Chapter 2: A New Reality

Dipak's eyes fluttered open, squinting against the morning light filtering through worn curtains. For a moment, he lay still, hoping against hope that the events of the previous night had been a vivid nightmare. But as he took in the unfamiliar surroundings—the shabby wallpaper, the creaky wooden floor, the scent of old books—reality crashed down upon him.

He was in Tingen City, in the modest two-bedroom apartment of the Moretti family. The memories of his previous life mingled uneasily with those of Klein Moretti, the body he now inhabited. He knew this room. It was Klein's, filled with remnants of his past life: a few books on occultism, a worn desk, and a drawer that held Klein's revolver, a weapon he kept for reasons even Dipak didn't fully understand.

He sat up abruptly, his head spinning. "This is real," he muttered, running a hand through Klein's curly hair. "I really did... die. And now I'm here."

To confirm his suspicions, he whispered, "Status." The now-familiar translucent screen appeared before his eyes:

Name: Klein Moretti (Dipak)

Age: 22

Date: 5th of April, 1349

Sequence: N/A

Spiritual Power: 15%

System Points: 0/5

Strength: 6

Agility: 5

Constitution: 7

Intelligence: 8

Spirituality: 3

Luck: ?

Skills:

- Talisman Making (Novice)

- History (Intermediate)

