I felt… nothing. No matter how desperately I tried to move my hands, they remained as distant as fading memories, foreign and untouchable. My vision, too, was hollow— a vast and unyielding darkness stretched endlessly around me, as if I had been swallowed by the night itself. It was like I was in a dreamless slumber, an eternal drift.
I tried to look around, to catch a glimpse of something, anything—but there was only the consuming void. Time lost its meaning as I floated, bodiless and forgotten, a shadow with no anchor.
Then, just as the numbness seemed absolute, I felt it—a force, faint yet insistent, lifting me upwards. Towards… the surface? Was I underwater? My mind scrambled to grasp the reality, but before I could even begin to comprehend what was happening, I was pulled away from the darkness, into a light that burned my eyes.
Slowly, awareness trickled back. My eyelids— they were open. My eyes burned with a fierce, raw ache, the sting making me want to cry. My body felt weighted, as if shackled to the depths of the ocean, I could see a hand– my hand, drifting before me, ghostly and pale in the watery light. I tried to move it, but I couldn't even feel it. My limbs were distant—present, yet lost to sensation.
Was I even breathing? How was I alive? Was I alive, or somewhere beyond the bounds of life? The question flickered without urgency, bringing a strange peace. If I had died, if I had drifted away from life's frenzied grasp… yes, perhaps that was a relief. A strange serenity rose within me, calming the echoes of questions left unanswered. My eyelids grew heavier, descending like the close of a curtain until all was darkness once more.
So, this is how I die, I thought, a whisper in the silence. How beautifully, beautifully pathetic.
°°°
"Hck! " A ragged breath scraped past my lips as I struggled to pry my eyes open, but my lids remained weighted.
Then, just barely, I felt it—the warmth of sunlight, faint but real, pressing gently against my cold skin. Somehow, I was no longer underwater. But before I could make sense of it, I felt myself being engulfed by the darkness once again.
'Damn it, she's not going to make it!' A man's voice rang out in my head, sharp with panic. I felt his arms around me, carrying me with an urgency that cut through the haze.
"Miss! Little miss, open your eyes!" he shouted, setting me down on what felt like a rock. His voice was desperate, a raw, pleading tone that kept me anchored, pulling me toward a reality I couldn't yet fully grasp.
"William, what are you doing? You can't just leave your post and jump into the water like that! What if an executive saw you?!" a different man's voice rang through my ears, an older voice. I could hear them, but I couldn't make sense of anything.
I tried to open my eyes again, but it felt like trying to lift a car with bare hands—basically impossible. Still, something felt different this time. A strange sensation was building up inside me.
My throat burned, raw and desperate, before—
"Hck, gh!" I lurched forward, coughing up water all over the poor guy holding me.
My throat— it was like the first time that I had tasted alcohol, a burning sensation and a sour aftertaste. My body hurt and ached as if I had just came back from an intense workout session. My limbs were numb and cold, but I managed to lift my hands up to wipe off the excess water on my eyelids.
Finally being able to open my eyes and look around, the first thing I noticed was a man in a black suit, holding me and speaking, or rather asking questions, to me. He had a soft yet stern tone of voice, suiting his soft features that consisted of a smooth skin accompanied by hazel eyes that had a youthful glow in them, contrary to his mid-30s appearance. His wet crimson hair clung to his face, dripping onto his soaked, formal-looking clothes. The sight made me think he must be a businessman, though now he looked more like a wrecked castaway than anyone who belonged in a boardroom.
So this must be the man who… "saved" me.
Great.
I'm alive.
Why do I feel so annoyed…?
"Little girl, are you alright?" Now I could understand what he was saying but whenever I opened my mouth to speak, coughs were all that got out.
"kh- I— huk– am-" between my struggles, I managed to tell him I was fine. In response, he sighed in relief. I tried to piece together how I'd ended up in this place, but my mind kept looping back to a single image—books. I'd been heading to buy one, but the rest was a haze. I remember falling, and I could swear that something struck my head as I fell. Pain throbbed at my temples, a dull, unrelenting ache that made it hard to think straight. God, it hurt. It felt like something was digging into my brain, as though the memory was there, buried, but just out of reach.
