"Thank goodness you're awake, my lord."
A woman's voice came from the right side of the bed. Reka was still struggling with the pain in his neck, his breathing uneven and his vision not yet fully clear, when the woman spoke again. This time, her words came much faster, with unmistakable panic trembling through her voice.
"If you hadn't woken up, I would have lost my job. Please forgive me, my lord. I truly am sorry. I know I was out of line for entering your room and waking you without permission. I'll do anything, so please don't be angry with me."
Every word left her lips with a tremor, and her breathing broke several times between sentences, as though she could barely keep herself from crying long enough to finish. Only then did Reka realize that someone else was inside the room.
Without moving his aching neck, he shifted his eyes toward the right side of the bed and saw a young woman standing beside him. Her long black hair had been braided and tied into a ponytail, while the black-and-white maid uniform covering her body looked as though it had been taken directly from some royal period film. Her clothing, however, was not what caught Reka's attention.
Her left cheek was red and slightly swollen, and a thin cut marked the corner of her lips. Both of her hands were wrapped in bandages, although several exposed fingers still trembled over the apron she gripped tightly. The woman looked utterly exhausted, with swollen eyes and traces of tears still clinging to her eyelashes. For several seconds, Reka completely forgot about the pain in his own body.
"Uh, miss? Who are you?" Reka asked.
The woman lifted her face slightly and looked at him. "I'm sorry, my lord. What do you mean?"
Their eyes met for barely two seconds, but apparently even that brief moment was already a grave mistake in the woman's eyes. Her eyes widened before she immediately lowered her head until her chin nearly touched her chest.
"Please forgive me, Lord Zeldryn. I didn't mean to look you in the eyes. I sincerely apologize," the woman said.
Her body began trembling even harder, and she took half a step backward, almost as though she were preparing herself to be slapped. Reka frowned as he watched her reaction.
'What the hell is wrong with her?' Reka thought.
He had only asked who she was, yet she was behaving as though she had committed some horrible crime. Then there was the strange name she kept using whenever she addressed him.
Zeldryn.
'Who the hell is Zeldryn?' Reka wondered.
"Wait a second, miss. I think you've got the wrong person. My name is Re..."
Reka tried to sit up, but the moment his back lifted even slightly from the mattress, the pain that had been concentrated around his neck suddenly spread throughout his entire body. It felt as though every bone inside him was being pulled in a different direction. The muscles in his arms and legs tensed at once, while his head throbbed with such violence that his vision immediately turned white.
"ARRRGGHH!" Reka screamed as he collapsed back onto the pillow.
The woman flinched at his scream. Instead of approaching him, however, she stepped backward and raised both hands in front of her face as if trying to protect herself.
"Please forgive me! Please don't be angry, my lord!" she cried.
Reka could barely hear her anymore. Something was forcing its way into his head, but it was neither a voice nor ordinary pain.
They were memories.
Someone else's memories began flooding into his mind without order or warning. In one, a glass filled with red liquor was hurled against a wall while a servant knelt on the floor and begged for mercy. The laughter of a young boy echoed through a room littered with empty bottles.
Another memory appeared almost immediately afterward, showing a village child being forced to surrender his belongings simply because he had supposedly failed to show enough respect. Then came the image of a brothel opening its doors in the middle of the night, with a black-haired boy walking inside wearing an arrogant smile despite being nowhere near old enough to enter such a place.
Among those memories was also the image of a woman standing beside a bed and crying. Her black hair was braided, and both of her hands trembled in front of her.
She was the same woman now standing beside Reka.
The memories appeared and disappeared almost instantly, giving him barely enough time to understand what he was seeing before another image replaced the last. Reka did not recognize most of the faces that appeared, yet he could clearly feel the arrogance belonging to the person who owned those memories. There was an unwavering belief that everyone around him stood beneath him, along with an absolute certainty that being born into a noble family justified anything he chose to do.
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Then, amid the flood of memories, a name appeared in Reka's mind with perfect clarity.
Zeldryn Giorry.
Zeldryn was the twelve-year-old son of the noble Giorry family, and despite his young age, he had already earned a terrible reputation. He was known as a troublemaker, an underage drunk, and a pervert who took pleasure in bullying those weaker than himself while constantly flaunting his family's authority. The servants hated him, the nearby residents feared him, and even members of his own family regarded him as worthless trash who brought nothing but shame to the Giorry name.
"Hah... hah..."
Reka lay on the bed gasping for air while cold sweat ran down the sides of his face. Those memories did not belong to him. He was completely certain of that, yet they felt far too vivid and real to be dismissed as nothing more than a dream.
