Chapter 1: Nameless

"Having endured loss and grief, we found each other.

Regret, an unending cycle that echoes through countless moments.

Decisions that alter the course of destiny,

written in blood and tears, observed by mortals and gods alike.

In embrace of each other, we found solace.

Come, let us write a tale that will never be told again"

Pain throbbed through Dev's skull like a relentless drumbeat, each pulse sending waves of agony coursing through his body. His consciousness floated in a haze of confusion, struggling to anchor itself to reality.

What happened?

His eyelids felt heavy as lead as he forced them open, only to find the world around him refusing to settle into focus. Everything seemed to shift and blur, as if reality itself was uncertain of its form. His thoughts came slowly, each one struggling through a fog of disorientation.

The room... This isn't mine.

The space around him felt wrong in ways he couldn't quite define. Dull gray walls loomed over sparse Victorian-era furniture, the air hanging unnaturally still and heavy. A part of him wanted to dismiss it all as a dream, but the gnawing sensation in his chest, the oppressive weight pressing down on him, told him otherwise. 

Was I drunk? The thought flashed through his mind, only to be rejected almost immediately. No—he didn't drink. Or at least, he always claimed he didn't. 

Focus, Dev. Think.

He tried to gather his scattered thoughts. Slowly, he pushed himself up from the bed, his limbs heavy and uncooperative, as if moving against an invisible force. The silence in the room was suffocating. Even the low hum of the fan above felt wrong, its mechanical rhythm far too steady, the air it churned unnervingly still. 

July 7th.

The date clung to him, the only anchor in a storm of confusion. Today was important. He was supposed to bring his family somewhere—a surprise. It was supposed to be the happiest moment of his life. The thought gave him a flicker of clarity, but it was gone before he could hold onto it. 

He staggered toward the door, his footsteps echoing impossibly loud in the stillness. Then, abruptly, he froze.

Stop.

His pulse hammered in his ears. Sweat prickled along his skin. His breath quickened, shallow and erratic. He turned his head, his eyes locking onto the mirror in the corner of the room.

No. This can't be.

The mirror held secrets that shattered his understanding of reality. Dark hair rippled with shades of mahogany and chestnut, cut in a style that straddled Victorian propriety and modern fashion. The face that greeted him might have been handsome in another context—but now it was a mask of horror, each familiar expression played out on unfamiliar features. Most striking were the eyes: deeply, impossibly blue, like fragments of twilight trapped in glass. They held knowledge that didn't belong to him, memories he'd never lived, dreams he'd never dreamed.

The reflection wasn't distorted or warped—that would have been a comfort. Instead, it moved with perfect synchronization, every gesture precise, every blink coordinated. It was alive in a way that transcended mere mimicry. This wasn't just someone else's face—it was someone else's life staring back at him, wearing his expressions like borrowed clothes.

His fingers traced the cold glass, and the stranger's hand met his touch. The sensation sent shivers down his spine—not from the glass's chill, but from the perfect reality of it all. No dream could manufacture this level of detail, this depth of wrongness.

Who is that? Is it me?

Ice seemed to crystallize in his veins as his mind reeled from the impossible sight. The room's Victorian elements suddenly felt more pronounced, more real, more threatening. His heart raced faster and faster until he feared it might burst from his chest.

Dev had always prided himself on his mental fortitude. Even in his darkest moments, he'd maintained his composure. But this—this complete violation of reality—left him utterly unmoored.

His body trembled uncontrollably.

I'm not dreaming. This is real.

He squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying to regulate his breathing, to find some kernel of rationality in this madness. Slowly, his hammering pulse began to steady. Then a chill swept through the room—not the natural cold of night, but something deeper, something that seemed to freeze the very marrow of his bones.

A whisper, so faint it might have been imagination, brushed against his consciousness.

Dev's eyes snapped open. His muscles tensed as the moonlight filtering through the window seemed to flicker and dance with unnatural rhythm. The cold intensified, and with it came a terrible certainty that settled into his soul.

I'm dying.

The realization came with the inevitability of twilight, as warmth and vitality drained from his body like water from a broken vessel. His vision began to dim around the edges, reality bleeding away into nothingness.

What have I done? Why is this happening to me? Is it because I never believed in God?

For the first time since childhood, he felt utterly helpless, like a small boy watching disaster unfold in slow motion.

Help... please someone. Anyone.

A clock ticked softly in the distance: 12:00.

Suddenly, clarity returned to his vision, bringing with it a strange new awareness. The room no longer felt alien—instead, it carried an odd familiarity, like a place visited countless times in dreams. His body felt lighter, more vital, yet fundamentally changed in ways he couldn't comprehend.

An inexplicable force drew his gaze to the window. There, in the darkness, stood a figure. Bathed in moonlight, calm and steady as if it was standing there for an eternity.

A girl.

She stood alone, her silhouette melting into the night as if she were its very essence. Her presence consumed the space around her, an otherworldly beauty that seemed both fragile and eternal. The corset dress she wore shimmered like midnight itself, her gloved hands resting delicately at her sides. Her crimson lips curved into a smile that held infinite sadness as a single tear traced its way down her porcelain cheek.

Who is she? Why is she crying?

In that moment, all the questions swirling in his mind vanished, dissipating into the void. Nothing else mattered.

And then, she collapsed.

