While browsing the internet, I used to borrow fake names, not something I invented myself.
In fact, one of the strongest features of the virtual world has always been the ability to say and do anything without consequences for your actions.
Each person has his own reasons for using a pseudonym, and these reasons differ from one person to another.
Some just want to read things that would embarrass them if anyone knew.
Some love a character, whether fictional or real, and take their name. Why not?
And some do it as a joke or for creativity. There are some names that make you die laughing or make your mind work.
But why do I do it? It goes back to the meaning of the name "Emiric."
No, the meaning of my name is great.
To be fair, it's one of the greatest names you could have.
So where's the problem? The problem lies in its greatness.
The name "Emeric" is used in many cultures as a personal name and is considered rare in some places, making it distinctive and unique. The name is associated with strength and nobility and has been carried by well-known historical and legendary figures.
I don't think I need to explain more than that.
I mean, why give a child this kind of name that might represent the opposite of their abilities, and from my name, you can infer all the harassment and mockery I've been subjected to.
I mean, why, among all the names I could have in my new life, why this name? Just, why?
After a little thought, it was always kind of a cliché to be reincarnated with the same name, and one way or another, they explain that at the end of the story.
Wait, don't say there's an entity manipulating me in secret, and after I reach a certain power, it will turn me into fodder.
Wait, is it possible that I'm in some kind of novel and there's an author controlling my fate?
(Author: Shit)
I quickly come to my senses. What am I saying? There's not even a superpower, let alone that I still exist in the same world.
(Author: Sigh, that was close)
If I think about it more carefully, it's no longer a problem.
I can even say the name has become appropriate with my position in society, but it's hard to accept because I grew up hating the name "Emiric."
The sound of car horns wakes me from my thoughts, but I'm still in the same state with my eyes closed since I got in the car.
Finally, I left the abandoned hospital, and yes, it was mine.
Yes, yes, I own a hospital, what an irony of fate! The place where I was tortured the most, I now own, and I'm not talking about hospitals in general, no, it's the same hospital where I used to have check-ups in my previous life.
It's fate when it sticks its tongue out at you or its middle finger, wherever it is.
As for the reason for closing my eyes, that's due to the girl sitting next to me.
I still don't know her name or her position. I've stolen glances at her repeatedly, hoping to notice something, but nothing.
There's no ring on her finger indicating she's unmarried, but that's not a condition, there are many married people who don't like wearing it.
What adds to my confusion is that she doesn't address me at all.
This is good in that the less contact with her, the higher the chances of not being discovered, but who is she?
"Sir, we're about to arrive. Everyone has been notified of the meeting time."
The girl and I are in the back, while in the front, Hank sits next to the driver with blue eyes and thick hair.
He reminds me of characters who are in isolation until it's later revealed that he's a mentally disturbed serial killer.
As if that's not enough, I heard Hank address him as Dexter, no comment.
By the way, Hank also has blue eyes.
Two black cars, one in front and one behind us, are escorting us all the way, filled with armed men about 30 people in total.
It makes me wonder exactly what position I hold, especially since the nameless kingdom doesn't allow carrying weapons except for high-level officials.
But it's clear that I'm not at that level, to what extent has the country's policy changed over the past five years?
"When exactly is the meeting time?"
As soon as I ask the question, my heart starts racing for the millionth time.
"In response to sir, two hours at most once we arrive."
My heart doesn't calm down until Hank answers me without any problems.
How long will I remain in this state where as soon as I ask a question, my heart starts pounding and doesn't stop until I make sure I haven't made a mistake in something? Without talking about the meeting, what will be the topic of discussion? What will they say and how will I respond? Ah, I'm a dead man for sure.
My only hope is my room, there must be some information there, right?
While reciting my prayers, the car stops announcing my arrival. I finally open my eyes to see a sight that takes my breath away. Damn, is this my house?
The house no, it's a palace.
A palace with gardens surrounding it from all directions. It reminds me of that castle that was a school for teenagers with special abilities.
Yes yes, the castle that exploded in every movie once. Wait, a moment, it won't explode, right?
"Sir."
I turn to the voice to find that Dexter has opened the door for me, waiting for me to exit. Damn, I need to stop thinking about useless things.
I get out of the car with all elegance and flexibility.
My control over the new body has improved, and to be more honest, I've really come to like it. Wearing a tight black suit to show off my lethal muscles, how awesome I look.
As soon as I reach the huge door decorated with golden ornaments, it opens to reveal a long, wide corridor. On its edges stand servants, both male and female.
Forget the males, as soon as my eyes fall on the females wearing black and white maid uniforms, strange desires form deep within me, which are quickly extinguished by their shouts:
"Welcome back, sir!"
