January 23rd
[2209 AD - Rural Berlin - Germany- ]
In a luxurious apartment
Azaz!!
Azaz!!
Crash!!
Marilyn bent down, his face pale, picking up the primitive alarm clock from the floor and placing it on the small table.
Its design was simple: a small brass bell connected to three thin spidery cords and suspended from the ceiling before falling down. He woke up like every other time this week to the sound of the alarm clock falling, due to the vibration. This was his latest habit, in addition to staring constantly at the walls of the doorless room.
"That bastard..." His inner voice did not hesitate to curse the one who had caused his miserable imprisonment.
Normally, Marilyn would have finished making his bed and preparing his expensive black coffee,
but he was no longer Marilyn. He "remembered." While lost in his thoughts, another sound interrupted him, but this time it was the sound of another train car passing by, connected to the tracks in Al-Mana. It was nine in the morning. In fact, the sound of this train had been waking him up all week.
He turned left, and his eyes fell on a shelf holding a collection of limited edition books
and small ivory figurines placed delicately inside glass cubes hidden behind another shelf.
Underneath it were several stacks of newspapers neatly stacked and secured.
It seemed that the owner of the room was keen on collecting these items.
Among those newspapers stood out a book painted with a mixture of woolly white, light orange, and purple in the middle of its cover,
illuminating a distinctive seal and forming a unique combination of color overlaps, which in turn interacted easily with the walls of this room, highlighting it.
After a few minutes of superficial distraction, Marilyn straightened up and walked over to pick it up with some surprise. . He had many questions about the contents of the book that the previous owner of the room and body had tried so hard to show him. For the past six days, he had been waking up for what seemed like a few minutes and then repeatedly fainting. He was unable to move his limbs or accurately calculate time.
This continued until yesterday, when he was able to open his eyes.
The red wooden floor made a slight rustling sound when his feet touched it. As a result, he stopped and looked down. It was clear that it needed maintenance, and from the appearance of the place and its contents, it did not seem that the owner was unable to pay for its restoration. Instead, he seemed keen to keep it as it was .
Come to think of it, who would put a "giant piano" in the corner of their room and choose a classic lamp for themselves instead of a modern and practical one? Even his choice of alarm clock seemed strange. If Zurga used the latter only to determine the time period of this "world," he would think he had returned to the Middle Ages. He seemed to be a collector of strange and ancient things, flexible and multi-talented,
"extremely versatile," he said to himself, cutting off his train of thought. Then he sighed and looked away from the floor, contemplating the towering height that separated him from reaching his goal.
He continued to lick his lips "eagerly" involuntarily, then gently placed his palm on his neck and examined it carefully. As a result, his frown deepened. His purpose was not to check for an old injury or remove something; he wanted to verify the presence of his curse, and it seemed brighter this time.
That cursed number was carved on his neck as it always had been, but instead, it now seemed to blend harmoniously with his body, as if it had been created to adorn his neck, with its reddish-black color. He rose five feet off the ground, ready to receive the book. After moving it for a few moments, it fell. Before it touched the ground, he had already caught it, and without delay, he opened the first page, then the second, and then the third. He felt a slight tingling near his fingernails, which appeared to be traces of recent scratches. He fixed his gaze on the three pages, and on each one, six words were engraved in a rare blood-red color, and their intoxicating scent lingered on those pages.
As soon as his eyes fell on them, a cold sweat ran down his spine.
"This... This..." he muttered to himself, barely able to catch his breath. With every word he saw, his eyes widened and the blood froze in his veins. It wasn't the words themselves that terrified him, nor the blood left behind by them. What made the hair on his head stand on end was...
He closed his eyes for a long time, trying to confirm something.
He was not mistaken, and there was no room for doubt. The writings he saw that day shared the same language as the words drawn on the first pages.
and during his brief shock, what appeared to be "Marilyn's memoirs" fell onto the red floor. Before his eyes closed completely, he inhaled as his smile widened, and he continued to utter chuckles, muttering to himself madly, "The forgotten era... the forgotten era! No... The deleted era! It was all real. His heart continued to pound and his breathing quickened. "It wasn't the whisperings of the devil or the ravings of a charlatan... All of this was real! It was real..." His eyes exploded with excitement, and he was overcome with a feeling of ecstasy, the ecstasy of discovery, the ecstasy of knowing the truth. And while he was immersed in his own world, he fainted... again...