But where was I now? Why was I here? How did I even end up here? Questions swirled in my mind like a storm, left unanswered.
°°°
After some time, a man named "Sam", who was also a member of whatever company these men belonged to, picked me up and carried me as the man who got between me and death walked alongside us.
Realizing that I had somehow ended up on a port, and that these people were the ones responsible for the area, I was struck speechless. My mind reeled, and I couldn't manage a single word as they carried me into an infirmary. They settled me onto a bed, then quietly slipped away, leaving me alone with my thoughts. In the quiet of that room, my head spun: How on earth did I get here? What just happened? Every question piled up, tangled in confusion and disbelief.
After a moment of solitary silence, a man with black hair, which was slicked back, entered the infirmary. Being all alone with this stranger sure did make me uncomfortable, but what other choice did I have? I may have very well trespassed on their property, although unintentionally.
He was dressed formally as well, but the way he navigated within the infirmary reminded me of a doctor, so I assumed he was one. Considering how everyone else left before he came in, they must've called him to check up on my condition. I was literally drowning when they found me, after all.
But there was something about his demeanor—a sense of authority, a quiet confidence— that made me feel as if he was someone important, someone of higher rank. Then, as his gaze settled on me, I noticed his eyes.
His eyes… they were purple.
That—that's definitely not a normal eye color. For a split second, my mind raced through possibilities. Did he have some rare health condition that caused his eyes to look like that? Or maybe he was wearing colored lenses? Yeah… that must be it.
"Hello," he muttered softly, keeping his tone professional, so I responded accordingly. "Hello, sir." My voice came out strained, but he didn't seem to mind at all.
"Do you know where you are?" Am I supposed to? I shook my head, my throat was still sore so I didn't want to talk much. "Very well then." He exclaimed and calmly sat on the patient bed I was laid on, but he still kept his distance from me.
"You somehow ended up in Lunaris's port, and was rescued by one of my men." His men? So I was right to assume he was of high ranking! He must be the CEO or boss of whatever this organization is-
"So, you were rescued by the Shadow Syndicate." he uttered and I felt my heart skip a beat.
The what?
Then, the realization hit me like cold water, he said Lunaris.
As in like- The Children Of Miseria?
"…What?"
He just stared at me like I was an idiot, and raised his eyebrow with a playful look on his eyes. "You didn't know?" I'm in The Children Of Miseria…? No, that's just– impossible. Yeah. No way. I must have somehow ended up in somewhere else called Lunaris where, oddly enough, the port is run by a mafia called the Shadow Syndicate, just like it is in the novel- yes, yes! That must be so! Right…
'Ah, fuck. I have been isekai'd, haven't I? Or is it isekaied? Isekaid? Meh. Who cares. Reincarnation sucks. Isekai sucks. Sebastian sucks- SEBASTIAN! RIGHT, SHIT!'
While I was lost in thought, Mr. Mafia boss took the opportunity to get closer and inspect my current condition. His name was 'Sebastian' and now that I looked at him, he was a carbon copy of what the novel described: Cold, calculating purple eyes with hair as dark as the night sky, tanned skin with various scars on his arms.
"Ah- sorry." I muttered sheepishly, realizing that I had been looking at him with wide eyes this whole time. I must have looked like a fish out of water. Which, by the way, does fit the situation…
"The mafia?" I asked, feigning a wide-eyed innocence, hoping he'd buy that my stumbling into their territory was an accident. I tried to look as lost as possible, anything to convince him I wasn't here on purpose.
He studied me, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "So, how exactly did you end up on the port?" His tone was patronizing, as if I were some helpless stray that had wandered too far from home. It grated on my nerves, but I had to play along. Survival mattered more than my pride.
I gave him my best lie. "I just… remember jumping off a bridge. The next thing I knew, I washed up here." I knew that there was a bridge near the mafia's headquarters– maybe he'd believe the current swept me into their path. I just needed him to think the waves had done me a favor, even if fate hadn't.
"And why would you jump?" he asked, eyes narrowing. There was a sharpness to his gaze now, a curiosity that felt like an unraveling thread.
"I… I don't know," I answered, trying to sound as blank as possible. But his stare lingered, and under that intense scrutiny, I felt a strange emptiness pull at me.