I advance with steady steps, Hank on my right and the beautiful girl on my left. With every step I take, I feel my arrogance and self-confidence growing.
At the end of the corridor stands a maid with blue eyes. I look at her as I look at the sea when it is still.
Her hair is as black as the night tied in a ponytail. As for the curves of the body, all I'll say is "ah", I don't want someone to start playing with their little friend.
As soon as I reach her, she bows fully apologizing:
"Forgive me, sir, for not fighting alongside you. Forgive me, sir, for not facing danger with you. Please punish me, but do not exempt me from my meals."
She stands to look into my eyes.
I'm surprised by her attitude.
Since I woke up, I've seen fear and awe in the looks and trembling bodies of all servants and guards except for only three who gave me a different impression.
The first is Hank. Over time, I knew he was the right-hand man, and it's clear that the body's owner trusts him, so he informed him about the fake assassination plan.
The second is the girl. I've never seen someone as cold as her, and her face doesn't give any expression of emotion, which makes me confused about how to deal with her.
And the third is this maid. I can touch a kind of emotion in her features and sincerity in her voice, unlike the fear I see in the expressions of other subordinates.
Before I can utter anything, the words I've started to get tired of hearing come:
"My bones beg to be broken, and my flesh longs to be torn. There is no life after my failure, and no peace after my death. Please, sir, punish me for my incompetence."
Amidst all this noise, the beautiful girl passes by me with her indifferent expression, climbing the stairs.
I had the idea of following her but changed my mind at the last moment. It's better to avoid her for now.
Because of their screaming, I start to get a headache again. Wait, it seems that this body can't handle noise for some reason.
"If you don't shut up now, I'll make you regret every word you said."
The voice that emanated from me was sharp as a sword, piercing the air and cutting it.
Their movements stopped suddenly, and their eyes stiffened, while drops of their saliva accumulated on their lips.
The silence of the place rose as if cutting off their breath, enveloping the atmosphere with an aura of terrible calm.
Damn, I lost my temper again. I need to work on controlling my nerves.
In my attempt to change the subject, I ask Hank about anything that comes to mind.
"Hank, is everything ready?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good, good."
I put my eyes on the blue eyes of the maid thinking what next, what should I do? As if she felt my struggle.
"Sir, what do you think about preparing the bath while you rest in your room?"
Good good, but I don't know where the room is, and if I ask, I'll be exposed. Okay, let's try this.
"Good, but first I want to talk to you privately. Lead the way."
Complying with my order, she moves without asking any questions.
I follow her until I reach the door of the room. She turns towards me and bows, waiting for the subject I want her for.
I said what came to my mind while walking with her, finally not caring about anything anymore:
"I want the water to be warm."
"..."
He may be one of those who brags about bathing in cold water, thinking that it strengthens him. What happens to them? Do they think they are penguins?
Ignoring her expression, I open the door and enter the room.
If I said something wrong, I'll fix it after knowing everything from the room.
There must be information in the room, right?
I'm in the room at last. It wasn't as I really thought. I thought it would be luxurious, but on the contrary, it was simple, I can even say it was simpler than my room in my previous life.
It's indeed a strange contrast when we look at the palace from the outside compared to the inside.
The corridors I walked through and the antique furniture are undoubtedly works of art. I can say with confidence that if a member of the royal family visited, they might think I have aspirations to become a king.
I sweep the room with my gaze to notice a miniature picture on the desk.
In the picture, the body's owner appears sitting on the chair with the girl wearing a wedding dress next to him, and a smiling woman stands in the back.
So she was really my wife, but who is this woman now? Why every time I learn someone's identity, someone else comes who needs me to discover them.
I hold the picture and strip it of its special frame to discover writing on the back of the picture.
Emiric and Ivana. Ivana isn't a bad name. There's also a date. Wait, let me calculate.
I put the picture aside and start counting with my fingers. What, I'm not good at math.
We got married about 5 months before the assassination attempt. This is very close. It's impossible for feelings of love to suddenly turn into this coldness between us.
To resume the search, I opened the wardrobe.
All the clothes are suits of every color and shape.
There's no transparent shirt or short-sleeved one, and no shorts either. It gives the impression that he deliberately avoids showing any signs of fighting or bruises on his body, which confuses me.
Isn't it common for gangs to show their strength to gain respect? Why does he hide it?
After searching here and there, this is all I found. It's not enough, there must be something else.
I stand in the middle of the room contemplating the surroundings and ask myself, something is wrong.
My eyes fall on the shelves.
At the level of the shelves, there are books.
If we examine the books closely, we'll find that they are all diverse in terms of color and style, except for a book with its shape and somber color that attracts attention as if it's saying pick me up.
I heard its call, so I extended my hand to pick it up and opened it, surprised by the first word written in it.
Diary.