----
Move...
Zurga... Zurga... Wake up, you bastard...
Move...
Zurga...
Shake him...
Zurga slowly opened his eyes to see a familiar face, but without realizing it, he politely pushed him away.
The only problem was that he used the legs of a 25-year-old young man to gently push the nobleman in front of him.
The modern baron cast a contemptuous glance full of hatred at this colleague as he regained his balance.
He wanted to yell at him, but his "companion" was leaning on the fence of the Viscount Marcel's house, and apart from the fact that this fence belonged to the Marcel family, it was truly towering. It stretched as far as the eye could see, surrounding the garden opposite the bourgeois mansion, extending more than six feet above the ground and less than a foot below it. (The Marcell family had influence and investments in industry and commerce and owned the means of production, so I used the term "bourgeois" here.) The two young men continued to exchange glances. Zurga sighed as he examined the blond baron in front of him from head to toe. He wore a bright yellow coat with a pair of leather shoes. His gaze did not leave the latter at all, and he asked with a strange curve of his mouth, "What's with the looks, you bastard?"
Zurga did not respond to this usual form of address and continued to stare into space. He turned toward the towering wall in front of him, touching the giant gate and leaning his weight on it. As he did so, he bent his back slightly and tilted his head to meet the other man's gaze with the corner of his eye, then shrugged his shoulders and said
"Ah, that... I was checking the condition of your clothes, wondering if there had been any changes to them after the recent update to your status, Al Morial, but it seems that... unfortunately, none of that has happened. In any case, I apologize for pushing you inappropriately, Baron..." As expected, the baron's gaze intensified. Zorga continued to offer sincere advice.
"Perhaps I should call you 'the fallen count'? Huh, what do you think of that name? It's nice, isn't it? The phrase will retain the title of count in this context, at least..." As he finished, a slight surprise appeared on his face. Normally, his newly acquired gambling companion would have pounced on him to eat him alive, but instead, the new baron, "Morial Giovanni," the middle son of "Raoul Giovanni," the owner of the third and fourth largest vineyards in terms of area, and the second and first until last week, smiled. He smiled calmly and took a long breath, looking at the towering black gate and then at the man in front of him. Then he opened his mouth.
"All right, all right. You're not just a bastard... You're a bastard who lost his girl to someone else... She didn't let you see her today, huh?"
Zurga was a little surprised. He scratched his temple, then showed a sudden realization and a quick glance before the latter continued to direct undeserved insults at him and said,
"About that, I was on my way in, but I suddenly fainted and woke up when you arrived." "Morial replied sarcastically, with a hint of contempt. As if I would believe the nonsense you just made up. Your appearance suggests that you have been sleeping here for a long time already. Since you chose to protest in this way, why do you want to deny it as soon as I arrive?" Zurga interrupted him, saying, "Baron, no... Fallen Count, how many times have I told you not to stick your nose into my private affairs? Especially with that married woman... Huh? Isn't it shameful that trash cans like you continue to spread these kinds of rumors about her?" As he spoke, Muriel's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, and he quickly uttered, "Rumors? Aren't you the one who describes his red nights with her and adds to his description with metaphors every time he gets drunk? Zurga choked on this sudden statement and wanted to defend himself, but the new baron continued, "In addition to this, I am more inclined to believe you after thinking about it. I mean... You're too impatient to choose to strike. If she refused to let you in, you would have headed to the nearest brothel." At this, Zurga raised his head and spoke in a low, calm voice "You couldn't have done that," he continued quickly as his features slowly changed. He clapped his hands and said, "Okay, I have to meet someone at this point, and don't worry about the drinks. I'll take care of the bill for you from now on." Morial closed his eyes and then opened them. Zurga didn't stop talking. "I know it has nothing to do with you. You weren't responsible for smuggling thousands of barrels of high-quality wine to our enemies in the north... Don't blame yourself. It's your father who lacks principles and values and needs the preaching that the ecclesiastical court has sentenced him to... It's unfair that you're obliged to attend, but don't worry about that either. I'll accompany you when I have time...
