Pillars of red flames and smoke burned in the darkness, accompanied by sizzling sounds as if something was being burnt.

The fire burnt him. His lungs, his eyes, and his very body. Perhaps, he was the one making the sizzling sound.

"It's Painful!"

"Very Painful!"

"But I deserve it..." Connor conformed himself to believe that this was his hell.

.....

But just as he said, a flash of white light pierced the burning hell!

In that light, Connor felt his strength return, A sense of overwhelming vitality came over him, and like a man seeking more, he raised out for more. He raised and struggled for the light.

He wanted to touch it.

He realized that it was probably his family—his wife and daughter—calling out to him.

Despite feeling ashamed to face them, he still yearned for the chance to meet them, if only to bid them farewell. If only to apologize for being the one that became their family in that world. But just as he took a step, the light showed brighter.

Banishing the flames in the bright whiteness!

White illusory birds emerged and flew around the light. As if entranced by the ethereal radiance. They were like moths attracted to the light. Then, the burning flames completely disappeared and the white orb of light dimmed before dissipating completely.

"Ah...Layla? Emerald?"

His vision first blurred before a crimson hue screened it.

Connor suddenly stood up while panting with great effort. In his hell, he saw the light which induced great hope in his heart.

It gave him hope that perhaps even though he didn't deserve it. He could still meet his family.

Collecting himself, Connor whipped the red hue that obstructed his vision. And as he expected to find himself in some heavenly world with his family, he froze from what he saw instead.

There were no fluffy clouds or pearly gates or beautiful winged creatures. Nor any sign of his family. Instead, all that was seen was a scattered room filled with kitchen utensils. Things like broken plates and bent knives poking rigid in the ground. A pan laid on the edge of the table beside him on the left. It leaked a yellowish liquid; Perhaps it was grease.

On his right, a wooden cupboard stood arranged In a line sequence. Each is carrying atop, a specific kitchen utensil.

Things like spoons, pots, and a peculiar modern cooker. But despite the variety of things in the room, they all shared one single thing. A certain charred mark marred on their surface.

While he was startled and confused, he looked down on his body.

His eyes first cut a glance at the red liquid stained on his body in a cascading manner. But the red liquid seemed to originate from his left chest area, as above there was no such color. And he was dressed in a white shirt, although now stained.

"Is this blood?" A sense of realization dawned on him. One that he hoped was unfounded.

The ground was slick and ash as if made from nothing but cement. But from the spot he sat was black, a charred blackness that spread out to the rest of the room. From the spot he sat was chaos, he was surrounded by broken plates, slashed pots, and knives poking the ground.

It was like the anomaly that affected the room started from him.

He took in a sharp breath, suppressing the realization that seemed to dawn on him. This all couldn't be real. He told himself.

He looked at his left hand where a sharp scalpel knife drenched in blood resided . Did I kill myself? Or did someone die?

He looked around and attempted to stand to his feet. But as soon as he tried, he was hit by a wave of nausea and weakness that nearly brought him to his knees. Luckily, the table on the left was an adequate supporter which he leaned on.

The room was walled around on the top walls with iron pipes that ended behind him before the oriel window and extended into the upper ceiling. The faint sound of pumping liquid could be heard from the pipes.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

He clenched his hand on the edge of the desk, his teeth gritting against each other in deep anger and sadness.

"Why?"

Subsequently, he lifted his head a bit and turned around slowly.

His eyes met the oriel window behind him with a glass that had black lines that resembled flowers amidst thorns. It was an elegant design. But one Connor did not pay any attention to.

He approached the window and gazed out into the open.

A vast city with towering spires. Chimneys puffed black smoke into the air, and a cluster of buildings with vastly different yet identical styles appeared. The sky was ruled by the golden sun partially but deeply shrouded by dark clouds which were either caused by the smoke pumped into the sky or the coming rain.

The overall visage of the city reminded him of the tales of the Victorian-era buildings he once read in his home world.

No! Connor was abruptly terrified, with a surge of despair gnawing on his bones and flesh. He felt as if the walls were tightening, his head spinning with nausea and bile churning in his stomach.

He stumbled backward as the realization he struggled to push back came knocking back in him.

I've Transmigrated again!

Pa!

His buttocks slammed on the desk, causing the pan that hung barely on the edge of the table to fall off. Hitting the floor in a resounding clank.

Unbothered by the sound, Connor turned around and looked at the rest of the room.

It was not very big with a brown door at the line of his sight. The rest of the compartment was unique with brown, slightly charred cupboards on both sides, lining in sequence. On top of them were utensils.

Taking all this in, Connor grasped that the space was possibly a kitchen.

Looking at his left hand; The blooded scalpel. Connor gritted in anger, before saying: "Did you kill yourself? Because of you, I again transmigrated into another world. Another life of pain, another life of ruining another family by associating with them. Isn't it too cruel?"

Connor found it easier to blame the original owner of the body.

"Why this again? Haven't I lived enough? Haven't I lost enough? Isn't it too cruel to have me reborn again?" He addressed the air, or at least whatever higher being was responsible for his dreaded immortality.

"Who wants this? Who would prefer to live like this? How many goodbyes have I given or been given? And to leave it all again? Don't I deserve a reward if this was some cosmic game? Even if you wanted me to be reborn, couldn't you have granted me a moment with my dead family?" Connor clenched his fist on his bloodied chest-The clothes wrinkled as a result.

