I wandered around the place for a while before returning to the room I had woken up in. Wandering the halls gave me a bit of nausea as I wasn’t familiar with navigating such large buildings. The general vibe I got from the surroundings was a palace-like atmosphere. There weren’t guards or security, but the grandness of everything only hinted at a unique premise. Not to mention, everywhere I went was spotless with carpets as vibrant as ones that have never been stepped on. It was to the point I even fooled myself into thinking I was committing a crime for sullying the carpets with my shoes.

But in truth, it was a maze. The biggest reason to call it a maze rather than a palace was that there were no openings or windows. Someone could tell me I was underground and I’d believe it. And yet, the air was not stagnant in any way; the quality was about the same as when I frolicked in the prairies… Errr, anyway that indicated there was some form of ventilation despite the lack of vents.

But that was beside the point for now. It was a good observation nevertheless. I had to praise the knowledge I had accumulated from watching those useless detective shows somehow. Else my previous life’s knowledge really would be useless.

‘I wonder if they have televisions here.’

Back to the focus, I found a book on the table beside the bed and I couldn’t help but ponder on why it was there. I didn’t recall there being one because I would have remembered it. It wasn’t in some obscure corner after all.

There weren’t any notes that notified me of what it was doing there so I only glanced at it before grabbing it.

The hardcover was dyed in a blue pigment, reminiscent of a well-maintained old-aged book. The textile did not have much give to it when I slid my fingers across it. It wasn’t made of cheap leather, but a high-quality cloth that added a hint of mystery to it.

‘Are books expensive?’

I had my suspicions when entering my family’s home, but I shrugged it off since both my parents didn’t seem to hold a parcel of intellect or wisdom within them.

The titleless color added onto the luxurious effect, reminding me of the scent of aged books back in my world. They were rarities that could no longer be found in the run-of-the-mill library.

‘If this world had public libraries, that would be fantastic.’

After fantasizing about the many things I could do with all the knowledge of this world, I opened the book to realize a bigger issue.

I flipped through a couple more pages in a stutter, thinking I had seen something else—and I was right; but instead of something legible, it was something much deeper, riddled with nonsensical and incomprehensible symbols, yet at the same time, there was an intense complexity that said otherwise. It was something a teenager would write—a fanfiction of sorts.

I slid my finger to the very side and bent the book, revealing a glimpse into each page as their corners moved under my finger.

‘Fucking hell.’

Disappointed, I closed the book and slumped forward onto the bed. Its convenience was readily available for me, so there wasn’t a reason why I shouldn’t take advantage of it.

I released the book from my hand and sunk both hands into the pillow, which I squeezed the living soul out of.

A barbaric grunt came out of me naturally as I flexed my arms in rage for a couple seconds, before softening and letting go entirely.

I got up enough to be considered a sitting position, before slapping my cheek back onto the pillow.

I didn’t know how long had passed since I consciously knocked myself out staring at the blank wall. It was a very nice, plain, white wall. I could spend hours looking at it.

My body was tired as was my mind, so out of spite, I started curling around in the bed until I ended up rolling off to the floor.

‘Fuck.’

I scratched my shin roughly before getting up and slamming the pillow back onto the bed. It didn’t deserve the treatment since it comforted my fall, but I did it anyway. I could do whatever I want, and I would do whatever I want.

And that freedom extended to subjecting myself to hours of delirious yet boring torture. A torture made commonplace in my old world. An ancient practice long told by many. But it was such a shitty thing.

‘Fuck me.’

With a good ol’ sniff and a calmed breath, I “quickly” got over it and grabbed the book as I took a seat on the bed, using the table as a study desk.

I opened the pages once again, greeted by a French that was Spanish—but was in fact English all along. The epitome of confusion laid ahead.

Turning a couple pages over, was an image of a cultic symbol any laymen would recognize—that included me.

‘Magic circle?’

After scrutinizing it with unworthy eyes, I flipped back to the first page and gave a deep sigh.

‘What kind of fucking language is this?’

The crude cursive looked about the same as Arabic; its sentence structure as chaotic as Chinese; and symbols that told Greek Mathematicians to fuck off with their alphabetical variables.

