...Strange the nights of a thinking mind.
Digging his grave with all his might.
In the land of Ulmeria...
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Vinny sat up in bed, a tight, restless weight pressing against his chest. He had slept for nearly twenty-four hours straight, so yeah, hunger made sense. His hands trembled slightly as he pushed himself upright, muscles stiff from the long sleep.
Rubbing his eyes, he tried to make out the familiar shapes of his room; books were scattered everywhere, and training gear was piled in a corner with some old clothes. A faint ache ran through his neck and shoulders, reminding him of how long he'd lain still.
A strange black cord caught his eye. Isn't this the charging cable? He'd been searching for it for weeks. Of course, he had already bought a new one, which made finding this old one only more frustrating.
He went to the window and drew back the curtains, only to be blinded by sunlight. He yanked them closed immediately.
I've slept way too long again... maybe I should see a doctor, he thought, glancing at the clock on his phone; it was nearly noon.
Lately, strange dreams and hallucinations had been plaguing him. He had tried sleeping them off or keeping busy to distract himself, but nothing worked.
I'm usually not the type to believe in bad omens, but... He moved to the edge of the bed and bent down, pulling a long, rectangular object from beneath it. ...I don't believe in coincidences either.
It was the mirror he had bought a week ago, right around the time the strange symptoms began. He didn't even know why he'd bought it.
He had been wandering aimlessly to kill boredom, letting his body move on autopilot, when he found himself in front of an old furniture store. He didn't need anything, but something about the place drew him in. He ended up buying the mirror, even though he didn't need it.
Not even a good one... what a waste of money, he thought, removing the cover and placing it against the wall. Staring at it for too long made him feel foolish; how could a mirror cause hallucinations or chest tightness? All those novels I've been reading must be messing with my head. He wiped the dust from its surface and saw his own eyes, empty and exhausted. He felt tired, even though he hadn't done anything to warrant it.
He wasn't sad or disappointed in himself, just drained. Doesn't matter; two slices of pizza will fix everything.
But the moment he pulled his phone from his pocket to order, the world changed. The air thickened, oppressive with strange, unbearable forces. His body felt suspended, weightless yet unbearably heavy all at once, as if invisible hands were tugging at him. A burning sensation spread through his chest. The world and colours melted away, leaving only absolute darkness. The shift was violent, heavy, and terrifying.
He lost consciousness. Regained it. Lost it again. The cycle repeated with an intensity that made him dizzy, nauseous. He had no sense of how many times, and no time even to think.
Eventually, he felt an extreme lightness, nearly dissolving into the ocean of void around him. Desperately, he clung to the last thread of his awareness, a thin spark of panic running through his veins.
When he returned to the surface, everything seemed as it had been, or at least, that's what he thought at first.
What is this?
In front of him was a rectangular mirror, but it wasn't the same one. It was cleaner, etched with strange symbols.
He stumbled back, a mixture of shock and terror, accidentally dropping a tiny bottle from his left hand. He couldn't recognise either the bottle or his clothes. Where am I?!
He shook his head frantically, sweat running down his chin. His clothes were strange: a chestnut-colored shirt with two buttons open at the neck, tucked neatly into his trousers. He touched his face. Weird... my face is the same, my height too... but this isn't me... And this isn't my house.
His legs weakened, and he wanted to sit to examine himself, but a strange noise came from behind. "Hey! Still not done?"
A staircase along the wall led to a ceiling door; he realised he must be in a basement of some kind.
He found himself hurrying toward the door, climbed the stairs, and pushed it open, only to face a man in his late fifties with a cane and a pipe in his mouth.
"What took you so long?" the man asked, blowing smoke with an annoyed expression.
Who is this?
"I apologise... um—"
No more than five minutes had passed since the strange transformation, yet the questions piling up in Vinny's head were already unbearable.
While he tried to think of a way out of this hallucinatory state, a wave of scattered, disconnected memories struck him. Vinny, eighteen years old, same age, same name, but none of that mattered now. He held his head, feeling as though someone had hit him with a metal rod.
"Sorry... Mr Harald, I'm done now." He forced the words out, barely hiding his anxiety.
Marcain City... Gold District. I came to... check the property? No, that was just an excuse. Why did you really come? Vinny covered his face, nausea and dizziness overtaking him.
"Listen, I've had enough of you. This is the fifth time you've asked to check the property and not taken it. Either buy it, or get out of my sight!"
The words fell on deaf ears. Vinny's mind was elsewhere, trying to piece together himself and his memories, or the memories of this other {Vinny}, if that made sense.
Have I been transmigrated? Do things like this even happen?! He stood straight before old Harald, exhaling heavily, trembling slightly from fear and confusion.
"Please, let me come here agai—"
"Buy it, or leave and never come back!"
Vinny's luck was clearly not on his side. His eyes scanned the narrow corridor between rooms. Behind Harald, a room led further down the hallway, then another room leading to a door outside. This... a deserted mansion for thirty years. It belonged to a noble family before the entire family was mysteriously slaughtered. {Vinny}'s memories are hazy, but this old man is practically begging anyone to buy it.
"Tch. I should have expected that a brat at your age, even if a famous doctor, isn't capable of buying it," Harald muttered, heading toward the front door.
Doctor? The word echoed in Vinny's mind, strange yet undeniably correct.
He followed Harald outside, where the old man locked the door with a solid metal lock.
"Go now, quickly. Don't you want to catch the train to the city centre?" Harald said, watching Vinny frozen at the doorway, staring at the courtyard that hadn't lost its beauty over the years, as if it were his first time seeing grass.
"The train? Yes, the train!" Vinny shouted, running toward the gate. "Sorry, ol' Harald! I'll make sure to find a buyer for you!" He spun to say it, then resumed sprinting past the tall metal fences toward the station.