A blanket of darkness envelops her, a thick shroud of nothingness that seems to stretch on indefinitely. Every sound was swallowed by the void, leaving her surrounded by an eerie, palpable silence.
But even with the absence of light, she could sense the subtle differences in the air, the faint shift in temperature, and the texture that indicated her unusual surroundings. It felt as though she was adrift in some mysterious expanse, suspended in a void where time and space held no sway. Just as she was on the brink of surrendering to the languid pull of slumber, she jolted awake, the sensation of being completely weightless abruptly giving way to the unwelcome awareness, of someone who was alive.
The young woman’s mind was filled to the brim. Inside was a whirlwind of conflicted thoughts that brought bitter feelings and an unexpected ache in her chest. She takes deep breaths, trying to regain her composure as she glances around the small room, finally becoming aware of her surroundings. In an unwelcoming environment, the lady finds herself lying on top of an open book, its pages gently settling on an old, weathered, wooden table.
She perused the document and in it was written information that seemed beyond her comprehension. “Mana,” “Powers,” and “Channelling”. All words that left her even more puzzled than before, as these terms typically belonged to fantasy literature—something a fantasy author conjures up for their make-believe world. The young woman thought it wouldn’t be at all surprising if she was in a lucid state of dreaming.
The room she found herself in was dimly lit, with only a faint glow fluttering in through the window. Despite the low light, she could still make out the details around her; the partially burned-out candle perched precariously on the windowsill and the paragraphs written in the book below her.
Feeling a sudden surge of anxiety, the woman closes the journal she had skimmed through and casts a second glance around the small space. What met her eyes wasn't a beautiful sight; a disarray of bookshelves filled with haphazardly arranged books, and papers scattered across the floor. It was clear that the room had not been tended to in quite some time, nothing was in its place, as though someone had torn through the area in a frantic search of something valuable.
The woman lets out an exasperated laugh as if there was anything of value in a dusty old room like this. Though, she didn't want to just sit there and assume such reasons. After all, knowledge is power; and it holds superiority above everything in a world like this.
So she stood up from the wooden chair she sat on and made an effort to survey the room for any clues. She needed signs that could pinpoint a location—any signs that could tell her where she was. As she continued her search, a blast of chilly, unforgiving wind rushed through the window, forcefully flinging open the shutters and causing the once upright candle to tumble.
She quickly made her way to the window. Seizing the rolling candelabra, she tried to put it back in its original position, but at that moment, she caught a glimpse of the outside world.
The sun was setting just like it did during that one fateful phone call. The sounds of people mingling on the streets echoed just like the chaotic night she experienced only moments ago and as she stared out the window, a shiver ran down her spine, not because of the chill of the night, but rather the eerie sight unfolding before her.
On the streets below were Victorian-styled apartments and cottages that sat upon brick streets, floating objects carried by men riding on horses, and foreign attire the local residents wore. It was a crowded space that wasn’t at all like Seoul.
The unfamiliar scenery outside of the messy room she was standing in made her painfully aware that everything changed, just like that, without her knowing. Realising all this her eyes shift to her own body. The woman was frightened by what she saw — a tattered cloak, and concealed beneath it a delicate cotton dress supported with a rich, brown leather corset. She didn't wear this last night, and she most definitely did not look like this.
Speaking of looks, she glances forward once again, to see her faint reflection in the greasy mirror. Hazel locks fell upon an unfamiliar face, and fresh green eyes looked back. As she studied her reflection, the woman noticed the red puffiness beneath her eyes and the smudged makeup right below them as dry tear-stained lines flew down on her lightly applied foundation.
Words failed to escape her mouth, not that she needed them here, alone, in an empty room. Was she crying? She didn’t recall ever crying. Perhaps it had happened without her knowing, in the heat of the moment, when the truck threatened to collide with her. Yet, the unbearable pain she had felt at that exact moment had caused her to black out before it did. Now, standing alone in this cold empty room, she was left uncertain of whether tears had actually escaped her eyes.
Chaos ran rampant through her thoughts. Everything she had known seemed to have disappeared and was replaced by this strange, unfamiliar world. Memories of her son, her friends, and their joyful adventure prior to this all came flooding back—at an overwhelming pace—and as she looked around, yet again, trying to find some answer to all this, nothing came to mind.
She couldn't shake the feeling that they were all now out of reach, lost to whatever higher being brought her here. As she felt the reality sinking in, the young woman vividly remembered everything that had transpired. The bustling street, the lively karaoke pub, the rumble of the truck, and the anguished cries of her friends; but amidst all of these memories, one crucial detail eluded her — her own name.
Frustration and confusion consumed her as she sank to the ground, her hands tightly clutching the weathered window sill. She couldn’t help but wonder if her past reality was all just a dream, a cruel distortion of her real life, which is this. But even if it were, why does she have no memory of it? How could she have no recollection of the life she apparently led, here, in this new world?