Suddenly, Kieran's–the main character of The Children Of Miseria– words echoed in my mind. They fit my situation all too well. I muttered without thinking, "Is there really anything worth living for?"
I froze, realizing too late that I'd spoken aloud. Shit. Kieran had said those exact words to Sebastian— I could only pray that the scene hadn't unfolded yet.
"Hah!" To my horror, he let out a short, mocking laugh. "Oh, that's rich," he said, still chuckling as he turned his gaze back on me. "You know, you remind me of someone."
And there it was: I'd just painted a target on my back, practically invited him to see me as Kieran 2.0. Now, he was curious—and all too interested. Fuck.
"I see." I said in my best nonchalant voice, trying to seem clueless about who he was talking about. "Can I… go?" I asked, unsure of what kind of reaction he may have.
"Hm? Ah, by the way, what's your name?" he said, ignoring my question. And oddly enough, he has started speaking casually now unlike before. I didn't want to answer him, but in fear of offending him I reluctantly replied in a hushed voice.
"Asra."
"I'm happy we got to meet, Asra, I'm Sebastian Morris." yes, I know that– But I've got to act genuine. "Likewise, but, can I go?"
"Where would you go? What would you do?" He inquired, seeming worried in a sarcastic way. To be completely honest, I had no idea where I would go or what I would do, I had nowhere to return here. I could go to Miseria Investigations and hope that Arthur, the head of the agency, accepts me, but that would mean facing Edgar, a genius and lead detective, on a daily basis. He would no doubt figure me out.
I couldn't risk them finding out that I have knowledge of the future and past, so trying to befriend Edgar is also out of the question. I could try living on the streets, but honestly, being in the mafia seemed safer than that considering that this is Lunaris. If I became a secretary or something, wouldn't that mean I'd be safe? Of course, I could try becoming a secretary at the agency too, but still, there is the Edgar factor. That damned genius.
But then again, seeing how young Sebastian seems— though he still looks pretty old— I'm assuming it's still around some time in the beginning. So we have Kieran here, who isn't much far behind Edgar. But he is still young and probably wouldn't care about me at all, so the chances of him discovering me are lower. But can I really handle the brutal ways of the mafia…?
Oh fuck, I forgot about Sebastian.
"I don't know…" I answered honestly, hoping he sees me as useful enough to keep around. "I have nowhere to go."
"Then why don't you stay here?" Just the answer I was hoping for. I lowered my head and knit my eyebrows, trying to seem deep in thought. I focused on the floor which, now that I looked at it, was dirty with dried blood. Oddly enough, the sight didn't bother me at all. I just wondered whose blood it was and how long it had been there.
Looking back at Sebastian, I gulped and made eye contact. "Can I?" He is probably just trying to manipulate me, to use me, but his smile almost seemed genuine for a moment when he said "Yes" to me. It irked me.
'Cut the act, old man!'
"But what will I do in the mafia?" I finally asked the most important question and awaited his response.
"First, let's check your condition shall we?" This damn old man ignored me yet again and got up, walking towards a cabinet that held medical stuff. Taking a stethoscope out of the cabinet, he walked back to me and motioned me to turn my back to him.
'I don't trust you enough to turn my back, but I guess I have to…'
Sebastian used to be a doctor, although he is the mafia's leader now. He was a character I hated with all my heart because of how he treated people as if they were nothing more than tools.
After listening to my heartbeat and breathing, he instructed me to wait for him and left the room.
I sat alone in the quiet infirmary, trying to piece together the chaos that led me here. Just a few hours ago, I'd been standing on a bridge, getting ready to pick up another book. Then… the world had collapsed, literally. I hadn't exactly expected to wake up washed ashore in the world of The Children of Miseria, face-to-face with mafia operatives—and definitely not like this.
I let out a bitter laugh, leaning back on the cot and staring up at the ceiling. This place felt so hauntingly familiar, like the vivid kind of dream you almost convince yourself is real. And yet, here I was—flesh and bone, sore and drenched, and completely out of place. I closed my eyes, as if maybe if I shut them tightly enough, I'd wake up back in my own world. But no. The ache in my temples was all too real, the sounds outside this room sharp and clear.
