Luke's eyes snapped open and he immediately started gasping for air. The first thing to enter his vision was the low and uneven ceiling and its wooden beams that were warped with age.
The plaster was discolored and faint water stains were spreading like inkblots from where the raindrops had once seeped in through the roof.
A cobweb swayed gently in the corner. All these foreign yet familiar things registered in his mind, making him wonder, Where am I?
"Abel, Lord help us, you were tossin' and twitchin' under the blanket! You're drenched in sweat, lad, did you have a nightmare?" A panicked voice called out to him from the side.
Luke almost jumped in fear. He turned his head to the side, his gaze landing on an old woman wearing a simple, ankle-length gown, and a knotted headscarf, looking at him with concern.
The youth's eyebrows furrowed. He was able to immediately recognize this person thanks to the memories that had already assimilated with him while he was unconscious.
Strangely enough, he felt like he could even speak the local language now. So, he gave it a try.
"Aunt Peggie?" He muttered in a low voice.
"Lord above! The blow to your head must be worse than I thought! You don't even recognize me, do you? By heavens, it is a miracle that you're breathin'!"
Margaret "Peggy" Henshaw couldn't help but turn emotional. She was, after all, Abel's neighbor and had known him for several years now.
Blow to my head? Luke thought with a confused look on his face. He reached out for his forehead and found that there was a thick bandage around it.
Slowly, he started to recall more and more things. But the events surrounding his, or rather Abel's death were still blurry.
That's right! I died… and then I woke up in a strange alley. There were these thugs who threatened me, and then… What happened after that?
Luke looked toward the kind-looking woman sitting by his bedside and asked, "Aunt Peggie, how did I get here?"
"Oh, there were these two finely dressed gentlemen who found you lyin' by the street down by the waterfront district. Kind souls, they were—helped you get home. If not for them, lad, I dread to think what might've become of you!"
"Two gentlemen…" Luke repeated her words.
Yes, I remember that old man, he thought. He found me on the street, but what happened after that… I'm not sure.
He looked at the old woman and pressed, "What happened afterwards?"
Aunt Peggie seemed like the talkative type. He thought that it would be nice to get all the details from her. The more information he could gather, the better.
"Oh, you truly don't remember a thing, do you?" The old woman spoke with pitiful eyes, but then it suddenly dawned on her. "I suppose it makes sense. You were unconscious, after all."
Luke's lips couldn't help but twitch at her remark.
"These two gentlemen arrived in a carriage," she continued. "I saw them through the window when they pulled up. But when I caught sight of you—bloodied and battered—I was beside myself!
"I rushed out at once, and they told me they'd found you in the street in that awful state. They carried you inside, and while I changed your clothes, the younger one stepped out.
"Ten minutes later, he returned with someone who claimed to be a surgeon. The fellow cleaned your wounds and stitched you up proper. Once all was done, the three of them left.
"But before they went, the older gentleman left his calling card—said you should visit him once you were feelin' better. And would you believe it, lad? He left me five shillings!"
The old woman showed a beaming smile as she spoke, "Five whole shillings! Said it was for my troubles and to see that you were looked after. Of course, I would have cared for you anyway, but five shillings! My word, what a gentleman!"
Luke went into deep thought after hearing her out. Why did they go out of their way to save me?
From what Aunt Peggie mentioned, they seemed to have gone over and beyond for a complete stranger… This is strange.
Is this them just being altruistic? Or do they want something for me?
Hints of suspicion filled his heart. However, he was still immensely grateful to them for what they did. If not for them, he probably would have died. Again.
But why did they do it? What's their motive?
"Oh, right!" The old woman reached out toward the small bedside table. "Here's that gentleman's calling card."
Luke glanced at the calling card. It was cream colored with elegant but practical lettering printed on it.
Mr. Edmund Mercer
Textile Merchant & Proprietor of Mercer & Sons Fabrics
12 Barrow Street, Newport
Fine cloth for Gentlemen and Ladies of Distinction.
"Edmund Mercer…" Luke muttered under his breath.
He then looked at the old woman and asked, "Aunt Peggie, how long was I out for?"
