For a while now, I've been in this new life – if you could even call it that. These people pretending to be my parents genuinely seem to believe I'm their child. My name is Lucian Kade, but they call me Luck. A name as foreign to me as their home, their faces, and everything about this place.
I pace back and forth in my room, the dim light from the bedside lamp casting long shadows on the walls. My thoughts swirl in endless circles, a storm with no escape.
"What the hell is going on here?" My voice is a whisper, barely audible. "Am I dead? Is this hell?"
I stop in front of the mirror hanging on the wardrobe door, staring at my reflection. The face staring back at me isn't mine. The skin is pale, almost flawless. My hair is snow-white, slightly messy, yet somehow elegant. The eyes – deep black, empty, and bottomless – look like they could swallow secrets whole.
I touch my face, my cheeks, my neck. "And this body… This isn't mine," I murmur. A crooked smile creeps onto my lips. "At least I'm not ugly."
My gaze drifts to the window. The full moon hangs large and bright in the sky, its light cutting through the night's darkness. Outside, it's quiet. Too quiet. The kind of silence that makes you uneasy, that settles in your thoughts and makes every movement feel like a crime.
Lost in my mind, I eventually leave my room. The door creaks softly, and the hallway is cloaked in shadows. Only a faint light from the kitchen glows at the end of the corridor. I can hear them – the people who call themselves my parents. Their voices are muffled, but clear enough to understand.
"Still awake, Luck?" The woman who claims to be my mother calls out. Her voice is warm, kind – almost too perfect, like an act.
I step into the kitchen. She's sitting at the table with a cup of tea in front of her. The man – my "father" – leans against the counter, holding a mug of coffee. Both of them look at me, and for a moment, a strange weight presses down on my shoulders.
"Yeah," I finally say, keeping my voice calm, controlled. I force a smile onto my face, though it feels so wrong I want to wipe it off. "I couldn't sleep."
"Nightmares?" she asks, her eyes filled with concern. It looks so real. Her worry, her love – as if she truly believes I'm her child.
"Yeah, something like that." I sit down at the table, clasping my hands in front of me. My fingers tremble slightly, but I don't let it show. "Just a strange dream, I guess."
"You've been talking in your sleep a lot lately." His tone is casual, but I can feel his eyes studying me, as if searching for something he doesn't understand. "If something's wrong, you have to tell us, Luck. We just want you to be okay."
I nod and force myself to meet their eyes. "Thanks. I know."
The woman places her hand over mine. Her touch is warm, real. It almost makes me flinch, but I stay still. "We're just worried, sweetheart. You know you can talk to us about anything."
"I know." I nod again, staring at her hand. It feels so real, but inside, I'm screaming at every word, every look. They're not my parents. This isn't my home. And yet, here I am, playing along as if everything's fine.
"I… I think I'll head back to bed." I stand up, pulling my hand away. "Sorry for bothering you."
"You never bother us, honey," she says with a smile. "Sleep well."
"Thanks," I mutter, leaving the kitchen.
The door to my room clicks shut behind me, and I take a deep breath, then another. My heart races as if I've just survived a dangerous mission.
"They really believe it," I whisper into the darkness. "They believe I'm their child. Luck."
I collapse onto the bed, my head heavy with thoughts that hang like thick fog over my mind. Who are they? Why am I here? And what kind of game is someone playing with me?
I lie on the bed, staring at the ceiling, which feels as far away as an endless night sky. My head feels wrapped in cotton, heavy and sluggish. My thoughts race, crashing into the same questions over and over, threatening to drive me insane.
„Where am I really?"
I stare at the ceiling, trying to piece together the words in my head. If this is truly my new life… then what is it? A second chance? A fresh start? Or just a cruel deception? And why does everything feel so wrong?
"Am I… reincarnated?" The thought escapes my lips, barely more than a whisper, but it echoes in my head. It makes no sense. The last thing I remember is –
My heart clenches, as if an icy fist grips it tight. The light. The screech of brakes. The impact. The silence.
I swallow hard. "Reincarnated… but if so, where am I? Is this the past?" I think of the surroundings, the clothes these people wear, the technology. It all feels strangely familiar, yet different, as if someone rebuilt my world without knowing the details.
"Or…" My heart beats faster. "Am I in another world? Like in those isekai anime?"
The thought makes me sit up. I glance around the room, but nothing seems supernatural. No magical swords, no floating books or glowing lights. Just a normal room. Normal furniture. Normal people pretending to be my parents. But something about it all feels fake, like a painting that's too perfectly crafted.
"If this really is another world… why do I feel so… empty?"
I shake my head and fall back onto the bed. My thoughts jump from one possibility to the next, but no answers come. It's maddening.
But if this is another world… why was I brought here? Who or what did this? And why this family? Why this lie?
I close my eyes, but the thoughts won't leave me. What if this really is an isekai scenario? In the stories I knew, there was always a reason. A purpose. The protagonists were summoned to be heroes, to save a world, to find meaning in their new lives. But here?
"What's my purpose?" I murmur into the darkness. "Or… am I just a pawn in someone's game?"
A shiver runs down my spine, and I open my eyes again. The thought that someone deliberately brought me here, ripped me from my old life, is unsettling. Yet it feels… right. As if the answers are out there, waiting for me.
I sit up again, staring out the window. The full moon shines brighter than before, its light illuminating my face.
"If I'm here, then there are answers." I make the decision. I have to figure out what this place is – another world, the past, or something I can't even imagine.
"And if this is someone's game… then I'll find the player."