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An Instance Apart
Chapter 3 : The Living Murals

Chapter 3 : The Living Murals

'Ummm, slone in the hole, where am I?’

I questioned, the subsurface scattering of light through my eyelids invading my eyes, I stood up from my bed, squinting.

And took a dumb moment to get out of my nightmares and remembered where I was. And then I sighed.

“Hahh, so I am still here huh,” I said, dejected. “So it was not just a dream after all.”

Saying so I rubbed my eyes with one hand while the other reached for the bottle of water on my bedside table. Clutching the bottle lightly, I pulled back and….

….. immediately spilled some water on my sheets.

“Huh?” I remarked, surprised. I looked up to see if the cap was loose on the bottle, only to find a glass in my hand.

“Ah yes… different place, forgot.” I sighed. They did have commercial bottles here, just a different material and thought to be too “lowly” for nobles.

Fortunately, the blanket soaked up most of the water. And not wanting to tempt fate for longer, I got off the bed. The bott- glass still in my hand.

Now with the glass in hand, I walked to the washroom to freshen up a little. I had no idea how long I was asleep, or if something or someone was gonna come for me.

My memories do not dictate any outside interference in my suicide, as per usual standards in these situations, but who am I to know. Might as well be a strong Artist, and I’d be folded in half like a pancake.

So if I was gonna face something like that, or anyone, I’d much prefer to at least be brushed and fresh out of the washroom.

This was one of the changes in my attitude I noted since coming here. Back then I was never much for tidying up. A stereotypical artist even.

But here I realized they held a vast importance towards personal and public hygiene. Monthly budgets were dedicated towards toilets, free toiletries for people in need, and proper dedicated channels; it was a vast system.

I quite liked it to be honest.

If I had to change some bad habits, I might as well start now.

And so with a new white shirt (no frills), black pants, a deep blue overcoat to go with it, and some comfy underpants, oh, and of course the necessary tiara on my forehead, I made my way to the washroom.

And was astonished for the 3rd time since coming here.

What bathroom! What a luxury! Hooray for nobility!!

A white-marbled room, with a full-body mirror on the opposite wall, faced me.

Gazing at the mirror for a moment I confirmed most of me sparkled bright blue like a disney princess and the space above my head still slithering but still ethereal.

To my right was a royally ornate sink with another smaller mirror on top of it. At the center sat a bronze bathtub, enough to comfortably drown me in-

“No! No drowning right now. Ah please, don’t ruin this good mood.” I calmed myself. And looked at it again, this time with a little less enthusiasm. But then my eyes traveled to my left shoulder…

And to my immediate left was a goddamn freaking sofa! Just wow….

Eventually, I also found a smaller cabin connected to the bathroom which led to a much smaller, but equally royal-ly toilet.

And for a second I felt immense regret. Only if I had my smartphone here….

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“Ah, that was fun.”

I remarked as I made my way out of the bathroom, a towel on my head and the overcoat in my hand. I realized it later, but it was really stupid to take it in.

Fortunately, the towel was hanging inside, as I had guessed; well saw in my memories for the most part.

‘It really would have been perfect if they had a better toothbrush’ I sighed as a bitter feeling filled my mouth and my tongue rolled over the teeth.

They do not produce a proper commercial toothbrush here, but rather they grow it here.

Yeah, unbelievable. But true.

It’s basically the stem of a certain herbal tree, small yet firm, which is washed and processed to remove any bacteria on its surface before distributing to the public.

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To use it, you must bite on one end and chew on it constantly for a few minutes before it turns soft, and then you rub those soft-soft invading fibers all across your teeth before gargling them out and hoping you did not swallow any.

It felt absurd to me. It was just sooo much work for something so simple. But then again, this was one of the most common practices in this world and is said to be extremely beneficial for the teeth.

And I have to agree I guess. My new teeth do look brilliant.

Anyway, that’s enough of the toilet, let’s focus on some more important things.

Like, what am I supposed to do now? How do I go back? Can I go back? What’s for dinner? Is my transmigration a coincidence or a conspiracy by some higher power?

“I feel like becoming an Artist should be the first set of actions to be getting closer to any of my goals. As much as I know about this world, this is a dangerous world.” I wondered.

Although order has been established to a high degree over centuries, the esoteric nature of Artists and the way their powers work makes this a demanding place to live in.