After a few seconds, he lowered his eyes, "Not even a heartbeat. Even in this world, I don't have a heartbeat. No matter how many times I'm reborn, I never have a heartbeat. Maybe that's why I never truly die because I was never truly alive."

As he willowed in his despair with tears streaming down his cheeks, he suddenly heard a shout from outside the building.

"Burn the Heretic!"

"Death to the Heresy!"

"Purge the filth and send it to hell."

Fear and excitement were fused in that strange language.

Connor, for a minute, got distracted as he thought to himself.

Heretic? Is it one of those worlds where superstitions and prejudice still rule rampant?

As a man who has seen countless worlds and numerous cultures, Connor could be seen as a collective visionary who has bore witness to all the cons of human nature. Injustice stemming from superstition was one such nature.

But his thought was suddenly cut off when the brown door of the room slowly creaked open. At that moment, Connor's thoughts raced as he realized the state of his clothes. He didn't panic nonetheless. He was no newbie, he had done this whole routine a hundred times.

immediately, he took off his shirt and wrapped it around his hand to wipe the blood. After which, he tossed the clothes into one of the open cupboards alongside the scalpel and slammed it shut.

Luckily, the blood had not stained the ground and as for the burned chairs and disheveled utensils, he could always play the comedic card and say he was playing around. It was an optimal suggestion.

"Keifer?" The brown door opened fully. Revealing a 1.8-meter-tall woman dressed in a gothic black wrap dress with a bonnet that cascaded down a netted veil, covering her face.

But even that could not hide her ethereal beauty.

With a narrow jawline and enhanced sharp piercing blue eyes, the unknown lady casually walked into the room with her black platform heels, making clicking sounds with each step. But despite her entrancing visage, she gave off an innocent and sacred temperance, like a lovely flower incorruptible by anything. She had a petite frame that her heels were perhaps used to hide.

Connor stared at the lady for a moment before digesting the information she unknowingly gave.

So my name is Keifer now? I wonder how many names that make now? My own true name has long been lost. He thought while maintaining an unreadable expression.

He instinctively understood the spoken language, which to him was extremely mundane when compared to some of the things he had been born with in his other lives.

The Girl glanced at him and curved up a smile saying, "Aren't you going to see the heretic?"

The girl asked, not surprised by the unseen act of his lack of clothes.

So I like seeing the heretics? Noted.

"I heard they caught the heretic that was worshipping the devil in the backwaters areas.

Honestly, I didn't think the CPP was even interested in matters going on there...

"And worse now that a heretic has been found, it means that Belle Rose is closed for visitations which also means I can't check on Theo. And apart from that, weren't you at the backwater areas last week? Supposedly, it was then that the heretic first started making sacrifices. Oh, and you should really put on some clothes. I know we know each other but doesn't your belief in the lord of crafts prohibit showing your bare body to a woman you aren't wedded to?"

Grasping the details in her words, Connor improvised with his next words, "Oh, sorry I didn't think you would be coming."

Not saying anything for a few seconds, the lady looked around the room for a moment before saying, "I know being fired is painful, but no point trashing your kitchen. You don't even know how to feed yourself let alone repair any destruction to this place."

"Sorry, I just got carried away," Connor spoke shyly.

"Alright alright, but you should know that I already found a job for you. It's nothing grand or anything. Just to be a clerk for a private detective. I bet you've heard of him. His the famous Allan Pinkerton!"

"What?!" Conor exclaimed with fake enthusiasm.

"Yes, I found him by chance in Belle Rose the other day, I think he said he was investigating the source of the recent rumors in Lower Canen. You know the rumors of the hermit or something."

Connor did not say anything but simply nodded.

The lady continued on, "Although I don't understand what a detective like him will be doing investigating rumors. I talked to him for a while and when I proposed you and how you home-schooled yourself in everything including the language of ancient Thorin. He jumped at the opportunity to hire you. He says you should come meet him tomorrow, oh and I'm coming too. And if I'm not coming, no way I'm telling you where."

Conor smiled and lowered his head for a moment before exclaiming joyfully, "Of course, you can come, tomorrow is the day."

The lady exhaled and said, "That's good, and I should get going, even if a heretic is getting burnt, I can't miss out on work. But for my sake, I don't get why you canese enjoy watching others burn." The lady turned around and walked towards the door before adding.

"You should dress up and come downstairs for the burning. You know these things don't take time before they end."

Connor stared in silence before saying in a low voice, "Alright, just wait for me. I'm coming down soon."

From his primary analysis of the lady's mannerisms, he grasped she was someone who took care of him. Her firm steps suggested that she had a certain free rain in this apartment.

Which meant she either owned it or frequently visited it so often that it was like a second home.

And even if that wasn't the case. By the way, she asked him to go to the heretic burning. It came with a firm tone, a tone that seemed familiar with commanding him. This gave Connor two possible scenarios; She was either related to him like an elder sister or a cousin, or she was a friend.

Although a girlfriend was a possibility, considering she told him to wear his clothes and regarded it as something only an intimate person should see, it meant she was likely not in that category.

The lady smiled at him and left the room.

He still did not catch her name.

Watching her leave, Connor looked at the scattered kitchen muttering to himself, I have to clean this up, and also it seems I will be meeting with a detective.

Connor In truth did not want to leave the room. He was angered as it is by coming into another world, but upon hearing that a heretic was in a place where 'Keifer' was. And accompanied by the unusual state of the room. He believed these two factors were not as unrelated as they appeared.