Zhang Lu sat on the cold stone floor, knees drawn to his chest, staring at the words bleeding down the wall.
**THERE IS NO ESCAPE**
They glistened wetly in the lantern's blue glow, thick and crimson, like an accusation that refused to dry. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, so loud it felt as though it might tear free of his chest.
"Okay," he whispered into the silence. "Okay, Zhang Lu. Freak out productively."
Sarcasm had always been his armor.
Back home, when the rent was overdue or Orion blew their last cash on junk food, Zhang Lu cracked jokes instead of screaming. *Hey, at least we're not starving… yet.* It never fixed anything—but it kept him upright.
Here?
It barely helped.
Still, he forced out a hollow laugh. "Great. Transmigrated into my favorite character, and the welcome committee writes in blood. Five-star experience."
His hands trembled.
Gloved hands.
Lewis's hands.
He lifted one slowly, turning it beneath the lantern light. Red smears stained the pristine white fabric. Blood. Not his—the wall's. He must have touched it earlier, panic guiding his movements before his mind caught up.
The metallic scent reached him then. Sharp. Undeniably real.
His stomach lurched.
"Nope," he muttered. "Not throwing up on day one. Lewis wouldn't puke. Probably."
He pushed himself to his feet, legs unsteady, lantern clenched in his other hand. It was warm—*alive*, almost—pulsing faintly like a second heart. Unsettling.
Comforting.
It felt right in his grip, as though it had always belonged there.
*Focus.*
First priority: clean up.
He couldn't be seen wandering around with blood on his hands—especially not by Lewis's sister.
Merlina.
Fifteen. Sharp-eyed. Too perceptive for her own good. In the novel, she noticed everything—tone shifts, pauses, lies that slipped a fraction too slow. If she saw him like this, she wouldn't just panic.
She'd *know* something was wrong.
Zhang Lu inhaled deeply. "You're Lewis now. Act like it. Brood. Glare meaningfully. Do not hyperventilate."
He opened the chamber door.
It creaked softly, revealing a narrow hallway lit by mana crystals embedded in the walls. Their pale glow flickered unevenly, casting elongated shadows across peeling wallpaper etched with faded arcane patterns. The air was cool and damp, tinged with old paper and dried herbs.
The building *felt* ancient.
He paused, listening.
Dripping water. Somewhere below, a soft clink—ceramic against metal. Someone was awake.
His heart twisted.
Merlina.
A strange protectiveness surged through him, instinctive and immediate. His body remembered what his mind hadn't lived.
He moved carefully down the hall, stepping around a warped floorboard near the third panel—one Lewis had once avoided during a late-night investigation scene.
Zhang Lu exhaled softly. "Thanks, past me. Obsessive rereading finally pays off."
A door stood ajar on the left.
Bathroom.
He slipped inside.
Cramped. Cracked porcelain tiles. A single sink with a brass faucet. No electric light—only a steady mana orb glowing above the mirror. Reliable. Calm. Nothing like the dying bulb back home.
He set the lantern on the sink.
Blue light washed over his reflection.
Lewis stared back at him.
Sharp features. Dark hair framing a pale face. Brown eyes wide—not with confidence, but fear struggling beneath a practiced calm. Not the brooding protagonist from the illustrations.
Just a man pretending not to break.
"Pull it together," Zhang Lu muttered.
He peeled off the gloves carefully, as though they might resist. Blood smeared his palms, sticky and warm. He turned the faucet.
The water sputtered rusty, then ran clear and cold.
He scrubbed hard, watching red spiral down the drain.
*First rule in a new world,* he thought grimly. *Wash the blood off your hands.*
Classic hero stuff.
Except this wasn't heroic. In *Chronicles of Mysteries*, blood-written warnings meant ancient entities stirring—or assassins marking prey.
Lewis's life was full of both.
Once his hands were clean, he splashed water onto his face. The cold shock steadied him. Anchored him in the moment.
He studied the mirror again and practiced.
A tilt of the head. Eyes half-lidded. A faint, knowing smirk.
There.
*Mysterious.*
Not *I woke up in the wrong universe* mysterious.
