Growing Confusion

What I was feeling almost seemed indescribable. I felt this strange suction force, something pulling at me, not from any particular direction, but from deep inside myself. Then it transitioned into a sensation like falling, only it happened faster than it should have.
When I tried to sense myself, to feel my body, it was as if it never existed. The only part of me that seemed accessible was my mind, and even that was in fragments.
The suction kept increasing, becoming nearly unbearable, as if I were being torn apart. Then, suddenly, I felt a burning sensation, followed by something else, something I recognised, breathing.
It was shallow at first, but then each breath grew deeper, almost forced, as if I had been deprived of something so simple for far too long.
Next came a weird buzzing sound, growing louder and louder, grating against my nerves. When it felt like I was on the edge of insanity, it abruptly stopped, leaving behind an eerie stillness.
I could feel it now, my body, I was lying somewhere soft, a bed. No, probably not a bed, that was never a luxury I could afford; my own bed had never been this comfortable.
I tried opening my eyes, but I grimaced as blinding light burned them. It was as if they had grown more sensitive to the light. Gathering every ounce of strength, I raised my arm to shield my eyes.
Finally, it felt like all my senses returned to me. First, the cold bit into my skin, rattling my bones. Then came the raspy dryness in my throat and the burning in my eyes.
As I grew accustomed to the light, I lowered my hand and tried to sit upright. It was harder than it should have been, but I managed, then turned to take in my surroundings.
The colours became clearer, revealing a room I had never seen before. It was huge, far more spacious than the sorry excuse for a room I was used to. The walls were tall and high, covered in dark, ornate patterns. The floor was sleek and dark, probably wood, and the furniture looked like it was made from the finest polished timber. Beside me, a study desk was cluttered with books that looked too big and too ancient, their spines thick and heavy. Opposite was a cupboard with countless compartments, making it look even older. On the other side, a full-length mirror stood beside a wooden door with a shiny knob, probably leading to a bathroom. To my right was a window, divided into four panes, covered in white curtains that barely held back the sunlight trickling through, though the light was faint.
That was when the realisation hit me.
Where the fuck am I? This isn’t my room.
I tried to remember how I got here, but as I did, my head started pounding, throbbing with pain, as if it was being compressed. Groaning, I clutched my head as memories washed through me.
The alley. I thought I had died. Did I survive? Maybe someone saved me.
Frantically, I looked down at my abdomen, searching for a wound. I noticed I was shirtless, and glancing at my side, there was nothing. No wound, not even a scar.
What the hell is going on? Am I fucking dreaming?
Throwing off the fluffy white blanket that covered me, I tried to stand. My bare feet met the cold wooden floor.
Fuck, why is it so cold? The chill hammered against my skin as I tried to get up. My legs almost gave out, nearly sending me face-first to the floor, but I steadied myself against the bed frame and made my way to the window.
Where the fuck am I?
Walking towards the window with trembling steps, I pulled aside the curtains. What I saw made my jaw drop.
All I could see was snow, stretching as far as my eyes could reach. Long pine trees, their tops dusted in white, stood in the distance. I searched for anything, anything at all, that could give me a clue, but there was nothing. Just a frozen wasteland.
What the hell. Don’t fucking tell me…
Stumbling towards the mirror, I hurried, almost falling, before catching my own reflection. I looked the same: dark, tousled black hair falling over my forehead, sharp features, deep black eyes, and the identical mole beside my nose. Pale skin. I looked the same age, eighteen.
Wait, when the fuck did I get these muscles? Staring at my abdomen and arms, I was stunned. They looked similar to my old lean build, but there were definite ripples of muscle that had never been there before.
Looking closer, I noticed a mark on my forearm, two deep black, almost obsidian-like gauges. They looked like claw marks, but instead of the usual three, there were just two, bundled together.
What the hell is this?
Tracing my finger over it, the texture felt vivid and entirely different from the skin around it, almost sleek.