I rubbed my chin and pretended I understood everything while muttering under my breath, “Ah yes, why didn’t I think of this sooner? This author is a fuckin’ genius.”

I sat there for a while eyeing the pages, before taking off my imaginary glasses and slamming the book down on the table. With tremendous force, I might add.

I wasn’t about to dedicate my entire life to become a scholar or a polyglot, and I definitely wasn’t going to summon any cursed spirit. I’ve seen enough shitty horror films to infer that reading books with cultic magic circles was not a good idea.

Even though I knew this world had magic that was very much different from what I had imagined, I was still bound by my preconceptions of it from films.

It was totally not an excuse for me to get out of my room to take a walk.

Speaking of taking a walk, why don’t I do that right now?

It wasn’t like something interesting would fall from the ceiling or I’d encounter a peculiar opening in the hallway that would free me from this prison.

‘And I’m obviously not procrastinating…’

As I wandered around aimlessly, I thought it was peculiar that I hadn’t encountered a single person in the hallways, but my sense of timelessness was soon interrupted by loud banging noises. At first, I thought it was some form of schizophrenia coming back to haunt me, but the loud banging came again like a gunshot.

I let the noises guide me down the hall, and sooner, more and more chaotic noises echoed from the hallway. I couldn’t make anything out of it, as it was muffled much like a scream from underwater.

The hallways even had me confused with the root-like systems, but I eventually found myself at the end. It blended in with the atmosphere as if it were never supposed to be found. The completely red door was the same color as the walls and the carpet. If I hadn’t approached close enough, I would have thought it was a dead-end. More or less, it was an incomprehensible mess that skewed my concept of color. It utilized something similar to optical illusions to create a camouflaged surface.

When I twisted the red knob, the door did not give way. I would have thought it was a fake immovable door if it were not for the loud noises on the other side.

I got it open after ramming my body against it a couple times, and immediately, the muffled music exploded.

The noise was louder than ever, peaking at every beat, and entrancing my every fiber as if I were at a live concert.

‘A marching band?’

*Bang

The out of rhythm bang from behind me got me to turn around, only to realize there was nothing there.

It was a dead-end with no door.

There was no longer a hallway, but the loud music continued to echo from above.

I was convinced the polished steps which took on a physical form were a deity’s way of leading me up to the afterlife—or something just as lively.

I looked behind me one more time to confirm the non-existence of the door before moving in the only direction I had left.

I treaded stealthy up the flight of stairs, even though I didn’t need to. The music was more than enough to mask any other sound—it dominated sound itself. The raw impression was handled well by my ears, telling a tale of harmony between noise and music. Maybe I was too retarded to notice earlier, but there was magic in the air. And I meant that literally and figuratively.

The mana was a lot more congregated in the air when compared to my home. I could tell from the fact that I could suck it in with little effort. I couldn’t see it, but I could sort of feel it.

Much like air which couldn’t be seen with the naked eye, if you asked someone whether a mine deposit had better air than a forest, anyone could recognize instinctually that the air quality in a forest was always superior. This was a similar case, except with mana.

The feeling wasn’t as sensitive, as I’ve been breathing air since my inception; but I could faintly taste the difference in mana quality. In fact, if I sat down right now, I bet I could run it around my body with ease. I might even be able to complete two full circuits if I concentrated enough.

‘Interesting.’

As I mulled over the numerous possibilities that opened up, I found myself at the top of the stairs met with another door.

I twisted the knob, and it opened quite easily this time

Strangely enough, the music stopped abruptly at the same time.

There was first the clear blue skies with the one and only sun shining out ahead. Then the roof platform I was standing on. And finally, a pair of eyes that belonged to a cat. Green. Blue.

Eyes that did not belong to humans stared at me from below.

I stared back, but the momentary staring contest was broken seconds after.

The girl about my age stuck her head back inside the carriage. It was pulled by white horses and knights in silver armor. An aura of royalty emanated from it.

Before I knew it, the fire of music had rekindled, with the same vehicle parading at the center.