No, she shakes her head. This wasn’t her normal: her home, her son, and Seoul were far too real to be a dream, but all these connecting dots led to one thing. That she did die, she died on those streets and is now occupying an entirely different existence in a place far away from the old modern world. The woman had reincarnated. At first, it was hard to believe, but until she could find a more reasonable answer, it was settled that transmigration was real and that her being in a different body was too.
Answering one lingering question provided some relief, but it also sparked a cascade of new inquiries. She felt an urgent need to understand everything about her current situation – her inexplicable presence in this unknown body, the peculiar outside world and the identity of the person she now possessed. As she sank wearily into the chair, a sudden crimson glow illuminated the table, capturing her attention.
The woman looks back to the window and stares at the vast horizon where mountains were nestled, and where even more foreign architecture lies. She watches the crimson sun slowly sinking in the distance, its dark light starting to fade as it becomes obscured by heavy, looming clouds.
With a deep gulp, the nervous lady turns her attention to the candle on her right, the one that had been robbed of its fire—the candle that had fallen over just minutes ago. Picking it up, she inspects the finely crafted piece, and to her surprise, discovers foreign writing etched onto its surface, a mysterious language that somehow she finds herself able to understand: “Sibaerris”
A name? Or a place, perhaps. The frustrated lady had no idea, as she stood amid a room packed with hundreds of books that could help her finally answer one question.
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Yet she knew she had to search through them to uncover some hint, some answer to the hundreds of questions she had in her head. Loud voices erupted from outside the door, startled, her eyes darted towards the source, fearing someone would burst into the room, but as yelling continued no one entered.
Relief washed over her like a gentle breeze, her thought immediately returned to investigating the dimly lit room. The woman moved swiftly and purposefully, carefully scouting every inch of the area, making sure no book went unturned. With determined focus, she meticulously flipped through pages upon pages and picked up scraps of the scattered papers that were strewn across the floor. Although the pages didn’t yield exactly what she was searching for, they all contained intriguing references to an unfamiliar concept known as “mana”.
As she glanced over the peculiar text, it struck her as odd and raised more questions. Why was she drawn to researching mana? Could it be related to the reason behind why she found herself unconscious on a table, sprawled atop a book that was also centre do around the magical arts?
Despite the multitude of questions flooding her mind, solutions remained elusive within the confines of the small space. Frustrated, she massaged her temples, grappling with the events that had transpired and those that were currently unfolding. Adding to her bewilderment was the realisation that magic evidently existed in this place—it dawned on her that she must have been reincarnated into a realm steeped in fantasy.
. . .
She kept looking, looking everywhere, flipping every page but found nothing at all. There was nothing important enough for her to identify where she was, and even then, the woman didn’t know what exactly she was looking for.
The words mana, magic and wielders popped up often in the resources she had read, but none of them had relayed any important information. As time went on, all of this reading made her feel disoriented and unsure of what exactly she was searching for now. Yet reading through the information available to her, she came across references to different locations and historical events which all strangely highlighted these creatures known as Daemons.
Daemons sparked deja vu in the young woman's mind, the sound of it being eerily familiar. Rooted from what she thinks is from the modern world name, demon, the possibility of them also being evil, underworld creatures from all these references in the books are almost a hundred percent. Although she felt a sense of familiarity, she couldn't quite pinpoint the significance of the word to her.
The woman couldn't help but laugh at herself as she marvelled at the sheer number of magic books she had come across. She was determined not to waste a single second on a question that was of lesser importance and had just dove back into reading everything that was more useful. Skimming through the words written on each book she sought, she repeated the process until a few minutes had passed.
Feeling overwhelmed, she groaned and looked up, hoping to clear her head and take a break from all the new and strange vocabulary. That's when her eyes caught a glimpse of a glint of gold on the highest shelf of one of the bookcases - a tethered gold-bound book, standing out amongst the other journals.
Her eyes glimmered, thinking she hit the jackpot, so she got up and grabbed the book. Luckily for her, it seemed like the young woman attained a body with a very similar height to her past one. As her fingers made contact with the journal, she realised it was heavier than she expected. In her haste, the book almost slipped from her grasp, but she managed to catch it with both of her hands just in time.
Once she did, a small piece of paper fluttered out from between the pages, but she paid no attention to it. All she cared about at that moment was uncovering the secrets within the mysterious gold book.
Brushing off the layer of dust coating the cover, her eyes narrowed in annoyance. It was another magic book, but this one was no ordinary journal, it was easily distinguishable from the rest. This one bore an intricate engraving on the bottom right corner of the cover. The woman didn’t think much of the symbol so she added it to the growing stack of seemingly pointless volumes and knelt down once more.