That is, if they let me in and ignore the rumors about me... I want to meet your cousin too..." After that, a silence fell. Morial took a breath and spoke in a conciliatory tone. "Don't make it sound like we lost all our assets. It's just a few pieces of land that were transferred." At this point, a pained expression appeared on his face, and he looked at Zurga, who smiled from ear to ear and interrupted
"Then make sure you take care of our next drink tab. You know your friend's business hasn't been going well lately." A hint of disappointment flashed across his face as he said this.
He continued without giving the fallen count a chance to object. "Well, I need to meet that important person inside, as you know."
The new baron fell silent, picking up on his companion's signal and understanding that the conversation was over, while Zurga winked at him. In fact, he was surprised at how unusually long the conversation had lasted. He said to himself as he watched Zurga's shadow disappear
"Your work hasn't gone well since I've known you," he said to himself. He was somewhat impressed by the private investigator's "bankrupt" act. He was not sure of the nature of his relationship with the beautiful woman inside, but he was sure of something else instead: that it was impossible for Zurga to be so drunk that he would be unable to keep his secrets. If that were true, the crimes would have been exposed.
Turning his back on Muriel, Zurga went inside and continued to take one turn after another until he arrived in front of three paintings that radiated a bright light that continuously attracted the viewer's gaze and drew him in, captivating his senses and his being... They seemed closer to portals to other worlds than to art exhibits, full of prosperity... Realizing his mistake, Zurga's heart skipped a beat, gathering what remained of his consciousness. Before today, Zurga did not know the source of the light that emanated from these masterpieces, and he wondered for a while whether they had used oil paints or high-quality, specially manufactured colors, but with his experience today, he confidently guessed that they had obtained the blessings of one of the sun's servants, especially with their side effects. He continued to stare at them, contemplating them and examining their details. Each of these paintings would have been a national treasure anywhere else, but they were placed to adorn the corridors of this direct descendant of the Marcell family. Each one referred to one of the three celestial bodies that were revered and worshipped with devotion: the star, the sun, and the moon. - On either side were two paintings the size of chess pieces. On the right was the silhouette of a beautiful woman, although her features seemed less exposed to light than the darkness of all those who had fallen.
On the left was the perfect image of a young man with skin as white as snow. His red lips were like open cherries, and his eternal hair hung down to his waist. It was impossible to distinguish his gender just by looking at the details of his body. Zurga lowered his eyes slightly, lost in admiration, and lifted the middle panel to contemplate it. It bore the image of a "person" with three heads, each of which appeared to be an independent sun. Each of these heads was centered on a radiant copper ball. He lifted the painting and continued to shake it, causing something to fall. He bent down and picked up the brass balls, which looked like black grapes after being separated from the suns, and which had previously merged with the painting to complete it. "Impressive," he said quietly. Taking a deep breath, he turned around again.
After entering the hallway, he barely had a chance to catch his breath properly. He had to show his elegant companion a steady face, so much so that he forgot his question about why he was there. He wanted to scream the moment he returned to his "consciousness," but he restrained himself and led the conversation as he wanted with the fallen count. After taking the key, he continued walking forward and took a few turns before lowering himself to the ground and placing his left ear on it. He looked as if he was trying to sense a sound, and as he did so, he took out a small cube that blended in with the floor. He then placed the brass balls in a specific order, and the floor, which was shaped like a chessboard, quickly reacted and dropped him into another room, where he performed an acrobatic descent. He put his feet on the ground, dusted off his jacket, and greeted the eyes that were looking at him with a reserved smile. He looked at the table, walked towards it, pulled out a chair, and sat down opposite a girl in her mid-twenties. She watched Zurga as he sighed. She did not seem particularly attractive, nor did she stand out among the girls of her generation, but she was always surrounded by a deadly aura. Her features were simple, with large eyes and barely visible eyeliner adorning her lashes. She had purple hair mixed with black strands and wore a purple coat and a hat with a long brim that resembled a wooden boat. She was none other than Sofia, the fifth daughter of Viscon. She wore a purple coat and a hat with a long brim that resembled a wooden boat. She was none other than Sophia, the fifth daughter of Viscount Bolden Aguiro and wife of Viscount Marcel.
Without waiting for him to say anything, she began to speak.
"That was quick..."