"It was just last night, child!" The old woman replied. "You've been asleep the whole day! I wouldn't have woken you if you hadn't been trembling under the blanket. I got real scared there for a moment!"
"One entire day?!" Luke was taken aback. But then he realized something else and couldn't help but smile a little.
She must really care for me, he thought.
He looked at the kind old woman and sincerely said, "Thank you for looking after me, Aunt Peggy."
"Oh, don't say such things, dear boy." The old woman gently held onto Luke's hand. "When your parents were alive, they helped me and my family in our darkest times. This is the least I can do for you."
The light in Luke's eyes dimmed and his lips quivered slightly. Orphan again…
"Aunt Peggy," he called out softly. "I, uh… I would like to spend some time alone. Is that okay?"
"'Course, 'course." The old woman got to her feet. "If you need anythin', you know where to find me." With that said, she turned around and walked towards the door.
Suddenly, she stopped and reminded him. "Oh, that's right. I'm just next door, in case you don't remember."
Finally, she left the youth's bedroom, shutting the door behind her. Luke could hear the floorboard creak under her footsteps as she slowly descended the stairs before finally leaving the house.
As soon as he heard the door on the first floor close, Luke immediately sat up on the bed and removed the blanket covering him. He looked at his legs and couldn't help but gulp.
Then, his gaze shifted to his dimly lit bedroom and he started observing it closely.
A simple wooden bed frame pushed against the wall to conserve space, a thin mattress, one lumpy pillow, and a thin blanket. The living conditions are… fucking bad!
Luke's gaze shifted to his bedside table and he wondered, a small wooden table, a burning candle in a brass holder, and an empty glass of water.
His gaze shifted yet again.
A small wooden desk shoved underneath the only window in this room. The previous owner of this body studied there under the natural light during the day…
A few ink-stained papers and quills… There's a wooden inkpot. Candelsticks melted down to its base… there's hardened pools of wax all over the table. One heavily battered wooden chair.
Luke turned his head to the other side of the room.
A small wooden cupboard… Right, that's where I… no, I mean the previous owner, kept his clothes and books. A small satchel hangs over the cupboard door. Yes, that's what I take to the university… Not I… Fuck…
His heartbeat turned faster and his breathing turned ragged. He shifted his attention back to his legs again.
Everything that he observed pointed towards one thing - this was not a dream!
It was too real, too life-like to be a dream. Luke couldn't believe it that he was about to mutter the word that he only thought was possible in fiction.
"Transmigration…"
He loudly gulped and thought to himself, If this is true and I really have transmigrated into another world… into this body. Then, I can really…
He positioned him on the side of the bed. His feet finally touched the ground. He took deep breaths and applied strength to his legs.
When he realized that he could really stand on his feet, his eyes couldn't help but tear up.
"Ha… haha!" He cried tears of joy as he started to walk around his tiny bedroom, one step at a time. "It's true! It really is true!"
He wiped the tears from his eyes, but more tears formed. Oh, how much he wished he could walk again like his peers. For all his life, his only wish was to be able to walk.
Luke's previous life came to an end, but his wish came true regardless.
"A miracle!" He exclaimed emotionally.
If I've transmigrated into a different body, I wonder how I look?
His gaze was drawn to his study table's drawer. That's where he, or rather Abel, kept a small hand mirror. Luke walked towards the table and pulled the drawer open.
He found a small journal, an unsealed and bloodied envelope—which he assumed the old man from last night or Aunt Peggie must have placed—and finally a hand mirror.
With trembling hands, he reached out for the mirror.
I bet I look handsome, he encouraged himself.
He brought the mirror to his face level. He was really excited to see how he looked. But when his gaze finally did land on his reflection in the mirror, his eyes widened in horror.
His heart sank and he collapsed to the floor. "No, no, no, it can't be! It can't be! I refuse to believe it!"
The feeling of existential crisis washed over him and caused his mind to turn extremely chaotic.
Because when he looked into the mirror, he didn't see Abel's reflection like he had expected.
Instead, all he saw was Luke!