Turning to look around the room again, the absurdity finally hit me. The furniture, the lack of any appliances, gas lanterns instead of bulbs, holy fuck, don’t tell me.
This isn’t Earth, is it?
Or maybe it’s one sick joke. Or, even simpler, after all these years, I have truly lost it.
I clearly died, I remember the feeling vividly, the moment my consciousness drifted away from me, like sleep, but on a deeper level, as if the very you was being erased.
What sort of sick shit is this? I finally get to die, to get past that shitty life, only to find myself in another one. My mind was reeling, my thoughts scrambling to make sense of what was happening.
What the fuck should I even do? Where the hell am I? Who am I supposed to be now?
Clutching my head, my nails digging into my scalp, I heard a faint knocking at the door, the sound echoing through the still room.
Before I could do or say anything, a soft female voice followed.
“Master Yun, the Lord wishes your presence for breakfast.”
As her words faded, I heard the soft clicking of her shoes against the wooden floor, indicating that she had left.
Master? What the hell?
And she called me Yun. So, am I still me here? Well, the body looks like mine, and even the name is the same. But that’s where the similarities end.
Taking deep breaths and finally regaining some composure, I tried to piece together what I could.
This isn’t Earth, and this body isn’t really mine. That was the only conclusion I could come up with. Though, thinking it over made me feel uneasy inside. No, too quick to jump to conclusions, let’s just go and do what’s expected of me. It’s best if I keep this to myself and play dumb for now.
Moving towards the wardrobe, I took out the first set of clothes inside: deep blue trousers and a crisp brown shirt that resembled a tunic. The clothes fit me snugly, oddly comforting against the cold, despite being thin.
Placing my hand on the cold golden doorknob, I took a deep breath before stepping out.
Well, here goes nothing.
The lord, she called him. Probably the father of whoever this body belongs to.
The implication of why this stranger and I shared similar names and bodies confused me, but for now, I forced the thought away, trying to focus on what was ahead.
One step at a time.
Leaving the room, I was greeted by a long corridor with wooden floorboards and carpeted walls. The wooden ceiling was covered with ornate chandeliers that shone with pale golden light.
The air was cold, with a subtle woodiness and muskiness to it. The walls even had fancy paintings hanging on them, each more beautiful than the last.
One of them depicted a man single-handedly fighting against a swarm of wolves. Only, the wolves here didn’t really seem like the typical kind. Each was monstrous, their abysmal figures clearly depicted in paint. Talk about exaggerating.
There was another that seemed like a family portrait: a family of four, a man with long white hair and a scruffy beard standing with a stoic expression, and beside his broad shoulders stood a woman with deep black hair, her features gentle and soft, a stark contrast to the gauntness of the man. They had two children, a daughter slightly older with white hair just like her father and sharp features, giving her an otherworldly beauty. Beside her stood a son, younger, almost a child, with jet black hair and eyes and pale, sharp skin.
The family this body belonged to.
Looking at the portrait, at the family to which the body, or the original Yun, belonged, I felt a weird, unsettled feeling deep in my gut, as if I had stolen something I never should have.
It’s not like I did anything; I was forced into this, whatever is going on. At least this guy had a family, a home to return to.
Releasing a deep sigh, I continued to the end of the corridor, finding a wooden staircase that led downstairs.
What a filthy rich family. Even a single painting here would set me up for life.
Well, technically, I am a part of it now, right?
Shaking off unnecessary thoughts, I continued down, following the sound of subdued conversation, until I found myself in front of a set of double doors.
“Why is he still not here?” A heavy voice reverberated, pressing against my very soul, so commanding and resolute as if I had to obey no matter what.
“Apologies, my lord, I’ll look for the master at once.”
Wait, how should I act? What was this body like? Confident, smart, or shy? I really didn’t want to give away anything for now. If I really found myself in another world, it was best to play my cards right.
Well, I’ll just act like plain old me.