Just as she was about to turn away, the piece of paper that had fallen from it caught her eye. With nothing to lose, she reached for it and carefully examined the contents.
Her eyes lit up with excitement, as she thought she might have stumbled upon something truly helpful. Suddenly, a piercing scream shattered the stillness, overshadowing even the clamour she had been hearing on the other side. The woman’s heart raced as she turned towards the door, this time not expecting an unwanted visitor but rather wondering what in the world was happening out there. More yelling could be heard and small conversations could be deduced, with a mix of anxiety and determination, the woman steeled herself to step outside and uncover the source of the tumult.
Standing over the doorknob she reaches out and twists it slowly. Her unadjusted eyes reflexively closed as the grand lights poured onto her face, revealing a magnificent chandelier that hung from the very centre of what looked like an enormous library—which was ten times larger than the one she had seen in the hotel.
Its illuminating bright light filled the entire space from ground level to the fourth floor—to what seemed like the highest you could go.
To her left, she noticed a small group of people standing near the edge, their faces turned downwards towards the commotion completely oblivious to her presence. Observing them closely, she couldn’t help but notice that they were dressed in the same attire as she was. Yet, she didn’t have much time to dwell on it as the sound of even more howls filled the air, growing louder by the second.
Following the gaze of the individuals, she tried to find the culprits of the disturbance and saw two figures in the distance. Getting a clearer view once her eyes adjusted the light, she spotted a drunk nobleman and a distraught, dramatic noblewoman engaged in a heated argument. It struck her as peculiar that despite the disturbance they were causing, they had not been asked to leave. After all, this was a library, and one would expect disruptive individuals such as them to be promptly escorted out.
Hurriedly walking down the stairs, she heard another cry, but this time it was more desperate. The worried lady pauses once she catches sight of the drunk man about to hit the woman. Rage filled her stomach she realised that both her feet were walking over to where the two individuals were ready to strike back if anything were to happen when someone grabbed her forearm.
“Lady Adelaine! What are you doing!” a soft and young voice whispers behind her. She swiftly looked back to see who had grabbed her, and was met with a confused look from a young boy; a small freckled brunet, with yet another outfit similar to her own. His appeared to be more sophisticated and more detailed than the one she was currently wearing.
Shocked at the contact and a name she couldn’t quite put a finger on, she stops her angry march towards the nobles. When she looks back at the woman who had already been hit across the face by the noble, she grits her teeth, thinking up a new solution.
Just as she was about to demand him to let go, she felt the smaller hands tremble on her skin. Taking a swift breath to calm herself down, the tall woman whispers back, “So you’re suggesting we leave him be? As he strikes a woman?”
The brunet looked at her with shock, “What are you saying!” he frets, “That’s Viscount and Viscountess Clayfield. It’s normal for them to fight, even more so in their own library!”
“Their library? This is their library?” her mouth gapes.
“Have you been hit on the head, my lady? You know more than anyone here as to why they’re fighting!”
The tall woman found herself increasingly bewildered as she struggled to comprehend the boy's words. These three strangers were unfamiliar to her, and she had no recollection of ever meeting them before. However, amidst the myriad of unsettling aspects of the situation, their identities seemed to be the least of her concerns.
“I’m sorry, my memory is groggy,” she says, trying to not act suspicious.
“...you jest.” he laughs nervously.
She looks at the freckled boy with a small smile, not saying anything. In all honesty, it was because she didn’t know what to say.
“You’re acting weird my lady. Is there something going on with you and your father? Even when you came in this morning, you looked more pale and worn out than usual.” he narrows his eyes, “But…that doesn’t explain how you miraculously have little to no memory of the Viscount and Viscountess.”
Her eyes widen as she looks at the smaller individual. For one with a frail figure and a soft face, he was incredibly cunning—or concluded that she was just a really bad actor and an even worse liar. To think she could get found out so easily was fairly embarrassing, and being conscious of this, her cheeks grew red.
Looking at him as the silence of the atmosphere intensifies, another howl comes from the nobleman, ready to take a second hit. She knew this wasn’t the modern world, she knew how mistreated the women were even then. She knew, so she needed to stand up for her. She shook off his grip with ease and started marching towards the couple. The boy looked at her with a desperate expression,
Looking back at him, she winces, “I’m sorry. I’ll–I’ll tell you everything after this, alright?”
“Tell me everything?” he stood still as the tall woman ran towards the couple, “Tell me what–Lady Adelaine!?”
As she sprinted toward them, she realised that the distance between her and the two figures was greater than she had anticipated. The gruelling run to reach the entrance felt never-ending, as she saw the man about to go for the hit as his fist drew threateningly close to the crying woman's face—and yet within the tense situation, only one thought raced through her mind at that critical moment.
It was that Adelaine was her name.