He honestly wished he had devoured the soul of the poor sap whose body he stole.

“More sauce,” he ordered.

“Yes, young master.” When a maid came to replace the empty bowl with another garlic sauce he cast an idle eye on her.

Connection: Negative

Noticing his gaze she visibly shivered before scurrying back to the wings of the dining room. He snorted and then slathered the fish he was having for breakfast with sauce. It admittedly tasted pretty good without it but he hadn’t had much of an appetite given the circumstances.

Mystery number one: Three days ago he found himself in this world in the body of this ‘Young Master’ in what he assumed was a decently sized city. Not that he stepped out to explore it when he couldn’t even find the bathroom. He had servants to wait on him, a manor big enough that he still hadn’t seen all the rooms, fine food, silver under his mattress, and a shitty reputation.

It was a good thing stuck-up prick was his second language, the servants still hadn’t realized he had no idea what the hell he was doing.

“I’m done,” he said, pushing away from the table. He could drown the food with sauce and still not taste a thing. As the servants cleared the tables and opened the door for him he looked around.

Connection: Negative

Connection: Negative

Connection: Negative

Every person he made eye contact with seemed to shrink further. The table was hastily cleared and they assembled to see him out. He left the dining room between rows of bowing servants and traced the painfully memorized path to his bedroom.

The past two days of his transmigration were hectic. Between duping the workers and familiarizing himself with the area without drawing suspicion he could barely rest. Hell just figuring out how to get from his room to the dining room was an exercise in stress.

It was gaudy and cluttered in a way only money could do. All red silk and crushed velvet, a large bed surrounded by silk drapes dominates the center of the room its headboard carved with dancing dragons and phoenixes. He paused in front of a polished bronze mirror that reached from floor to ceiling. A stranger stared back at him with, a sharp jaw and sharper apricot eyes, long black hair. Whatever his complaints about the circumstances at least the meat suit was handsome… and more.

He grabbed one side of the mirror and lifted. The decorative base cleared the floor and the top scraped the ceiling; he didn’t know exactly how heavy the mirror was but it shouldn’t have been so easy for him to lift with a single hand. He had noticed it the second day, after panicking the entirety of the first, some kind of power coursing through him. He wasn’t alone either, as some of his guards felt the same way to him if at varying levels of intensity. Mystery number two: Magic powers, but what he could do with them beyond super strength he didn’t know. Whether someone could use that magic to expose him he also didn’t know.

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No pressure.

Mystery number three was the one he had the most hope in to guarantee his safety when the gig was up. He stared at himself in the mirror and the next second golden words burned in the reflection.

Everlasting Hundred Blessings Charitable Prosperity

Connection: Host

He looked to the side to see the same words still burning in the air not matching up with the reflection at all. What they meant? He had no clue, he could certainly use some charity right now though. The Connection was the key, it only measured people and most of the ones around him were negative finding someone to connect to was priority number one.

A knock on the door.

“Enter.” At his bidding, an older man entered the room. He was hunched over, servile, dressed in a flowing robe with his hair cropped close to his skull and hidden under a black cap. With Needle-like eyes and a rather stereotypical goatee, he looked like a third-rate Disney villain. He was also the most important servant in the estate, possessing more of that magical super strength; and the most dangerous.

He called him Mr. Goatee.

Connection: Valid

Mr. Goatee was also the only one in the entire estate that he could connect with, damn if he didn’t know why though.

“How is your health, Young Master?”

“Terrible,” he said. Mr. Goatee looked at him strangely. Sure it was a lame excuse but he should have expected- oh the mirror. He let it go and it fell with a bang, he took some pleasure that he wasn’t alone in jumping at the sound.

As Mr. Goatee considered what to say he brought up the burning words again. Mr. Goatee didn’t seem to notice it floating between them just as he didn’t notice anything that would explain why he could Connect with this man but no others. So long as he willed it he could connect right now and perhaps figure it out but Mr. Goatee knew the Young Master too well for him to trust something as personal sounding as a Connection to him.

Mr. Goatee finally seemed to get his nerve together, clasping his hands and bowing low. “Young Master, my apologies, but we can’t delay anymore.” Mr. Goatee sounded serious this time, weaseling his way out of this one would be difficult.

“If I don’t want to rush then I won’t. Who dares to make me?” It was distressing how easily he fit into the mold of an arrogant noble scion. He could feel his working-class background crying in pain.

“I understand Young Master, but it will greatly offend the Lan family if we’re late to the wedding.”

This Young Master had too many damn invitations. If it wasn’t for a wedding then it was for a party or a night on the town. His health excuse was already wearing thin but he couldn’t help it. Fooling the servants was one thing, the hierarchy prevented them from asking too many questions. Fellow nobles or, god forbid, friends? They’d realize something was wrong in an instant.

“Just send them my congratulations. I’m not feeling well.” Probably rude but he didn’t care, whatever reputation this body had wasn’t as important as his safety, and if it meant he’d get fewer invitations in the future then all the better.

“But Young Master how will we explain that to your bride!” Mr. Goatee said, exasperated.

“My what?”