"Allow me to introduce myself properly," Luthern said, straightening his posture with dignified precision. "My name is Luthern Varn. You'll have to wait to know more than that, but for now, I'm at your service, Julian Volkov."
Julian's mind reeled. The courtyard around them felt suddenly smaller, more confined, as the weight of his situation pressed down on him. How does everyone in this world know my full name?
"I hope you'll listen," Luthern continued, his voice taking on an urgent undertone. "This place is far too dangerous for you to remain exposed. Without proper protection, I cannot guarantee you'll survive until dawn."
The old man's words carried a gravity that made Julian's skin crawl. He'd barely been in this world for hours, and already he felt like prey being hunted by predators he couldn't see or understand.
"What... what else do you know about me?" Julian asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
A faint smile crossed Luthern's weathered features. "Enough to recognise that you need guidance. The Empire's agents weren't offering assistance; they were preparing to add you to their collection."
Luthern gestured with his staff, and the air beside them rippled like heat waves, bending light until it coalesced into a shimmering distortion that hung in the air like liquid glass.
Magic. Real, undeniable magic.
"Follow me," Luthern said, stepping toward the portal. "And don't be afraid. You won't be harmed during the transition."
Julian hesitated, every rational thought screaming warnings. But what choice did he have? The alternative was wandering these streets alone, waiting for the Empire's agents to find him again.
He stepped through.
The sensation was like diving through warm honey, a brief moment of disorientation, then solid ground beneath his feet. Julian found himself in a vast underground space, the air thick with the sound of hammering metal and the red glow of forge fires. Hundreds of workers moved with purpose through what could only be described as a subterranean factory.
"This way," Luthern said, leading him across a wooden platform toward a corridor that ended in gleaming doors that opened at their approach.
An elevator. In what appeared to be a magical world, an actual elevator.
They rose through layers of rough stone that gradually gave way to polished white marble streaked with silver. Crystal sconces cast gentle light across spotless floors that reflected the ceiling like still water. The transformation was jarring, from industrial chaos to palatial elegance in mere seconds.
"Where exactly are we going?" Julian asked, his voice echoing slightly in the refined corridor.
"You'll understand soon enough," Luthern replied, his tone carrying a note of anticipation.
They ascended a grand staircase, passing through corridors that seemed to stretch into infinity. Through tall windows, Julian caught glimpses of mountains and forest, with moonlight reflecting off a massive waterfall nestled between towering peaks. The owner of this place possessed wealth beyond anything he could imagine.
They stopped before an ornate door at the end of a wide corridor. Luthern raised his hand and knocked three times.
"My lady, I have brought our awaited guest."
"You may enter," came a soft, melodious voice from within, unmistakably feminine and carrying a note of excitement.
The door opened to reveal a chamber that radiated luxury and authority in equal measure. Dark mahogany panels lined the walls from floor to ceiling, their rich grain catching the flickering light from dozens of candles. Crimson velvet drapes framed tall windows, and a Persian rug spread beneath an imposing desk that dominated the room's centre.
Behind the desk sat a woman who seemed to embody contradictions, too young to command such authority, too composed to be truly youthful. Scarlet hair fell in deliberate waves across her shoulders, and her pale skin seemed to glow in the candlelight. Her eyes were the most striking feature: narrow and feline, a vivid silver-grey that seemed to shift between violet and storm-cloud grey as they tracked his movement.
She wore a high-collared red dress that managed to be both elegant and subtly dangerous, every detail precisely calculated to create an impression of power wrapped in beauty.
"Welcome," she said, rising gracefully from her chair. "I've been waiting for you, Julian Volkov."
Heat crept up Julian's neck despite the cool evening air. He forced himself to look away, focusing on the bookshelf behind her rather than those unsettling eyes.
"Thank you," he managed, his voice rougher than intended.
Luthern bowed slightly. "Julian, allow me to introduce you to Lady Misha. I'll leave you to your discussion; I have other matters requiring attention."
He withdrew, closing the door with a soft click that seemed unnaturally loud in the sudden silence.