Amid the chaos inside his head, Reka's own memories slowly began to resurface. He remembered the 5,296-chapter novel he had spent nearly three months reading.
Life Really Is Happy, Right?
Reka could still remember its world clearly enough. Kingdoms were constantly at war with one another, nobles fought endlessly over power, mana users possessed enough strength to tear entire armies apart, and the protagonist continued gaining new enemies as his own strength increased.
Among the hundreds of noble houses mentioned throughout the novel, there had been one family called Giorry. The Giorry family held the rank of marquis, but they had never been particularly important to the story. They had appeared only briefly during one section of the novel, when the head of the family became one of the protagonist's enemies and was eventually defeated. After that, the Giorry family simply disappeared from the story. There had been no explanation of what happened to them afterward, and none of their family members ever appeared again.
Even after reading all the way to the final chapter, Reka had never once encountered the name Zeldryn Giorry.
He stared at the luxurious ceiling above him while his breathing remained unsteady. If this truly was the world of that novel, then he had not become the protagonist. He had not even become some minor character who had briefly appeared in the story. Instead, Reka had entered the body of someone whose existence had never been important enough to mention.
"I became a character who never even appeared in the novel?" Reka muttered.
He pressed his fingers against his temple while trying to process everything that had just been forced into his head.
"What the hell is this? Maybe I could've accepted it if I became the protagonist. At least I'd know the path his life was supposed to take, who his enemies were, where the treasures were hidden, and what I needed to do to stay alive," Reka said. He clenched his teeth in frustration before continuing. "But this? I became some bastard whose name wasn't even mentioned?"
The more Reka thought about the situation, the more one possibility began to make sense. Unfortunately, it was also the possibility he had been trying hardest to avoid. He remembered the strange question waiting at the end of the novel, the insults he had thrown at the author, and the curses he had screamed at God only moments before the floor of his rented room collapsed.
'Don't tell me this happened because I insulted God last night,' Reka thought.
He ground his teeth before glaring upward.
"If that's really the reason, then fuck you, God! You shoved me into the body of someone whose future I don't even know. At least give me a damn clue, you bastard!" Reka shouted.
He wanted to continue cursing, but the sound of trembling breaths beside the bed made him stop. Reka carefully turned his head toward the woman. She was still standing in the same place with her head lowered, both hands gripping her apron so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. Her shoulders occasionally twitched, yet she was desperately trying to prevent her sobs from making any sound.
A name surfaced from the fragments of Zeldryn's memories.
Hera.
She was the personal maid who had served this body for years. Along with her name came several more memories. Reka saw Zeldryn shouting insults at her, followed by the image of a small hand striking Hera across the face. Another memory showed her kneeling on the floor and apologizing, even though Reka had no idea what she had supposedly done wrong.
Reka looked at Hera's swollen cheek and bandaged hands, and his chest tightened at the sight.
"What a fucking bastard," Reka muttered quietly enough that Hera could not hear him.
He felt disgusted by the former owner of this body. However, this was not the right time to reveal that something about Zeldryn had changed. Reka often hesitated whenever he had to make an important decision, but once he found himself trapped inside a difficult situation, he was capable of adapting quickly enough.
If he suddenly began treating everyone kindly, claimed that his name was Reka, and started asking questions about things Zeldryn should already know, people would naturally become suspicious. He did not know whether this place was safe, nor did he know who he could trust. For now, the most reasonable option was to continue playing the role of Zeldryn until he had enough time to understand his situation and think carefully about what he should do next.
Reka slowly drew in a breath before changing his expression. He raised his chin and glared at Hera as sharply as he could.
"Hoh? A lowly maid dares enter my room without permission? Do you want me to kill you where you stand? Get out right now, you lowly wretch!" Reka shouted.
His raised voice immediately made Hera flinch, and whatever little color remained in her face disappeared. She hurriedly bowed, lowering herself so deeply that her long hair fell over her shoulders.
"Please forgive me, my lord! I sincerely apologize. I will leave immediately!" Hera said.
She stepped backward several times before finally turning toward the door, moving so quickly that she nearly tripped over the hem of her own uniform. However, when the time came to close the door, her movements became extremely slow. Hera held the handle with both hands and carefully guided the door shut, making sure it did not produce even the slightest loud sound. A quiet click followed as the door closed.
Reka waited several seconds to make sure Hera was truly gone. Once he could no longer hear her footsteps outside the room, his entire body finally went limp against the mattress.
"Whew. Finally, I'm alone," Reka said.
He stared at the ceiling while slowly steadying his breathing.
"Okay. Time to think and come up with a plan for my future."