"The Children of Miseria," I murmured softly, the title slipping from my lips like a secret. I hadn't said those words aloud in so long. This story had always been my sanctuary, the world I turned to when real life felt too heavy, too stifling. And now… now it was real.
I swallowed, feeling the weight of that title settle in my chest. 'It's a story about broken people,' I thought, as if reminding myself what this world was. 'A world where light and dark are woven together.' Maybe it was for my own sanity, or maybe it was my way of making sense of this surreal nightmare, but I kept thinking back to the novel.
It's set in Lunaris—the city that never knows peace. The detectives and the mafia are always at each other's throats, but they need each other, like two sides of the same twisted coin. I scoffed, half in disbelief and half in irony. Both sides have power, but here, power doesn't come without a price. Everyone has a 'gift,' but none of them are blessings. They're more like curses. Said gifts–powers– were called 'ether' here.
I closed my eyes and tried to remember the faces of the characters I knew so well—the detectives of Miseria Investigations, with their tortured souls and fractured pasts. They'd become almost like friends to me over the years, like familiar voices in the dark.
The detectives… they're relentless. Miseria Investigations is a sanctuary for the broken, the lost. But they're not innocent. None of them have clean hands. They're all fighting their own demons.
I paused, letting the familiar ache of the story fill me. It was strange, knowing this world so intimately, and yet being so utterly out of place in it.
And then there's the mafia. The mafia... They don't just rule Lunaris's underworld; they are the underworld. They keep order in their own twisted way, driven by secrets they keep buried. A shiver ran through me as I thought of Sebastian—the cold, calculating leader of the Syndicate. Sebastian… he sees everything like a game. Life's his personal chessboard, and he doesn't care who he sacrifices to win.
I laughed, a hollow sound in the empty room. They're not just the villains, somehow, they feel as vital to this world as the detectives do.
The main character, Kieran, was a member of the Shadow Syndicate since childhood. Having been raised in such an environment, he was brutal and did whatever was necessary for his success. He also grew too attached to death, seeking it like salvation.
I opened my eyes, letting out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. But this story— it isn't just about detectives and criminals. It's about people who are just… trying to survive, even if it costs them everything. It's about the cost of fighting for something good in a world that's broken. Everyone here is gray, everyone here has lost something, and every choice has a price. I looked down at my hands, feeling the weight of those words. I'd always connected to this story because it showed the ugly truth of living. The question wasn't who was right and who was wrong. It was, what were you willing to lose just to keep going?
The irony hit me like a punch to the gut. I'd spent so long reading this story to escape, and now I was trapped in it. This wasn't just a story anymore. This was real, and all the understanding I had wouldn't save me from it.
In The Children of Miseria, I was the outsider, and here, that meant one thing: the rules would be different for me.
Soon, the door creaked open, with Sebastian standing in the doorway. He waved his hand, motioning me to follow him. After blinking a few times, my brain finally started working and I ran to follow him.
"First, we will see what kind of talents you have, and I will assign you a position according to that." Oh, I honestly thought he would just make me an assistant and call it a day.. But I guess this makes more sense.
"Will there be a written exam?" I hoped not. In response to my seemingly absurd question, he just laughed and instructed me to follow him with a wave of his hand. Despite how small it made me feel, I quietly listened to his tacit order.
After a small walk, we arrived at the headquarters and I couldn't help but admire the beautiful buildings. The way the black-tinted windows reflected sunlight was simply mesmerizing… "This way," Sebastian called out to me, breaking me away from my dazed look and taking me inside, towards a darker corner.
Not long after, I was standing in front of a door that seemed to lead into a basement. I recognised the place immediately. It was where Kieran was held when he was captured in one of the chapters. He was a member of the mafia since childhood, but he left and joined the detectives later on in the series. This place was where they questioned people.
Oh shit, he isn't going to make me interrogate someone is he? Or worse, am I about to be tortured?
My latter thought proved to be false when we entered inside and saw Kieran talking with someone inside the basement-like room. Although "talking" may not be the best way to describe what I was seeing. The man had half his teeth pulled out, blood flowing out of his mouth like a river, probably slowly choking him. His fingers were also bloody and seemed to face different directions, all broken forcefully. His face and arms had various injuries, and he was shaking in pain.
