"COWARD TERRY!"
"TRASH TERRY!"
"DISGRACE! DISGRACE! DISGRACE!"
Terry was enjoying his sweet sleep but loud crowd chanting noise was irritating him.
"Shut up, Boris! Turn the volume down!" His Russian roommate Boris loved Gladiator so much that he watched it almost every day.
Terry tried to cover his ears with his pillow as he reached for it, but all he found was a hard stone floor.
What the hell? Did I fall off my bed?
"COME ON OUT, YOU DISGRACE OF OUR HOUSE!"
Suddenly, he heard a loud, arrogant taunt. It didn't sound like something out of TV or Movie. Too taunting, too real.
WTF!
When did Maximus start sounding like a snotty brat?
What the fuck is going on?
What kind of movie is Boris watching?
"TERRY! COME OUT, YOU COWARD!"
HOLY WTF!
Is someone calling my name?
And where the fuck is my pillow?
He rubbed his eyes and slowly opened them, only to find he was on the floor, but not the kind he knew. This one looked like hard granite.
"Bloody hell! Where the fuck am I?" He sat up, only to find his arms looked weak and unfamiliar.
"Who? What? Who is this?" He almost screamed looking at his arms. "Where are my muscular guns?!"
He worked hard in the gym to get his physique, only to find he had none now. In fact, he wasn't even in his own body.
"WHAT NIGHTMARE IN THIS? WHO IS THIS? WHO DID I JUST BECOME?!"
He didn't need a long explanation to figure it out. He knew all about Isekai, transmigration, and those kinds of tropes.
Thanks to that awareness, he didn't go into shock. Still, the fact remained, he had woken up in a weak-ass body.
He noticed he was wearing some rather fancy embroidered silk... and other shit. Dozens of rings on his fingers.
CLANK!
"Suddenly, the heavy wooden door creaked open. A boy walked in, head lowered.
He avoided looking at Terry.
"My Young Lord, everyone is waiting for you in the arena."
Terry had no idea what he was talking about.
"Who are you?"
The boy froze, eyes wide with fear.
"My Young Lord, I know you ordered me to stay away, but I had to come for your sake."
Terry frowned, more confused than before.
"I'm your attendant, Young Lord," the boy stammered and was in little shock that Terry is not able to recognise him or either acting as one.
Terry still didn't react.
"I am Jem... my Young Lord." Jem looked at him, waiting for some response.
"My Young Lord, I'll return later with a stick so you can punish me for disobeying, but please proceed to the arena now. It's important."
Huh? So I am a Young Lord? This boy is my attendant? And am I some spoiled bastard who beats his servants?
"What's going on outside?"
Jem looked even more confused now. He wasn't sure if this was one of his young lord's usual antics to find fault and punish him.
"The Heir Selection, My Young Lord... It's today."
"Heir what?"
Jem's mouth opened, then closed. Totally confused about what his young lord was trying to pull. Was he pretending to be clueless now? Trying to back out after making a scene by challenging for the heir position?
"The Heir selection ceremony. To decide the next Head of House Drenok."
Hmm... heir selection? Out of nowhere Isekai? I just woke up.
He didn't say it all out loud. Instead, he looked down at his weak arms and legs and shook his head.
Whose stupid is this? With this weak-ass body?
With some effort, he stood up. The silk garments on him felt like dead weight. Heavy, itchy, annoying.
He got fed up and stripped them off. He pulled all the rings out from his fingers and gave it to Jem.
He rolled his shoulders and felt lighter and more relaxed instantly.
"Young Lord?" Jem was now totally confused trying to hold the fistful of rings. His young lord wasn't acting like himself at all. Something was very wrong.
"Take it. It's all yours."
Jem looked even more lost. His young lord giving away his fancy clothes? His favorite rings? What?
"ARE YOU COMING OR NOT!?"
That same taunting voice echoed from outside. Terry shook his head.
"Jem..." Terry called out.
"Yes, Young Lord?"
"Go tell them I'm not participating in whatever they've arranged."
"Young Lord... you can't."
"Why not?"
"You'll be disqualified and disgraced from the House. All your legal privileges will be revoked. All your titles and claims will be nullified."
"So what?"
"Young Lord... are you sick? Did you take something?"
"What do you mean?"
"If your claims and inheritance are nullified... you'll lose the House's protection, and you'll..." Jem hesitated, unsure if he should even say it. "...you'll be stripped of your rank. You'll be treated like a commoner. Maybe even worse."
"I have no choice?"
Jem shook his head.
Terry sighed. "Okay, fine. Let's get this done."
Jem still couldn't shake the weird feeling, his young lord wasn't even talking like his young lord.
Terry, now stripped of all the silk, stood in what looked like a full-body, two-piece innerwear. Still silk. He was about to walk out when Jem called out again.
"Young Lord, you can't go out there only in those innerwear. Please wear your robe."
"It's stupid. I'm fine like this."
For Terry, it was just like T-shirt and trousers.
As he walked out, the arena suddenly went silent. Terry got spooked, looking around, trying to figure out why suddenly everyone got silent.
He looked at the nearby guards. They were avoiding his gaze, but clearly trying not to laugh.
"What?" He gave them a thug-like glare and a chin lift. They all turned away.
"Fucking bunch of losers," he muttered.
The arena broke into giggles, like they'd just seen a clown.
"Did you lose your brain or what? Why are you naked?"
Terry heard that same bratty voice as he looked up.
In the center of the arena stood a Tall young boy dressed in armor with short-cropped red hair and a blade on each hip.