At that moment, fragments of information flowed into his brain.
He felt his soul, his personality, colliding with Virgil’s.
"..."
The memories of his life as Virgil didn’t feel like an illusion.
They felt real.
Too real.
He experienced every emotion and every bit of pain firsthand.
Joy.
Sadness.
Anger.
Loneliness.
It all hit him at once.
He grabbed the edge of the desk as memories surfaced.
Virgil had lived a privileged lifestyle as the youngest son of the Visconti family.
From a young age, he had managed to awaken some of the rarest affinities.
He was even appointed a mentor to teach him how to control them.
They called him a prodigy, and he loved hearing that.
His life was perfect.
But then it suddenly took a downward turn.
He watched his mentor die right in front of him.
His growth began to stagnate.
And then, his brother awakened.
The people who thought he would achieve unattainable heights quickly began surpassing him.
His father’s eyes that were once filled with pride turned into disappointment with every passing day.
Virgil didn’t want that, so he trained until his body cried in agony.
He meditated for hours every day.
He got new tutors to try to fix his stagnating growth.
But none of that worked. His condition only worsened.
He lost control of his affinities altogether.
And his twin brother began awakening even more affinities.
All the attention switched from him to his brother.
At first, he thought it was a good thing.
But they hadn’t stopped criticizing him because they had forgiven him.
They had simply stopped caring.
Stopped expecting anything from him.
That was the final straw.
He stopped trying.
Stopped trying to impress people.
Stopped trying to become the person everyone once believed he could be.
Because they had given up on him.
And it was only fair that he gave up on himself as well.
He no longer imagined himself standing at the top.
He didn’t even care about his father’s approval anymore.
He had given up.
He became depressed.
People began describing him as suicidal, treating him like a fragile object that would break at the mention of past glory.
But he wasn’t suicidal.
He didn’t want to die.
He simply didn’t care if he lived.
He had no ambitions left.
He was just existing.
"..."
He took a deep breath as the emotions settled, wiping the tears that rolled down his cheek.
They weren’t his tears.
They were Virgil’s.
The original Virgil.
That was what he told himself.
"Haa..."
He exhaled slowly.
He needed some time to think.
*****
Virgil lay submerged up to his neck in the cold water of the bathtub.
The cold seeped into his bones, bringing a strange sense of comfort.
He had spent a considerable amount of time trying to adjust to his situation. It wasn’t working very well.
He raised his hand out of the water towards the ceiling, watching as the water droplets raced down his arm and back into the bath.
He had spent the last few hours planning his next course of action.
How was he going to survive?
He had some knowledge of the novel but it wasn’t nearly enough.
He had only read part of it, and even then that knowledge was unreliable.
There was no guarantee that the events he remembered would happen exactly as he remembered them.
One thing, however, was certain.
This world was dangerous.
People could use magic.
Monsters existed.
World-eaters existed.
And somewhere out there were people strong enough to kill him without even trying.
Running away was impossible.
His plan to kill his brother and frame it as an accident had already gone through.
It was only a matter of time before he found out and came for revenge.
Besides...
"What’s the point of being in a fantasy world if I can’t even use magic?"
He let out a quiet breath and pushed himself out of the bathtub.
Water streamed down his body as he grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist.
He walked towards the mirror.
The face looking back at him still felt strange.
Snow-white hair fell messily over his shoulders, damp strands clinging to his skin. He was tall, with piercing icy-blue eyes and a well-toned body without being overly muscular.
"Handsome bastard... Oh, that’s me."
He had seen plenty of handsome people, but this was just ridiculous.
His features were delicate without looking feminine, his jawline was sharp, and his fair skin was practically flawless.
According to his memories, there was a tattoo on his back.
He twisted his body slightly and looked over his shoulder.
A peacock with the head of a dog and the claws of a lion.
"What the hell was he thinking?"
He stared at it.
It wasn’t necessarily ugly.
It was just... strange.
He shook his head and left the bathroom.
Virgil dropped the towel on the bed before walking to his wardrobe.
He picked out a black vest, a high-collared shirt, black trousers and a blue trench coat, stopping when something caught his attention.
He went over and picked it up.
A chain.
It was thin and silver, with a small droplet-shaped crystal hanging from its center.
The moment his finger touched it, a strange sensation ran through his body.
’This.’
The sight of it made his chest tighten.
’If I want to survive, I have to use ’this’.’
The chain was the only option he had.
It was a gamble.
It would probably take his life.
But.
He had no choice.
It was either that or suffer the same fate as the original Virgil.
There were no glowing runes, no elaborate engravings, or anything that suggested that it was more than a piece of jewelry.
Despite its mundane appearance, it was an heirloom of the Visconti family, an artifact passed down through generations.
The most talented members of the family were given the privilege of possessing it.
Virgil had received it when he was five, back when he was the most talented individual to come out of the clan.
It was one of the strongest artifacts in the family’s possession. It was possibly one of the most powerful artifacts in the entire novel.
There was only one problem.
Its price.
Using the artifact required a sacrifice.
The family had always treated the artifact with reverence.
They had taught him how to activate it.
They had also taught him the price.
His soul.
That was all he needed to know.
With a sigh, he dropped the artifact back on the table.
’I’m gambling with my new life too.’
He had hoped that it wouldn’t come to this, but that hope felt foolish now.
He didn’t have any other options.
His affinities were locked.
His growth had stagnated.
There was no safe way out of this.
He quickly changed into his new clothes.
His gaze landed on the chain resting on the table.
Once again, he felt a strange sensation when he picked it up.
He couldn’t recall anything like this happening in the original Virgil’s memories.
’Perhaps, it knows what I’m about to do next.’
He stared at the chain for a few seconds, before stuffing it into the pockets of his coat.
’Doesn’t matter.’
Whether it knew what he was about to do didn’t matter. What mattered was the result.
He reached the door, his hand resting on the doorknob as a wave of unease washed over him.
He knew what he was about to do could kill him.
He had no idea what waited beyond the door.
He didn’t know whether the artifact would save him.
He didn’t know whether the future could even be changed.
But what choice did he have?
There was no safe way out.
He couldn’t rely on his affinities.
And he wasn’t going to sit around and wait for his brother to kill him.
Of course he had to risk it.
His grip tightened around the doorknob.
"Ah, fuck it."