Lady Misha settled back into her chair, studying Julian with the focused intensity of someone evaluating a particularly interesting specimen. "While I would have preferred your arrival under better circumstances, having you here safely is what matters."
She gestured to a chair across from her desk. "Please, sit. You must have questions."
Julian remained standing, his nerves too frayed for casual conversation. "Ah, um...I have a lot of questions. Starting with how everyone seems to know exactly who I am."
"Direct. I appreciate that." Her smile was sharp, approving. "The answer is simpler than you might think. We're aware of your situation, from your otherworldly origin to the various parties now interested in your capture."
Capture. The word sent ice through his veins.
"But you needn't worry," she continued smoothly. "Cerberus exists to protect people like you."
"Cerberus?" The name felt ominous on his tongue.
"An organisation dedicated to safeguarding 'Strays', individuals displaced between dimensions. You're quite valuable, after all." She leaned forward slightly, her eyes never leaving his face. "More valuable than you realise."
Julian finally sank into the offered chair, his legs suddenly unsteady. "So I'm not the only one?"
"Certainly not. You'll meet others soon, assuming you choose to accept our offer."
"What offer?"
Lady Misha's smile widened, revealing teeth that were perhaps a shade too sharp. "Protection, obviously. But such protection requires... reciprocation. In exchange for keeping you safe from the Empire's research facilities, we'll need you to assist with certain tasks."
"What kind of tasks?"
"Nothing beyond your capabilities, simple assignments, often conducted alongside other Strays. Consider it a form of community service." She rose and moved to the window, gazing out at the moonlit landscape. "The alternative, I'm afraid, is considerably less pleasant."
Julian's mouth went dry. "You're saying I don't really have a choice."
"You always have choices," she replied, turning back to face him. "The question is whether you prefer those choices to include continued existence."
The threat was delivered with such casual elegance that it took a moment for its full implications to sink in. This wasn't an offer; it was conscription wrapped in velvet.
"Of course," Lady Misha added with apparent sympathy, "I understand you need time to process everything. You're welcome to remain here tonight while you consider your options. My staff will see to your comfort."
As if summoned by her words, the door opened to admit two servants in formal black and white attire.
"They'll escort you to your quarters," she said with a gentle smile that didn't reach her eyes. "You'll find appropriate clothing waiting for you. Rest well, tomorrow, we begin your orientation."
Julian rose mechanically, his mind struggling to process the elegant trap that had just closed around him. He'd escaped the Empire's custody only to find himself in a different kind of prison, one lined with silk and furnished with threats disguised as opportunities.
"Sweet dreams," Lady Misha called softly as the servants led him away.
The door closed behind them with a sound like a coffin lid settling into place.
The servants led Julian through corridors that seemed designed to overwhelm, soaring ceilings painted with mythological scenes, walls lined with artwork that would have belonged in the world's greatest museums, floors so polished they reflected his confused expression back at him.
They stopped before a door carved with intricate patterns that seemed to shift when viewed peripherally. One of the servants opened it with a small bow.
"Your quarters, sir. Please ring if you require anything during the night."
The room beyond was spacious and appointed with furniture that probably cost more than most people earned in a lifetime. A massive four-poster bed dominated one wall, draped in midnight-blue silk. A writing desk sat beneath tall windows, and a wardrobe that could have housed a small family stood against the far wall.
Julian stepped inside, and the door closed behind him with barely a whisper.
He was alone.
The magnitude of his situation crashed over him like a cold wave. Hours ago, he'd been a bored university student counting coins for a vending machine. Now he was trapped in some organisation that collected people like him for mysterious 'tasks' while threatening death as the alternative to compliance.
He moved to the window and looked out over the moonlit landscape. Somewhere out there, the Empire's agents were probably still searching for him. Behind him lay Cerberus, with its velvet threats and beautiful executioners.
Some choice.
He noticed clothes laid out on the bed, fine garments in dark fabrics that would have looked at home in a period drama. Everything fit perfectly, as if they'd taken his measurements while he slept. The thought was deeply unsettling.
Julian sank into the chair by the writing desk, his head in his hands. The guide's words echoed in his memory: "Whatever comes next, it's your choice."