I found the sight before me fascinating in a twisted way, how was he still alive and conscious after all that torture? I could only wonder. If it were me, I would've already begged to be killed the moment someone broke my finger. But he had a glint in his eyes, a glint that screamed a desire to live, to survive, and it fascinated me.
I could only describe his breathing as sickly, because I wasn't even sure he was breathing at first. He only had one or two deep breaths after holding his breath for a while. His eyes, barely open, focused on me after noticing us walking in. Despite the sweat forming on his forehead and his sickly breathing, his eyes looked at me with the look of someone determined to survive.
Kieran also noticed us, turning back with a nonchalant expression in his deep crimson eyes, hands bloody and dirtied. His cheek also had specks of blood on it. His messy dark-brown hair seeming even darker than normal in the dim lights of the room. He too was just like how the novel described; hollow red eyes, tanned skin and a bandage on his hand, which was always there for some reason.
"Boss?" He asked, probably awaiting an explanation as to why I was here and who I was.
"Kieran! Are you done with this fellow?" Sebastian responded cheerfully, which creeped me out a bit, but I managed to keep my uninterested facade up.
For some reason, the sight before me didn't affect me much. Despite the man's painful moans and loud breathing, I felt nothing but wonder. I wondered why he was being tortured, had he wronged the mafia in some way? Was he a member of an enemy organization of the mafia? I couldn't feel compassion for this man, let alone disgust. I was thoroughly surprised to learn that, perhaps, dying did change me. It seemed to have taken away my ability to feel certain emotions, such as sympathy.
I felt as if I were supposed to be disgusted, terrified, and should've ran the moment the heavy odour of blood reached my nose. But I did none of those. I stood and observed the situation, which confused me greatly. Why was I unable to feel such normal things?
Only when Kieran approached me did I notice that while I was lost in my thoughts, Sebastian had already explained my situation to him.
"You've been looking at him for a while now, you wanna give it a try and see if you can get him to talk?" Kieran asked, or rather demanded me to answer his underlying question, 'can you handle this?'
"Sure." I said confidently, internally shocking myself. "What are you trying to find out?" I inquired further.
"Where their leader is hiding."
"Okay."
I began walking towards the poor tortured man as he leaned away in fear. That was not the look of someone seeing a young girl coming towards them, but the look of someone who knows they are prey in front of a predator.
Speaking was never one of my strongest suits, so I didn't ask him anything. I simply stood in front of him with a sweet smile and touched one of his already broken fingers. As he flinched in pain, I realized how little this man mattered to me. He was just some nameless extra in my favourite novel, an extra character that had never been mentioned.
'He might have a family somewhere, waiting for him.' I felt my conscience tugging at me to remove my hand from his finger. 'But-'
'So may I.'
At that moment, I felt a familiar sensation. My eyelids felt heavy, I felt the need to keep them closed as if I would find myself in another world if I dared to open them. Darkness was all that I could see, all that I could feel.
Then-
'I will never tell them! I won't! I owe him my life, I will never betray him!'
A voice rang, it echoed in my mind, urging me to open my eyes, but I remained.
'There is no way they can find him in Luminara, he will be safe, I'll make sure of it!'
Luminara?
'Let them waste their time torturing me, perhaps this will give boss time to flee-!'
Ah, I see.
"That was rather easy." I said as I let go of his finger and opened my eyes.
The entire room seemed to hold its breath, drowning in a deadly silence.
"Luminara," I said and added, "His boss is hiding in Luminara. He is planning to escape, so you better be quick."
As it turns out, I have an ether. Quite the useful one at that.
I'm definitely doomed.
"Luminara?" Kieran asked curiously. I answered him with a simple yes, and he quickly ordered someone to go searching in Luminara. Meanwhile, Sebastian stood next to him with his eyebrows raised and a smirk on his face.