- Occult Knowledge (Beginner)

```

The information was both comforting and unsettling. The date—5th of April, 1349—confirmed his worst fears. He was indeed in the world of *Lord of the Mysteries*, the web novel he had read so fervently. But his knowledge was limited. He had only made it through the first 30 chapters before... before his untimely death in his original world. That regret gnawed at him now. If only he had read further, he might have known more, might have been better prepared for whatever was to come.

Dipak shook his head, pushing the thoughts away. He needed to establish a cover for the blood from last night. With a grimace, he reached for a letter opener on the nearby desk. "This is going to hurt," he muttered, then quickly drew the blade across his forearm, creating a shallow but noticeable cut.

He hissed in pain as blood welled up from the wound. It wasn't deep, but it would explain the bloodstains if anyone had noticed them.

As if on cue, a knock sounded at the door. "Klein? Are you awake? Breakfast is ready!"

Dipak's heart raced. This must be Melissa, Klein's younger sister. The memories of her flooded his mind—how she cared for Klein after their parents died, how she tried to keep the family together despite their financial struggles. "I'll be right there!" he called back, trying to steady his voice. "Just... dealing with a small accident!"

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

He quickly dressed, fumbling with the unfamiliar buttons of Klein's outdated clothes. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and stepped into the hallway.

Melissa was waiting in the small kitchen, her curly brown hair framing a face creased with worry. "Klein? What happened? Are you alright?"

Dipak held up his arm, showing the cut. "It's nothing serious," he said, trying to sound reassuring. "I was half-asleep last night and accidentally cut myself with the letter opener. There might be some blood in the bathroom—I tried to clean it up, but I was pretty out of it."

Melissa's eyes widened with concern. "Oh, Klein! You should be more careful!" She hurried over to examine the wound. "Does it need stitches? Should we call a doctor?"

"No, no," Dipak said quickly, pulling his arm back. "It's really not that bad. I was just clumsy and tired. I'm sorry if I worried you."

Melissa frowned, clearly not entirely convinced. "Well, at least let me bandage it properly after breakfast. And you should take it easy today."

As they sat down to eat, Dipak could feel Melissa's worried gaze on him. He forced himself to eat normally, all the while his mind racing. He had successfully explained away the blood, but now he needed to navigate this new life—Klein's life—without raising suspicion.

The kitchen was small but tidy, a testament to Melissa's efforts to maintain some semblance of order in their difficult lives. The table, although worn, was clean, and the dishes neatly stacked. The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, offering a momentary comfort in this otherwise harsh reality.

"Klein, after breakfast, could you go to the market and buy some bread?" Melissa asked as she poured him some coffee. "We're almost out, and I need to finish preparing the rest of the meals for today."

Dipak nodded, trying to focus on the mundane task at hand. "Sure, I'll go after breakfast."

As he finished his coffee, Dipak's mind wandered. He knew that today was significant, but he couldn't quite place why. The nagging feeling that he was forgetting something important persisted, but he pushed it aside for now. He had a task to complete.

"Alright, I'll be back soon," Dipak said, his voice steadier now as he opened the door and stepped out into the streets of Tingen. The cool morning air hit his face, bringing with it a mix of unfamiliar scents - coal smoke, freshly baked bread, and something vaguely metallic.

As he made his way towards the market, Dipak's senses were overwhelmed by the bustling life of Tingen City. The cobblestone streets stretched out before him, lined with a mix of modest dwellings and grander buildings. Gas lamps, unlit in the morning light, stood sentinel along the thoroughfares.

Dipak found himself constantly adjusting his pace to navigate through the crowd. Men in dark suits and top hats strode purposefully alongside laborers in worn clothes. Women in long dresses and elaborate hats strolled arm-in-arm, their conversations a soft murmur amidst the city's din.

The distant whistle of a steam engine pierced the air, reminding Dipak of the industrial nature of this world. Horse-drawn carriages clattered by, their drivers calling out warnings to pedestrians who strayed too close.

As he neared the market, the crowds grew denser and more diverse. Street vendors called out their wares, their voices competing with the general hubbub. The aroma of fresh produce mingled with the less pleasant smells of the city, creating a unique olfactory tapestry.

Tingen City Market

The market square bustled with activity, a vibrant heart at the centre of Tingen's working-class district. Stalls and carts lined the edges, offering a dizzying array of goods:

- Produce vendors displayed pyramids of apples, pears, and exotic fruits from distant lands.

- Butchers' stalls hung with various cuts of meat, the metallic scent of blood mixing with the aroma of spices.

- Fishmongers arranged their catch on beds of ice, calling out the day's specials.

- Bakers' carts wafted the irresistible smell of fresh bread and pastries.

- Flower sellers added splashes of color with their bouquets and potted plants.

- Clothiers hung their wares from awnings, fabrics fluttering in the breeze.

The cacophony of voices haggling over prices, sharing gossip, and hawking wares created a constant background hum. Children darted between stalls, playing games or running errands for their parents.

At the centre of the square, an ornate fountain depicted scenes from Tingen's history, its waters catching the morning light.

Dipak found himself pausing at the edge of the market square, taking in the scene before him. It was overwhelming, yet strangely familiar. Klein's memories provided context, but Dipak's own wonder at experiencing this new world firsthand couldn't be suppressed.

He made his way to a baker's stall, the scent of freshly baked bread guiding him. As he waited in line, he overheard snatches of conversation from those around him:

"Did you hear about the accident at the factory?"

"I tell you, these spiritualist circles are getting out of hand..."

"The Loen Kingdom's getting too big for its britches, mark my words."

Each snippet of dialogue painted a picture of a world on the cusp of change, fraught with tension and possibility. Dipak found himself fascinated, despite the undercurrent of anxiety about his situation.

When it was his turn, he purchased a loaf of bread, fumbling slightly with the unfamiliar coins. The baker, a portly man with flour-dusted cheeks, gave him a quizzical look but said nothing.

As Dipak turned to leave, bread tucked under his arm, he caught sight of a newspaper stand. The headlines spoke of political tensions, industrial advancements, and, intriguingly, a series of unexplained phenomena that had the city buzzing with speculation.

He lingered for a moment, tempted to buy a paper, but remembered his limited funds and Melissa's worried face. With a sigh, he turned away and began the journey home.

As he walked, Dipak's mind whirled with everything he had seen and heard. The sights, sounds, and smells of Tingen City were no longer just words on a page or figments of his imagination. They were real, tangible, and now an integral part of his new life.

The weight of the bread under his arm and the cobblestones beneath his feet grounded him in this new reality. Whatever challenges lay ahead - and he knew there would be many - Dipak realized he would face them not just with the memories and skills of

Klein Moretti, but with his own determination to understand and thrive in this complex, fascinating world.