But was it really? Every path seemed to lead to the same destination, becoming someone else's asset in an unknown conflict.
He looked up at his reflection in the darkened window, barely recognising the frightened young man staring back at him. This wasn't how isekai travel was supposed to work. Where were the magical academies, the grateful kingdoms, the heroic destinies?
Instead, he'd found a world where being special made you a target, where salvation came with chains, and where the only real choice was whose prisoner you wanted to be.
The bed looked inviting, but Julian doubted sleep would come easily. Tomorrow would bring 'orientation', whatever that meant in a place where protection was indistinguishable from captivity.
He closed his eyes and tried to remember what hope felt like. It seemed very far away.
Outside his window, the moon continued its silent journey across an alien sky, indifferent to the small human drama playing out in the room below. In the distance, something that might have been an owl called out, a lonely sound that perfectly captured Julian's growing understanding of his situation.
He was safe, protected, and more trapped than he'd ever been in his life.
The velvet cage had closed around him completely.
— • — Present — • —
"Now we can talk civilly," Alan said, slamming his left hand on the wooden table for emphasis. Civil, if you ignore the knife I'm holding under this table, he thought. The alley was too exposed; moving inside was better, especially since it was empty at this time of the morning.
Alan's priority was clear. He flashed a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "First, I need two things. Teach me that language trick, and if you have one, I'd like a map." The 'friendly' expression felt like a grimace on his face, and he ignored Elrik's frantic, wide-eyed look from beside him.
Julian recoiled slightly. "I will! I will! Just stop doing that with your face." He turned away, genuinely unnerved. Alan's attempt at a smile looked more like a pained seizure.
Good enough. He said yes, Alan thought, his excitement genuine this time. "So, how does it work?"
Julian's fingers drummed a tense rhythm on the table. He was in a hurry for them to leave. "It's not a trick you can learn," he said, the words clipped. "It's a 'Unique Skill.' As the name implies... It's unique. To me." He watched Alan's eager expression crumble into profound disappointment.
Alan let his head thud onto the table. Fantastic. So I'm stuck playing charades for the foreseeable future.
"Hey, hey," Elrik interjected, gently nudging Julian's arm and completely ignoring the tension. "If it's not magic, then can you actually use magic? Can you teach me? Pleeeeease?"
Julian shot him a venomous look, gingerly touching the back of his head where the plate had connected. "Shouldn't you be apologising for nearly cracking my skull open first?"
"Oh! Right, sorry about that," Elrik said, the apology rushed and utterly insincere. "So, about the magic...?"
Julian sighed, a sound of pure exhaustion. This is a waste of time. I need them gone.
"Whatever," Alan muttered, raising his head from the table. He removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. The gesture made his gaze seem sharper, more intent. "Let's have a fruitful conversation, then. I'm Mark. And you are?" He kept his voice light, but the sly smile was back.
"Julian," he replied tersely. "And your... companion?"
"How would I know?" Alan said with a dismissive shrug.
Elrik, seizing the opportunity for a proper introduction, jumped in. "I'm Elrik! Nice to meet you, Julian!"
"Right. Elrik," Julian repeated, his impatience palpable. He leaned forward, his grey-blue eyes locking onto Alan's. "Look, I'll answer a few questions, but that's it, then you two need to go. I don't want to see you around here again. Understood?"
Alan held his gaze, unblinking. "We'll see. First question: where exactly is 'here'?"
"We're in the town of Zarethun, located in the western part of the Eastern Empire," Julian said, speaking quickly as if he were tired of repeating this information. "The empire extends the farthest east, with nothing beyond us but the ocean. I don't have a map, but that's the situation."
"Have you met anyone else from Earth?" Alan asked the question he'd been burning to ask, finally unleashed. "Are there more of us?"
Julian's jaw tightened. "No. And if I had, I wouldn't know. We don't exactly wear nametags." His tone was final, closing the door on that line of questioning. "Is that all?"
"Not even close," Alan said, leaning in. "You mentioned 'Unique Skills.' What are they? And don't say they're 'unique.' Give me the details. That's the price for us leaving you alone."