He dried his hands on a threadbare towel. Lavender and smoke lingered in the fabric. A poor household's attempt at warmth.
Okay.
Next step: reconnaissance.
The apartment stretched larger than Zhang Lu's old place—an attic conversion inside an ancient tower block at the edge of Nocturne City. Narrow staircases twisted between levels. Alcoves hid shelves stuffed with forbidden-looking artifacts. Poverty here meant patched rugs and cracked furniture—but magic softened the edges: self-stirring pots, ever-burning candles.
He stepped back into the hall, lantern swinging easily in his grip now.
Down the stairs.
Bookshelves lined the walls—tomes, vials, charms humming faintly. Mana thrummed in the air, deep and resonant. Zhang Lu felt it flow through Lewis's veins.
Strong.
Abundant.
Intoxicating.
He brushed his fingers against a wall crystal. It brightened instantly.
Effortless.
"Holy shit," he breathed. Awe and terror tangled together. "I can actually do magic."
Real magic.
Not sparks and headaches.
But power here came with costs—debts, consequences, mysteries that devoured the curious.
He reached the lower level.
The main living area opened before him. A cold hearth. A threadbare sofa. Papers and journals scattered across a low table. Heavy curtains blocked the eternal twilight outside.
And at the stove—
Merlina.
Her back was to him. Long dark hair tied with a ribbon, softer than Lewis's but unmistakably related. She wore a faded dress with pockets bulging with tools and charms. Steam rose from the pot she stirred, carrying a bitter herbal scent.
Zhang Lu froze.
*Act normal.*
She sensed him instantly.
Turning, she met his eyes—green, sharp, alert. Warmth flickered there, tempered by constant caution.
"Brother?" Her voice was gentle, edged with concern. "You're up early. Couldn't sleep again?"
Lewis's voice answered from Zhang Lu's throat—deeper, smoother than his own had ever been. "Yeah. Rough night."
He stepped closer, half-smile in place.
Merlina studied him. Too closely. "You look… off. Paler than usual. And why bring the lantern inside?"
Damn.
"Habit," he said evenly. "From the tower."
She nodded, unconvinced but unwilling to push. She ladled the steaming liquid into two chipped mugs and gestured to the table. "Sit. Bitterroot tea. Your mana feels unsteady."
*She can sense it?*
He sat.
The tea burned his tongue, warmth spreading through his core.
"Thanks, Lina."
Her smile softened. "Nightmares again? About Mother?"
The question struck deep.
Zhang Lu nodded carefully. "Something like that."
Merlina wrapped her hands around her mug. "You don't have to carry everything alone. We're in this together. Me, you… and Elias, when he remembers he has a family."
Elias. Middle sibling. Away, for now.
She sipped, watching him. "You were up there all night again, weren't you? Those journals."
Journals.
Dangerous ones.
"Yeah," Zhang Lu said. "Found something interesting."
Her eyes sharpened. "Tell me later. When we're alone."
The moment almost felt normal.
They talked quietly. She teased him about brooding. Laughed about a failed illusion spell that turned her hair blue for a day. Zhang Lu found himself smiling—*really* smiling.
She reminded him of Orion.
Different. But familiar.
The thought hurt.
Then—
**Knock.**
Loud. Sharp. Insistent.
Merlina stiffened. "That's him."
Zhang Lu's blood ran cold.
Mr. Voss.
The landlord. Thin as a shadow. Obsessed with "pipe inspections." An information broker in disguise.
"Again?" Zhang Lu muttered, channeling Lewis's dry tone.
"Third time this week," Merlina whispered. "He asked about you yesterday."
The knocking intensified.
"Master Lewis? Miss Merlina? Open up—it's about the water mains!"
Zhang Lu stood.
The lantern flared brighter in his hand.
Whatever Lewis had uncovered—it wasn't dormant.
And whatever dragged Zhang Lu into this body had no intention of letting him settle in peacefully.
Merlina grabbed his sleeve, eyes urgent. "The journal. The one with the shadow seal. We can't let him in. Not tonight."
Tonight.
Something was moving.
Zhang Lu took a steadying breath.
There was no easing into this world.
He was already inside the mystery.
And it was knocking at the door.