"Sir Lyxander, by the authority of the Empire, you are under arrest."
—
Lyxander stood motionless at the doorway. Within seconds, his mind raced, rapidly assembling possible scenarios.
This was an innate ability carried over from his previous life—a combat instinct forged through countless battles. He could react and determine the optimal course of action in the shortest possible time.
After evaluating the plan forming in his head, he took a piece of paper and a pen, leaving a short note on the dining table.
The house was empty at the time.
His father and younger sister were at the university, while his mother had to attend a social gathering.
Lyxander took a black coat from the hanger and slipped the pen into its pocket.
"Sorry to keep you waiting. Let's go," he said politely.
Together with the law enforcement officer, he descended from the fourth floor to the lobby on the first.
He did not find the situation overly suspicious. His older brother was a military officer—if this was merely a misunderstanding, it should be easily resolved.
However, Lyxander hesitated over one thing: whether to ask the reason for his arrest. It was a simple question, yet he chose not to ask. The reason was equally simple—**irregularities**.
The first irregularity: while he was in the hospital, no police or law enforcement officers had come to question him about the accident. Even his brother, a military officer, had not asked him anything.
The second irregularity: only one officer had come to arrest him. If he truly was to be detained, there was always the risk of escape or resistance—so why had only one officer been sent?
The third irregularity: within Lyxander's memories, there was no crime serious enough to warrant an arrest.
Asking questions while they were alone inside the apartment would only put him at risk. Thus, he decided to wait and ask outside, where there were many people—where he could call for help if threatened.
When they reached the area outside the apartment building, Lyxander slowed to a stop and asked with a friendly expression,
"Please excuse me, but I'm suffering from memory loss. May I ask why I'm being detained?"
The officer looked at him coldly for a moment, then his smile thawed like melting ice.
"Ah! That's right—I forgot to mention it. My apologies, I have quite a poor memory," the officer said sheepishly.
He continued, "Actually, you're not being detained for a criminal case. However, after investigating your accident, we discovered that it appears someone threatened you into deliberately crashing into the truck."
Lyxander froze.
His pupils dilated, and the scent of danger crept across his body.
Thanks to the photographic memory of Lyxander's body, he had been able to access nearly all of its memories—except for one thing: the accident itself.
Now, the mystery behind Lyxander's apparent suicide attempt finally surfaced.
Without further hesitation, he followed the officer toward the parking area, temporarily setting aside all suspicions.
A luxurious black car awaited them.
A dark-skinned man in a military uniform stood by the door and opened it to welcome them inside.
The interior of the vehicle was spacious, with ample legroom. The dark-skinned man took the driver's seat, and beside him sat a woman with golden hair, also wearing a military uniform.
Lyxander and the officer sat in the middle row, while two others occupied the back seats: a man cradling a sword, and a woman reading a book with a flat, emotionless expression.
The officer who had escorted him removed his hat, revealing white hair and an aged face marked by wrinkles—yet filled with charisma. His clear blue eyes looked at Lyxander with a friendly smile.
"My apologies for not properly introducing myself. Simon Chrys, a Crow of captain rank."
Crow? Captain? Lyxander thought in confusion.
Seeing his puzzled expression, Simon continued.
"The world is always filled with mysteries. You may think you know many things, but in truth, you only know what you are allowed to know."
"There are many hidden organizations that must never be known to the public. One of them is the Entity Corporation."
"Our organization, Entity Corporation, handles various supernatural cases involving entities and Identity users."
Lyxander fell silent. He did not immediately jump to conclusions or ask what entities or Identity users were. Knowing he was now under a secret military organization, he was certain that acting rashly would be unwise. He decided that remaining silent was the best choice.
Many people believe that gathering information is the best way to confront the unknown. But often, ignorance is far safer. Secret organizations clearly possess information not meant for outsiders.
Seeing Lyxander remain quiet, Simon took the initiative to explain.
"You seem cautious. Don't worry—the information I'll share from now on isn't an issue. You may ask."
Lyxander listened carefully and finally spoke.
"What are entities and Identity users?"
Simon clenched his fist and extended it toward him.
"What is that?" Lyxander muttered in confusion.
Simon opened his palm.
A massive flame burst forth, soaring upward like a fountain.
Lyxander recoiled instinctively—then quickly calmed himself.
"What is this, magic?" he asked uncertainly.
Simon shook his head.
"Not magic. This is the ability of an Identity user. Rather than magic, it's closer to sorcery, as it requires no special tricks."
"Magic… magic really exists in this world. Damn it—this really is another world," Lyxander muttered inwardly.
"Identity is an ability that emerges from a virus called Entity. We call those infected by Entity 'Identity users.' But like most viruses, Entity often corrupts the use of Identity and turns the host into an Entity," Simon continued.
"The accident that happened to you is suspected to have been caused by an Identity user."
Understanding began to dawn on Lyxander. With a clearer picture of what had happened, he calmly considered his next question.
"What are you going to do to me?"
Simon smiled—releasing a killing intent that chilled the air.
"We're going to kill you."
Lyxander's body tensed instantly.
By reflex, he pulled the pen from his pocket and stabbed toward Simon.
Tick!
The attack was easily deflected.
But it was merely a feint. Lyxander swiftly twisted his body and launched a left kick.
Smack!
The kick was blocked by Simon's right hand, reinforced by his left.
Unfortunately for Simon, that was exactly the posture Lyxander wanted.
In an instant, Lyxander flung open the car door and skillfully slipped his leg under Simon's armpit like a slick eel.
Before Simon could react, Lyxander yanked his collar and attempted a backward roll—intending to use Simon as a human cushion when they hit the asphalt.
But Simon's body didn't move at all.
A fatal mistake.
In his previous life, Lyxander possessed overwhelming strength—so great that even his own body could barely contain it.
But the body he now occupied was weak.
He had never realized it, having never tested it in combat—until now. And that realization came far too late.
Lyxander released his grip on Simon's collar. He stared up at the car's ceiling and laughed.
"Hahahahaha… let's talk this out calmly."
Before he could do anything else, a fist flew toward his face.
Smack!
In an instant, Lyxander's consciousness faded, shrouded in mist.
"Bastard…"
His final curse before blacking out.