Chapter 1: Crimson

Chapter 1: Crimson

Pain!

So painful!

My head hurts so much!

The bizarre, dreamlike world filled with whispers shattered rapidly. Zhou Mingrui, deep in sleep, felt an intense, throbbing pain in his head, as if someone had struck him hard with a club—no, it felt more like a sharp object had been driven into his temple and was being twisted!

*Hiss...* In his dazed state, Zhou Mingrui wanted to turn over, cover his head, and sit up, but he couldn't move his limbs at all; his body seemed to have lost all control.

It seems I haven't truly woken up yet; I'm still in a dream... Maybe later I'll experience that feeling of thinking I've woken up when I'm actually still asleep... Not unfamiliar with such experiences, Zhou Mingrui struggled to focus his will to completely shake off the shackles of darkness and hallucination.

However, in that half-awake, half-asleep state, his will was always as elusive as smoke, difficult to control or gather. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't help his thoughts from wandering and distractions from surfacing.

Why would I suddenly have a headache in the middle of the night for no reason?

And it hurts so badly!

Could it be a cerebral hemorrhage or something?

Damn it, I’m not going to die young just like this, am I?

Wake up! Wake up!

Huh, it doesn't seem as painful as before? But it still feels like there’s a dull knife slowly cutting through my brain...

Looks like I can't keep sleeping. How am I supposed to go to work tomorrow?

Why am I even thinking about work? If I have a real headache, of course I should take a sick day! No need to worry about the manager’s nagging!

Thinking about it, that doesn't seem so bad, hehe, stealing half a day of leisure from a busy life!

Wave after wave of throbbing pain allowed Zhou Mingrui to accumulate a bit of illusory strength. Finally, he gathered his resolve, pushed his waist and back, and opened his eyes, completely breaking free from the half-awake state.

His vision was blurry at first, then veiled in a faint crimson. As far as his eyes could see, Zhou Mingrui saw a wooden desk in front of him. In the center lay an open notebook with rough, yellowed paper. At the top, a sentence was written in strange alphabetic characters, the ink deep black and seemingly dripping.

On the left side of the notebook, near the edge of the desk, was a neat stack of books, about seven or eight of them. On the wall to their right, gray-white pipes were embedded, connected to a wall lamp.

This lamp had a distinct classical Western style, about the size of half an adult's head. The inner layer was transparent glass, while the outside was enclosed in a grid of black metal.

Slightly below the extinguished wall lamp, a black ink bottle was bathed in a pale red glow, its embossed surface forming a vague angel pattern.

In front of the ink bottle, to the right of the notebook, a dark fountain pen with a rounded belly rested quietly, its nib shimmering with a faint light, its cap placed next to a brass-colored revolver.

A pistol? A revolver? Zhou Mingrui was completely stunned. Everything before his eyes was so unfamiliar; it bore no resemblance to his own room!

While stunned and bewildered, he noticed that the desk, the notebook, the ink bottle, and the revolver were all covered in a crimson "veil"—the radiance shining in from the window.

Subconsciously, he raised his head, his gaze shifting upward bit by bit

In mid-air, against a black "velvet curtain," a crimson full moon hung high, shining serenely.

This... Zhou Mingrui felt an inexplicable panic and stood up abruptly. But before his legs were fully straightened, his head throbbed again, causing him to lose his strength momentarily. His center of gravity shifted, and he fell back, his buttocks slamming hard against the hardwood chair.

*Thud!*

The pain didn't stop him. Zhou Mingrui pressed his hands against the desk and stood up again, turning around in a panic to survey his surroundings.

It was a small room with a brown door on both the left and right sides. Against the opposite wall stood a wooden bunk bed.

Between it and the left door was a cabinet with two doors on top and five drawers below.

At the edge of the cabinet, at about the height of a person, more gray-white pipes were embedded in the wall, but they connected to a strange mechanical device, with gears and bearings exposed in a few places.

In the corner near the desk on the right, there was a pile of items resembling a coal stove, along with a soup pot, an iron pot, and other kitchen utensils.