“No need, I’m here. Sorry to keep you waiting,” I spoke calmly as I opened the door before anyone else could. The person in front of me looked like the butler, wearing a fancy black coat over a frilled white shirt. He seemed old, a pair of steel-trimmed glasses resting on his nose.
He stepped aside, bowing as I passed, and I took in the sight of the dining room in all its grandeur. It was a long room, lined with glass panes on one side, covered with curved red curtains, and a long wooden table, currently occupied by only two people who seemed engrossed in their meals. At the far end sat the man from the painting, the father of this body, his long white hair combed back and tied, his white beard scruffy. His face was sharp, his jaw tight, and with his broad shoulders, his presence felt suffocating. Something about him sent a shiver down my spine, as if I were staring at a calamity itself.
A few chairs away sat a woman, clearly a bit older than me, her soft white hair cascading down her shoulder, her white eyebrows above her eyes lending her an almost ethereal look. Her face was poised, her chin sharp as she looked up to meet my eyes, a small smile creeping onto her face.
Seeing her smile, a strange feeling settled in my heart. It was confusing. Throughout my life, I never had any family, no one to call my own, not even someone I could rely on as a friend. It had always been just me. But now, seeing these two people in front of me, one my supposed father and one my elder sister, I couldn’t help but feel a weird twinge in my heart.
As I walked to take a seat opposite my sister, the man’s heavy eyes bore down on me. His gaze was suffocating, as if I was being pressed down by a boulder. It was a feeling I had never experienced, as if his very presence demanded my respect and reverence.
“Good morning, father,” I muttered, trying to keep my voice as neutral as possible, though my heart was pounding in my chest.
Taking the seat across from her, I noticed her looking at me expectantly.
Wait, am I doing something wrong? Don’t tell me they have some weird tradition and I missed it. Fuck, I don’t even know their names.
Seeing my passive face, she pouted.
“Are you not going to greet me, brother?”
Is she for real, just that? She nearly gave me a heart attack.
“Good morning, sister. I hope you slept well,” I answered with a smile.
As soon as the words left my mouth, a maid appeared beside me, placing a plate of food in front of me.
Boiled eggs, bacon, and two slices of bread. Damn, what a feast. Having lived off whatever a few pennies could buy, this was pure luxury.
Wait, do I need to follow some sophisticated table manners? Looking over to her, I noticed she was eating the bacon with a knife and fork. Well, I should be able to manage that much.
As my fingers touched the cutlery, his heavy voice broke through the room, almost making me flinch.
“Are you prepared for the trial?” he asked, his voice bearing down on me, his gaze fixed.
Fuck me, what trial? It’s just one thing after another.
“Yes, father,” I replied with as much confidence as I could muster, keeping up the calm and composed facade I had maintained so far.
He nodded briefly and continued eating.
“Don’t you dare squander the name of Frost,” he said, breaking the silence, his voice heavier and more tense than before.
I looked him in the eye, then turned to continue my breakfast, struggling a bit to cut through my bacon.
Damn, this family has issues.
The rest of breakfast went by uneventfully, the man leaving before the both of us. As soon as he disappeared past the doors, my sister leaned toward me, her eyes shining with a strange glint.
“Little brother, are you nervous?” she asked, crossing her arms and leaning onto the table, her face etched in worry.
“What’s there to be nervous about?” I replied nonchalantly.
Hearing my words, she leaned back in her chair, her face turning to confusion.
“Aren’t you scared you might die? I was very scared before my trial,” she mumbled under her breath.
The hell is she saying? Die? Didn’t I just die? And this trial they keep talking about, seriously, where the hell have I landed?
“Well, if it’s you, I am confident you will succeed,” she added with a grin, standing up and pushing her chair back. “I have to go now, brother, see you later!” she called before leaving, rendering me in the misery of trying to understand where the hell I was, and just what this death trial entailed.

Chapter end