Especially for someone like me who’s completely unfamiliar with this kinda situation.

So if anything, I’ll at least have a way to protect myself, and maybe enjoy the cool superpowers!

Like hell am I gonna give up a chance to play with literal fucking powers when they are so close to me!

“Okay, so the next set of actions. Getting to the Vault!” I gazed at the huge reverse-kite-shaped metal mountain hovering through the balcony.

Yes, that was the place where some of my answers might await.

Not to mention it’s literally a floating mountain holy fuck! Hell as if I don’t wanna see that up close.

Even though I have tons of memories detailing it up close and all, but common, Connor was very desensitized to unnatural.

But the current me? Oh boy, it’s just the stuff of my dreams.

And so with the towel thrown on the bed,(a secret: I’m a rich man now), I made my way out of the room to the colorful halls.

And very immediately I’m greeted by two guards standing at two sides of my gate. Were they here the last time?

I can’t really remember, but last time…. last time I was barely conscious, so I’ll let it slip.

And I notice their attire. It wasn’t any of the metal plates or the bulky armor stuff I would’ve imagined. But rather a nicely designed Western Xia kinda mail armor with dark colored leather robes on top, ‘obviously to cook them alive’, and a medieval German helmet covering their entire face. They both had a sword on the waist, a spear in their arms, and from my memories, a firearm holstered under their robe.

It was not the modern firearm as far as I can remember, but more of an earlier rendition with better range due to the quality of gunpowder used here.

Their robes had naught but an insignia over their chest, depicting the Servouz noble house. Well, my house now.

“Let the Steward know I wish to take a detour to the Vault. Let him know I would be in the dining hall should he have finished his preparations.” I ordered, calmly, even though I felt weirdly nervous inside.

One of them, the one on my right bowed in my direction, and walked away in an attenuation of thuds. While the other trailed behind me as I made my way to the dining hall.

These were the times I was just grateful that my memories were so well coordinated. It saves me so much embarrassment and perhaps suspicion.

Walking for a few minutes, through doorways and branching halls, one of them finally opened to a huge hall with an equally long dining table in the center with 2 maids working like bees around a hive; depositing food, arranging plates, pouring water, and so on; all in preparation for me.

Hearing me enter, they completed the final touches and moved away along the edges of the room, perhaps waiting for any demands from me.

I didn't really like them waiting for me like this, so I dismissed them “You all can leave now. Thank you.”

And so finally alone in the dining hall, I focused on lunch. As I had realized through my walk, I might’ve slept for more than a day.

Which honestly felt weird to me. Cause I did not think I was that tired. Nor did I know how I was so sure about the day.

It was just like a soft whisper in my head. A fairy of dreams coming and depositing me information about time and date. If I focused, it’d extend to a package per second.

It was fascinating, yet frightening. Like the stories of witches who took away naughty kids for breakfast from their houses.

At least it was not there in the dining hall.

Throughout lunch, I stewed it in my head. The taste of food was pretty good but still an undertone in my thoughts.

The door opposite me opened and walked in the Steward. Mr. Ricono Arden. Dressed in a red shirt and purple velvet coat with a lapel pin of House Servouz on his chest, he walked in his high black boots with straight shoulders, a face of indifference classic to almost all tall good-looking men.

He walked by my side and with a hand on his stomach, he silently said “Sir, your entourage is ready by the main gate. Please, whenever you wish.”

“Let’s go then. I’m done here anyway.” I wiped my face with the towel by my side and stood up.

“As you wish” Ricono replied as he trailed behind me.

Back in the hallways, I felt the certainty of time return. The familiar package in my mind.

I ignored it for now, more focused on navigating my way.

Suddenly I had a thought, more of a curiosity, and I asked the steward without turning “What is Father’s reaction to this?” The word father felt foreign in my pronunciation, rolling over my tongue.

“He has no reason to stop his children from touring their region, nor does he have the time to be bothered by it. Sir.” He replied curtly.

“Hmm”

Of course, I kinda expected it. I was the youngest in the family, with never an explicit interest in my father’s position, so naturally, I was mostly treated like air.

‘Ah, the feeling of rich trash with no responsibilities.’ I grimaced as a deep sense of emptiness filled me.

Everything felt so dull, so meaningless. Why was I doing it? What’s even the point of this trip? I already know I’m not fit to be an Artis-

‘Hahhh’

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