
His wet right hand grabbed one of his locks, slowly tracing across his face. His index finger rested on his lower lip as he stood there frozen for what felt like two minutes. He hadn't heard the door open, nor had he noticed the figure standing across from him at the opening, studying him.
"Ehem!" A voice cleared its throat.
Ian turned quickly, his eyes widening as he saw an auburn-haired woman standing there, a smile playing on her face. She glanced at the mirror for only a second, then back at him. With a funny accent, she said, "You're a pretty boy, but don't get too obsessed with yourself. Girls don't like that, you know."
"No, that's not—" Ian began, about to defend or explain himself, but he lost his train of thought. Nai. Again. The old man called me that too... It was weird—his name, backward, but it was becoming clear that they knew him more than he'd thought. Or was this his name? The one in the mirror? He was certain of one thing: whatever had happened since he arrived, it was far from normal. But what could he do?
He didn't know if he was in a dream—no, it felt too real for that. But if it's not a dream, then what is this?
The woman chuckled lightly and interrupted his spiraling thoughts. "Oi! You okay? None of that usual corky response? Or did dying make you humble?" She said with a teasing tone, studying Ian's confused face.
Ian blinked, still processing. "I—just need some time. Dying's no joke, you know."
She raised an eyebrow, turning to lead the way down the hallway. "Come on, been asleep for sixteen hours, and from the looks of it, you're hungry and thirsty. Lucky for you, it's supper time."
She continued walking slowly, and Ian followed her. The hallway was narrow but wide enough for two people to walk side by side. The metallic walls and floors made the place feel more like a ship than anything else.
"Like the view or something?" the woman teased, glancing back at Ian, who was lost in his thoughts.
"I'm... just thinking," Ian muttered, not really sure what to say.
The woman sighed, clearly unimpressed. "I don't like this new you. Better not be permanent." She shook her head but didn't elaborate.
Ian had no response. The tension in the air between them was palpable.
They entered a large, circular room with a table that had twelve seats, three of which were already occupied. A muscular man was setting food and plates on the table. Ian recognized the old man—Yhon—who had helped him out of the river. He now had a clearer view of Yhon's face. He had black hair with graying edges and blue eyes. His face was rugged, with age showing in the lines around his eyes.
"Finally awake, boy!" Yhon called out in a loud, jovial voice as Ian and the woman entered. He flashed a grin, showing off surprisingly good teeth. "Come, sit next to me, unless you want to sit with that beast over there."
Ian glanced from Yhon to the woman, but she didn't respond, just walked unhurriedly to the man standing by the table. It was quiet for a moment before—
Bam!
The woman punched the man in the face. He hadn't even tried to block it. He fell from his reclining posture, and the woman took his seat, looking back at Ian with a grin.
"Oi! Add that to the list of things girls don't like," she said, clearly enjoying herself.
A man seated at the opposite side of the table chuckled. "Aggressiveness? Yhon was flirting, I think."
"No, Yhon," the woman responded dryly, "they just don't like him. Look, he's nearly two hundred and never been married."
Ian couldn't help but chuckle softly at the exchange, but as he was about to sit down, another person spoke.
"Ayy, Nai," the man next to him teased, "Not going to whine about that seat and the one for your little girlfriend today? Or have you finally grown up and got your eyes on Janta here?"
Janta, still laughing, grabbed Ian by the shoulder and said, "If this is true, I'll give you one night to impress me. If you can't, I'm sorry, but it won't work between us."
They all continued laughing, and eventually, more people filtered into the room, filling the remaining seats. Finally, a woman walked in and took a seat at the head of the table. She had short, wavy hair the same color as Nai's, pale skin, and an air of authority that contradicted her youthful appearance. Ian placed her age at around twenty-five.
She glanced at Ian for a moment before sighing and turning away, waiting for the rest of the seats to fill. The brief but intense look she gave him made Ian wonder if she knew something he didn't.
The last person to walk in was a girl, probably around sixteen or seventeen. She had raven-black hair and pale skin, though not as pale as the woman at the head of the table. Her eyes were dark, her features delicate, and her overall presence striking.
As the girl sat, the last seat was taken, and the table was ready for dinner.