Past the right door was a full-length mirror with two cracks, its wooden base featuring simple and plain patterns.

With a sweep of his gaze, Zhou Mingrui vaguely saw himself in the mirror, his current self

Black hair, brown eyes, linen shirt, thin build, ordinary features, deep contours...

This... Zhou Mingrui gasped, a surge of helpless and chaotic guesses flooding his heart.

The revolver, the classical European-style decor, and that crimson moon so different from Earth's—everything pointed to one thing!

I, I didn't transmigrate, did I? Zhou Mingrui’s mouth opened bit by bit.

He had grown up reading web novels and often fantasized about this, but when it actually happened, he found it hard to accept.

This must be what they call "Lord Ye’s love of dragons," he thought, self-deprecatingly, trying to find humor in his misery after a few dozen seconds.

If not for the lingering pain in his head, which kept his thoughts tense and clear, he would surely have suspected he was dreaming.

Calm, calm, calm... After taking a few deep breaths, Zhou Mingrui tried his best not to panic.

Just then, as his mind and body reconciled, fragments of memory suddenly jumped out, slowly presenting themselves in his mind!

Klein Moretti, a resident of Tingen City, Awwa County, in the Kingdom of Loen on the Northern Continent, a recent graduate of the History Department at Khoy University...

His father was a sergeant in the Royal Army who died in a colonial conflict in the Southern Continent. The pension he left behind gave Klein the chance to attend a private grammar school, laying the foundation for his admission to the university...

His mother was a believer in the Goddess of Night and passed away the year Klein passed the entrance exam for Khoy University...

He had an older brother and a younger sister, and they lived together in a two-bedroom apartment...

The family was not wealthy, perhaps even struggling, currently relying entirely on his brother, who worked as a clerk at an import-export company, to make ends meet...

As a history graduate, Klein had mastered Loen, the language of the Northern Continent, as well as Ancient Feysac, the source of the Northern languages, and Hermes, a language often appearing in ancient tombs related to rituals and prayers...

Hermes? Zhou Mingrui’s heart stirred. He reached out to press his throbbing temple and cast his gaze toward the open notebook on the desk. He felt the line of text on the yellowed paper change from strange to unfamiliar, from unfamiliar to familiar, and from familiar to readable.

This was a sentence written in Hermes!

The deep black, dripping ink said

"Everyone will die, including me."

*Hiss!* Zhou Mingrui felt an inexplicable terror. His body instinctively recoiled, trying to put distance between himself and the notebook, between himself and that line of text.

He was very weak and nearly fell. He hurriedly reached out to press the edge of the desk, feeling the surrounding air become restless. Faint, dense whispers echoed in his ears, reminiscent of the horror stories his elders told him when he was a child.

He shook his head; it was all just a hallucination. Zhou Mingrui steadied himself, looked away from the notebook, and gasped for air.

At this moment, his gaze fell on the brass-shimmering revolver, and a question suddenly popped into his mind.

"With Klein’s family background, where would he get the money or the connections to buy a pistol?" Zhou Mingrui couldn't help but frown.

While deep in thought, he suddenly noticed half a red handprint on the edge of the desk, its color deeper than the moonlight and thicker than the "veil."

It was a bloody handprint!

"A bloody handprint?" Zhou Mingrui subconsciously turned over his right hand, which had been pressing against the desk edge, and looked down to see his palm and fingers covered in blood.

At the same time, the throbbing pain in his head continued, slightly diminished but persistent.

"Did I crack my head open?" Zhou Mingrui guessed as he turned around and walked toward the cracked full-length mirror.

After a few steps, a figure of medium height, with black hair, brown eyes, and a scholarly air, was clearly reflected in his eyes.

This is me now, Klein Moretti?

Zhou Mingrui paused for a moment. Because there wasn't enough light in the middle of the night, he couldn't see clearly, so he continued forward until he was just a step away from bumping into the mirror.

By the light of the crimson moon, which looked like a veil, he tilted his head to check the condition of his temple.

The clear reflection in the mirror showed it truthfully: a gruesome wound sat on his temple, its edges scorched and the surrounding area stained with blood.