Lord of the Mysteries - Chapter 1: Crimson

Chapter 1: Crimson

Pain!

So much pain!

My head hurts so much!

The bizarre, whispering dream shattered rapidly. Zhou Mingrui, deep in sleep, felt an excruciating, throbbing pain in his head, as if he had been struck hard with a club. No, it was more like a sharp object had been driven into his temple and twisted!

Hiss... In his dazed state, Zhou Mingrui wanted to turn over, to clutch his head, to sit up, but he couldn't move his limbs at all. His body seemed to have lost all control.

It seems I haven't truly woken up yet; I'm still in a dream... In a moment, I might even think I've woken up, but still be asleep... Not unfamiliar with such experiences, Zhou Mingrui desperately tried to focus his will to completely break free from the shackles of darkness and illusion.

However, in that half-asleep, half-awake state, the will is always as elusive as smoke, difficult to control, difficult to gather. No matter how hard he tried, his thoughts still scattered, and distracting notions surfaced.

Perfectly fine, in the middle of the night, why would I suddenly get a headache?

And such a severe one!

Could it be a cerebral hemorrhage or something?

Damn, am I going to die young just like this?

Wake up! Wake up quickly!

Huh? It seems it doesn't hurt as much as before? But it still feels like there's a blunt knife slowly sawing in my brain...

Looks like I can't go back to sleep. How am I supposed to work tomorrow?

What work? With a genuine headache like this, of course I'll take a sick day! No need to fear the manager's nagging!

Thinking about it that way, it doesn't seem so bad, heh heh, stealing a bit of leisure from a busy life!

Wave after wave of throbbing pain allowed Zhou Mingrui to accumulate illusory strength bit by bit. Finally, with one concerted effort, he straightened his back, opened his eyes, and completely shook off the half-asleep state.

His vision was blurry at first, then tinged with a faint crimson. Within his line of sight, Zhou Mingrui saw a desk of natural wood color in front of him. In the center lay an open notebook with rough, yellowed pages. At the top, a sentence was written in strange alphabetic characters, the ink jet-black and strikingly vivid.

To the left of the notebook, near the edge of the desk, was a neat stack of books, about seven or eight in total. On the wall to their right was embedded a grayish-white pipe connected to a wall lamp.

This lamp had a distinctly Western classical style, about half the size of an adult's head. The inner layer was transparent glass, surrounded by black metal forming a grid.

Diagonally below the extinguished wall lamp, a black ink bottle was bathed in a pale red glow, its surface embossed with a blurred angel pattern.

Before the ink bottle, to the right of the notebook, lay a dark fountain pen with a plump belly, its nib glinting faintly. The pen cap rested beside a revolver gleaming with a brass-like hue.

A pistol? A revolver? Zhou Mingrui was completely stunned. Everything before his eyes was so unfamiliar, bearing no resemblance to his own room!

Amidst his shock and confusion, he noticed the desk, notebook, ink bottle, and revolver were all veiled in a crimson "gauze"—the light streaming in from the window.

Instinctively, he raised his head, his gaze slowly lifting:

In the mid-air, against a black "velvet curtain," hung a full, scarlet-red moon, shining serenely.

This... Zhou Mingrui felt inexplicable terror. He jerked upright, but before his legs could fully straighten, another wave of throbbing pain hit his head. This caused him to briefly lose strength, his center of gravity involuntarily dropping, and his rear end slammed hard onto the hardwood chair seat.

Thump!

The pain had no lasting effect. Zhou Mingrui pressed his hands on the desk, stood up again, and turned around in a panic to survey his surroundings.

It was a small room with a brown door on each side. Against the opposite wall stood a wooden bunk bed.

Between it and the left door was a cabinet with double doors on top and five drawers below.

At the edge of the cabinet, at about a person's height, another grayish-white pipe was embedded in the wall, but it connected to a strange mechanical device, with a few places exposing gears and bearings.

Near the desk, in the right corner, were piled items resembling a coal stove, along with kitchen utensils like a soup pot and an iron pot.

Past the right door was a dressing mirror with two cracks, its wooden base simple and plain in design.