"So," Kieran began, "you are an ether user?" Again, ether was the name they used for special powers in this world. I didn't know what to say. The only thing I could call a power about me was writing, and yet I wasn't even that good at it, I had only managed to write one book. And only around two hundred people read my book, The Outsider, so I suppose the plot wasn't that interesting. It was a book about a girl who felt like she didn't belong to the world, an outsider, a stranger to all.
But then again, ether users in this world are usually inspired by books, so I suppose it wasn't impossible, although far-fetched. With a sigh, I accepted my fate as an ether user and smiled. "Yes, I am." —I suppose. Of course, I didn't let any hesitation show in my voice.
"Interesting" Sebastian said, his voice laced with curiosity. "Why didn't you mention that before?" I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Why didn't I mention it before? Because I didn't know! Stupid old man and his stupid questions.
"You didn't ask." I shrugged, keeping my tone casual. This should be an acceptable reason, right? At least it was for one of them, because Kieran looked at me with suspicion flickering in his eyes unlike Sebastian who seemed satisfied with my answer.
"So what is it? What can you do with your ether?" Kieran asked the question which was probably also on Sebastian's mind. I hesitated for a moment, not knowing how to answer. But after a few seconds, I decided to answer honestly.
"I'm not sure, I don't use my ether that much, I've never been curious about it." Okay, nevermind, that wasn't honest. I'm very much interested in my power.
"What is it called?" Sebastian asked with a subtle hint of suspicion.
"The Outsider." I answered without hesitation, deciding that it was a fitting name.
I'm absolutely doomed, I thought, the weight of the realization sinking in. If I'd known I could read minds, I would've ditched this place without a second thought— become a private investigator, or maybe a charlatan medium, making a fortune off people's secrets! I felt like a fool, deceived by myself, trapped in a game I hadn't even known I was playing.
"Such an ominous name~" Said Kieran— the one with an ether called The Tainted. Hah. Sarcastic bastard.
"You two seem to get along pretty well!" Sebastian suggested, which creeped me out. What is this old man thinking of doing now? "Ol- Sebastian, or, uh, boss," I began talking, almost calling him old man. "I thought you wanted to test me?"
"Yes, indeed, and you were splendid." I was? All I did was use my apparently-existing ability and learn where his boss was hiding. That was considered splendid? I would say above average by mafia standards but eh, being on my soon-to-be boss's good side is always a good thing.
I saw Keiran sigh with annoyance, which annoyed me as well. Just because he was my favourite character doesn't mean he gets to disrespect me. Or maybe it does, because I also found his reaction rather cute.
"Well then, Kieran, don't you need an assistant to help with reports since the last one… quit?" or died, because the way he said "quit" was suspicious as fuck. Also, why is he suddenly mentioning his need for an assistant? Is he- wait-
"NO-"
"No."
Kieran and I stared at each other in annoyance. His calm "No." was overshadowed by my loud protest, which was why he was annoyed at me. And I was annoyed at him for, well… existing. And for needing help, clearly, but refusing it just because that help happened to be me.
'Annoying mind-reader'
I swear I could hear him say that. It was written all over his face. That annoying suicide-lover!
'That was hypocritical-' I thought, wait, what? That was odd. I don't know why I thought that. Was I a suicide enthusiast? Why can't I remember?
I'm definitely sure my death wasn't a suicide. So why would I think that…?
Lost in my thoughts, I didn't realize that Sebastian had already walked all way to the door, holding it open and waiting for me.
"Ah- sorry." I muttered and ran towards him with one last glance at Kieran.
My favourite character. The one I cried so much for, the one I laughed so much with. He was right there, but it wasn't really him.
He wasn't a character anymore. He was a human, a very cruel one. A murderer, a criminal, a crying child.
Yet I felt nothing.
No longing, no excitement, no fear. Not even a sense of familiarity. He was just a stranger to me. Nothing more, nothing less. A mafioso, my soon-to-be superior. Seeing him covered in blood didn't disgust me, nor did it scare me. Imagining him torturing that man didn't make me feel anything either. But… When I finally looked at his eyes, I felt something.
A sense of ease. The ease of knowing I'm not the only one with those empty eyes.
That was, somehow, comforting.
I could tell he thought the same, because those cold eyes seemed to soften even if it was a little bit.
With that final look, I left the room and followed Sebastian.