Upon entering the building, a wave of hot breeze and smoke hit me, and the room was filled with an intense heat. Two figures sat in the corner, drinking something from the cups, their features obscured by the smoke. I struggled to see through the haze until I noticed a silhouette of a desk in the front. Moving toward it, I discovered a small bell with a sign that read "Ring for service." I pressed the button on top, and it chimed.

Suddenly, a man materialized from the smoke, his face concealed by a hat. "Hello, how may I service you?" he greeted. Stunned for a moment, I tried to compose myself. After an awkward silence, I pulled out my card, the only thing on my mind at the moment. The man took the card, examining it. "Oh, a new Nightshade," he remarked, then turned around to retrieve a massive book.

Flipping through the oversized pages, he scanned the contents. Minutes felt like hours as he commented, "I have no record of you, but it doesn't seem to be a fake—strange." Attempting to tear the card proved futile, even after dousing it with water. "This is not a fake," he concluded, proceeding to jot down information in the large book, presumably records of Nightshades. After a moment of writing, he produced a bunch of keys. "Hmmm, this one," he mumbled, handing me a key. "Go upstairs, find the room number; it'll be yours from now on. If you're seeking employment, nothing's available at the moment. Come in the morning to discuss."

I nodded, accepting the key, and turned to see a staircase leading upstairs to explore my new abode.

Slowly ascending the creaking stairs, I reached a level where the air was clear of the smoke that lingered downstairs. The walls, adorned with faded wallpaper, revealed traces of the building's antiquity. The musty scent of old wood and aged paper filled the air, creating an atmosphere of forgotten history.

Glancing at the key in my hand, marked "10," I sought out room number ten. The narrow hallway, dimly lit by flickering wall sconces, seemed to echo with the whispers of time. The door to my chosen room stood stoically, a silent witness to countless occupants over the years. Turning the key in the lock, the door creaked open, revealing a modest space.

The room was a tapestry of shadows and dim light. A single bed, adorned with worn linens, occupied one corner near the window. A moth-eaten couch faced it, weathered by years of use. A small table with a half-burnt candle provided a feeble glow, casting dancing shadows on the peeling wallpaper. A door at the far end hinted at the presence of a bathroom, its hinges groaning faintly.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Stepping into the dimly lit room, illuminated by the dwindling candle, I urgently searched for another light source. Discovering a pack beneath the bed, I replaced the nearly exhausted candle with a fresh one, igniting it with the lingering flame. The new candle's flame cast a warm glow, revealing the worn wooden floor and the modest furnishings that held the history of countless occupants.

As the room brightened, I took off my coat, hat, and gloves. Removing my hat, I was shocked to feel hair cascading down my neck. It was golden—a stark contrast to my known black hair. Disturbed, I shook my head, confirming that the hair was real and connected to me. Puzzled, I contemplated the profound changes that had occurred in mere moments. How had I traversed into this world through the crack in reality, and why was my hair now a shade of blond?

After a moment of idle contemplation on the bed, I decided to break the cycle of fruitless pondering. There was no use dwelling on my situation without tangible evidence. With each cautious step, I made my way toward the bathroom door. As I pushed it open, a darkness enveloped the room. I retraced my steps to retrieve a candle, its flickering flame casting dancing shadows on the unfamiliar surroundings.

Upon entering the bathroom, an unexpected sight greeted me. A hole in the floor, accompanied by a bucket of water, served as the primitive amenities. My attention then shifted to a mirror that stood before me. As I beheld my transformed reflection, the shock set in—I now possessed blond hair and piercing blue eyes. The muscular physique I once knew had given way to a lean build. I couldn't help but yearn for the familiar contours of my Earthly form.

Completing the necessary routine, a pang of homesickness overcame me. I tossed myself onto the bed, extinguishing the flame. Staring into the mirror, an overwhelming sense of displacement washed over me. Unbidden tears traced a path down my cheek as I grappled with the profound desire to return to Earth.

The memory of my mother flooded my thoughts. Since my father's passing, she has been my unwavering support through thick and thin. Now, I found myself unable to reciprocate the kindness she had shown me. The weight of the realization hit me, and more tears rolled down my cheeks, wetting the bed beneath me. The yearning to return to Earth and fulfill my responsibilities tugged at the very core