With a sweeping glance, Zhou Mingrui vaguely saw his own reflection—his current self:

Black hair, brown eyes, a linen shirt, a slender build, ordinary features, and rather deep-set contours...

This... Zhou Mingrui immediately sucked in a sharp breath, his heart flooded with numerous helpless and chaotic speculations.

The revolver, the European and American classical-style furnishings, and that crimson moon so different from Earth's—all pointed unmistakably to one thing!

I, I haven't... traveled through time, have I? Zhou Mingrui's mouth slowly fell open.

He had grown up reading online novels and often fantasized about this, but when faced with the real possibility, he found it hard to accept.

This is probably the so-called "Lord Ye's love of dragons," isn't it? After several dozen seconds, Zhou Mingrui self-deprecatingly mocked himself, finding a bit of humor in his misery.

If not for the persistent headache, which kept his mind tense and clear, he would definitely suspect he was dreaming.

Calm, calm, calm... After a few deep breaths, Zhou Mingrui tried hard to steady himself.

Just then, as his mind and body adjusted, fragments of memory abruptly surfaced, slowly unfolding in his mind!

Klein Moretti, from Tingen City, Awwa County, Kingdom of Loen, Northern Continent. A recent graduate of the History Department at Hoy University...

His father was a Royal Army sergeant who died in a colonial conflict on the Southern Continent. The pension allowed Klein to attend a private grammar school, laying the foundation for his university entrance...

His mother was a believer of the Goddess of the Night and passed away the year Klein passed the Hoy University entrance exam...

He has an older brother and a younger sister, all living together in a two-bedroom apartment...

The family is not well-off, even poor, currently relying entirely on the older brother who works as a clerk in an import-export company...

As a history graduate, Klein has mastered Ancient Feysac, considered the origin of the scripts of the Northern Continent nations, as well as Hermes, often found in ancient tombs and related to sacrifices and prayers...

Hermes? Zhou Mingrui's heart stirred. Pressing his throbbing temple, he turned his gaze to the open notebook on the desk. The line of text on the yellowed pages shifted from strange to unfamiliar, from unfamiliar to familiar, from familiar to decipherable.

This was a sentence written in Hermes!

The deep, vivid ink declared:

"Everyone will die, including me."

Hiss! Zhou Mingrui felt inexplicable terror. His body instinctively leaned back, trying to distance itself from the notebook and that line of text.

He was very weak and nearly stumbled. Flustered, he reached out to steady himself on the edge of the desk. The air around him seemed to grow restless, and faint, dense whispers echoed in his ears, evoking the feeling of listening to elders tell ghost stories as a child.

Shaking his head, it was all just an illusion. Zhou Mingrui steadied himself again, shifted his gaze away from the notebook, and took several deep breaths.

Then, his eyes fell upon the revolver gleaming with a brass-like hue, and a question suddenly arose in his mind.

"Given Klein's family circumstances, where would he get the money and means to buy a pistol?" Zhou Mingrui couldn't help but frown.

Lost in thought, he suddenly noticed a half-red handprint on the edge of the desk, its color deeper than the moonlight, thicker than the "gauze."

It was a bloody handprint!

"A bloody handprint?" Zhou Mingrui instinctively turned over his right hand, which had just pressed against the desk edge, and looked down. His palm and fingers were covered in bloodstains.

At the same time, the throbbing pain in his head continued, slightly diminished but unceasing.

"Did I hit and break my head?" Zhou Mingrui wondered as he turned and walked toward the cracked dressing mirror.

After a few steps, the figure of medium build, with black hair, brown eyes, and a distinct scholarly air clearly reflected into his view.

Is this me now? Klein Moretti?

Zhou Mingrui was stunned for a moment. Because the light in the middle of the night was insufficient, he couldn't see clearly, so he continued forward until he was just one step away from bumping into the mirror.

Bathed in the gauze-like crimson moonlight, he tilted his head to examine his temple.

The clearly reflected mirror faithfully presented a ghastly wound occupying his temple area, its edges showing signs of burning, surrounded by bloodstains.

(End of Chapter)