Her collapse was graceful, silent, inevitable—like watching a star fade from the night sky. Even in her weakness, she commanded the very essence of the darkness around her.

Dev lurched forward on unsteady legs, fighting against his own failing body to reach her. His knees gave out and he fell, finding himself face to face with this otherworldly being, close enough to see the depths of emotion in her inhuman eyes.

Her voice, when it came, seemed to resonate with the very fabric of reality: "Are you alright... my lord?"

Dev struggled against the encroaching darkness, his consciousness flickering like a candle in the wind. Yet his gaze remained fixed on the girl before him, her fragile appearance belying the power he sensed within her. Despite his deteriorating condition, he felt an inexplicable connection to her—something beyond mere chance or coincidence, as if their meeting had been written in the stars themselves.

Without thinking, he reached for her hand. Her skin was cold as midnight frost, but the contact sent warmth spreading through his dying body, anchoring him to this moment, this reality.

The room around them felt suffocatingly still, the silence so deep it resembled the oppressive quiet of a coffin. An otherworldly presence filled the space, raising goosebumps along his skin and setting every instinct screaming of danger.

Unknown to Dev, a third presence watched from his bed. A figure in a tattered wedding dress, its face a void of absolute darkness, observed their final moments with eternal patience.

At 12:02 AM, Dev and the mysterious girl drew their last breaths in perfect synchronization, their hands still joined. A single tear fell, its impact silent against the floor.

Dev awoke, startled, in an unfamiliar place. His surroundings were shrouded in darkness, with a dense mist curling around him like a living entity. This was no dream. The sharpness of his thoughts confirmed that. Questions bombarded his mind, each one feeding his growing fear of the unknown.

Did I just die? Is this what awaits beyond life?

Before panic could fully take hold, an ethereal voice cut through the darkness.

"Why did you save me, my lord?"

The voice was soft yet poignant, tinged with emotions he couldn't quite place. Turning, he saw her again—the girl who was more than human, whose beauty defied mortal understanding. Her corset dress seemed woven from shadow itself, making her appear as if she'd emerged from the darkness rather than merely standing in it.

Dev forced himself to focus, to analyze the impossible situation before him. Years of betrayal had taught him caution, and had ingrained the philosophy of revealing nothing until absolutely necessary.

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice a little shaky despite his attempt to sound authoritative.

Her crimson eyes captured him, seeming to peer into his very soul.

"I am Anira Veil. At least, that is what those who can perceive me call me."

Her face remained a mask of serenity, but Dev's mind raced with calculations. His experience as an IT professional and his years of analyzing problems let him quickly deduce three crucial points: this girl had mistaken him for someone else, this world was not his own, and he was in far more danger than he'd ever been before.

I've transmigrated. All those novels and mangas I've read as a self-proclaimed weeb elite didn't prepare me for how terrifying this actually is. This isn't some fantasy world with convenient exposition or friendly guides. It's not like some cat or elf girl is greeting me with exposed breasts.  

This is real, and it could kill me.

He studied Anira carefully, weighing his next words. His intuition told him she had saved him somehow, but if she discovered he wasn't who she thought he was, death might be the kindest fate awaiting him. He needed to know more about the relationship between her and this body's original owner.

"Anira, why didn't I see you before?"

She opened her mouth to respond, then hesitated, uncertainty flickering across her perfect features. Her gaze lowered, as if searching the darkness for answers.

"....I am sorry, my lord. It's just a moment ago I found out about you using my vision. Before this, I was searching for you, but I was never able to find you, no matter what," she admitted apologetically.

Dev frowned slightly.

Vision? Sounds like something a street fortune teller would claim. But in this world...

He filed away every word she spoke, building a mental database of information. Two possibilities emerged: either the body's original owner was some hidden power player meant to meet Anira tonight, or she was somehow looking for Dev himself. The first option seemed far more likely.

"Anira... do you know what happened after we died?"

"I am uncertain," she replied with unnatural calm. "But I know this: your Brahman was being devoured by an Oddity. I came to intervene, but my own life force was already at its end. I believed I had perished, yet something pulled me back—your Brahman, merging with my existence. It anchored me here."

Brahman? Oddity?

The terms meant nothing to him, yet Dev understood the unknown language used by Anira perfectly—another mystery in a growing collection. 

Is it Chinese ? Russian ? No. I don't think I know this language at all. But then again I am not some linguistic expert. Maybe this is part of a gift as a transmigrated person.

A cynical part of his mind suggested hidden cameras and elaborate pranks, but he knew better. This was far too real, too dangerous for such mundane explanations.

The mist swirled around them like a living thing, reminding him of their precarious situation.

"Where are we? And how do we leave? Are we even alive?"

Anira tilted her head slightly, her composure unwavering. "We are not dead, my lord. Consciousness does not linger in death. This place... it feels like an extension of myself, yet I cannot fully comprehend it. Perhaps I can sever my connection to it. May I have your permission to try?"

Dev hesitated before nodding. "Go ahead."

The moment he gave consent, the darkness began to recede. Reality shifted and reformed around him until he found himself back in the familiar room. The clock read 12:05 AM, and moonlight streamed through the window, casting soft shadows across the floor. The oppressive atmosphere had lifted, replaced by the gentle sounds of night. The shadowy figure was gone, and so was Anira.

Dev sat up, his mind reeling from everything that had transpired. "What just happened...?"