He replied indignantly, "You shouldn't have put it in that sacred painting. If one of the servants saw me..." He pointed to an empty cup and continued, "...worse still, if a nobleman saw me, he would think I was desecrating sacred objects..." She continued to stare at him, then replied without batting an eyelid, "That's exactly why I put it there. Besides, I cleared the hallway for you. Most of the servants are preparing the weekly feast for the viscount." As she spoke, Zurga realized why the fallen count had come to this place at this time. and he was somewhat happy that his companion had arrived early, even though he had interrupted his stellar fall... Otherwise, he would have been chewing gum in the filthy mouths of the nobles for weeks... The sharp girl continued, "As for desecrating sacred things, you live up to your title, 'atheist.' I followed you as you tampered with those paintings that the saints of the churches and the leaders of the families cannot remain steadfast before or even look at directly out of reverence for them," (Note = she does not mean that he is stronger than them or more steadfast... It is not weakness on their part, but devotion to the sacred). Zurga objected, scratching the back of his head.
"In that regard, I am certainly not an atheist. I am simply averse to the worship of former humans." As she poured him a cup of coffee, her hands trembled as she sharply replied, "Lower your voice. You treat these buried legends as if they were bedtime stories." Zurga replied indifferently, "Hmph... This is nothing. I only know these details from my shared consciousness with the 'true atheist'. Besides, you must have already taken precautions. I doubt anyone could penetrate your Lucid." The girl replied curtly as she filled his cup.
"Your words strongly interfere with the beliefs of the previous owner of this body. Six months haven't passed yet, so I need to be careful at this stage." He raised his head with a bow and changed the subject as Sofia picked up a small spoon, ready to add sugar cubes to his cup. "Suddenly," he pulled his cup away, "I drink it without sugar..." Sophia moved slightly, speaking.
"You're giving up the habit of drinking tea and then the habit of adding sugar to coffee?"
"It helps me cope," he replied as he continued,
"Actually, I find the place so impressive that I even thought of choosing one of the 'suspended' objects to worship with devotion, except that it conflicts with the hobbies of the owner of this body... Thinking about my previous life, or 'other' life to be precise... That priest would undoubtedly have loved this game of worship. I suppose he's in one of the churches now..." She nodded when she finished preparing his cup and "carefully" placed it in front of him, then spoke in a lost tone, asking
"Do you remember now?"
He nodded to her as he added
" But not much, and the number carved on his neck hasn't disappeared yet... I remember you telling me before that it's connected to his destiny."
Sophia replied in a tone that carried a hint of doubt and uncertainty.
"I only helped you transfer your memories to his body. As for his destiny, that will need to be confirmed. "Didn't you contact Evelyn about that? I think he left a way to do it..." As soon as she mentioned the name, she noticed a slight frown on his face, despite his attempt to remain composed.
After a short silence, he replied
"I do have a way." He took a pack of cigarettes out of the inside pocket of his brown jacket and shook it.
"In fact, she recently helped me hide a body and divert suspicion away from me..." He continued without stuttering when he saw signs of confusion on the beautiful woman's face. " "It's a remnant of this body's previous host—Zurga, right? I think he's been obsessed with this kind of thing lately... During the time we shared consciousness, he killed quite a few people, so..." He lowered his head with a hint of sadness. "I locked him in a room without doors." Without needing to say another word, Sophia asked, "Lucid encryption?" He nodded in agreement with her answer and continued his questioning. "What about him now? Has his consciousness 'faded away'?" He replied with a slight hesitation, "That should be the case, but he will retain some of his characteristics and habits for a while..." Sofia responded to what he said with a heavy nod, because she had gone through the same experience before her consciousness had largely stabilized. He turned the cigarette pack over and placed it between his index and middle fingers, then scratched the sticker that sealed it and took out what was rattling inside. It was a card made of steel, yet it could be easily folded. The sacred fire had engraved Roman letters inside it: "Remember." He placed it between his fingers and let the cigarette pack fall, then interrupted the silence of the room and said in a relaxed tone "However, my partner, Zurga, from the authorities investigating the latest case, told me that he would need to come back later if my possession of the 'Rememberer' card, which originally belonged to Evelyn, was not confirmed." He put his hands on his forehead and lowered his gaze to look at the card between his fingers. Then he continued in a subdued voice, "So... my time is limited..."
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