The alarm went off once—and was silenced before it could ring again.
Hastora turned it off without opening his eyes.
There was no reason to wake in the morning. No reason to wake in the afternoon.
Today was no different from yesterday, and tomorrow would be no different either.
He sat up with his eyes still closed, lingering at the edge of the bed before forcing them open.
Drowsiness clung to him.
Last night was no different from any other night. Even with a full two weeks to complete those tasks, he had put them off until the very last moment—until forgetting was no longer a choice, and exhaustion became unavoidable.
After his vision cleared again, he got dressed, ate a simple breakfast, and headed to campus at a leisurely pace.
Upon arriving at campus, he did not go straight to class, but went to the library first. He remembered that he had borrowed some books a week ago, so he had to return them today.
He went to class after returning the books he had borrowed the previous week. He actually wanted to borrow a few more before class, but he remembered that he had to work overtime after classes today and wouldn't have time to read them, so he decided to put it off until tomorrow.
No one greeted him when he entered the classroom.
It was not because of hatred.
It was not because of fear.
It was simply a matter of distance.
The name Vallois was well-known enough to be avoided—but insignificant enough to be ignored.
Seven years ago, his father had joined a separatist movement and was killed by special military forces.
The consequences lingered long after the firefight ended.
His mother bore that burden for four years. Insults followed her through streets and markets, jeers whispered behind her steps—until the pressure shattered what little resolve she had left.
She took her own life.
That was how Hastora became an orphan.
He was an only child. With both his parents dead, he lived alone in a small apartment.
Even his relatives refused to take responsibility for him.
Because of his circumstances, he had to work while studying to pay for his apartment rent and cover his living expenses.
At school, from elementary through college, he was shunned and ostracized by other students for being known as the child of a separatist.
This made it difficult for him to interact and socialize at school, and also caused him to become someone accustomed to being alone and doing everything by himself.
Yet, in truth, he did not care about that; he also did not care about the things around him—whether it was insults or hurtful words, he never paid them any mind at all and went about his days as usual.
Ignoring the other students, Hastora sat in his seat as usual without paying attention to the insults hurled at him. He could hear several male and female students talking about him quietly while laughing.
He was used to this, so it did not bother him at all. All he needed to do was study and go home; he had no time to deal with unimportant things.
The lecturer entered the classroom while the other students were talking about him. As always, Hastora listened to the lesson, took notes as necessary, then waited for the dismissal bell to ring just like everyone else—without ever truly being a part of them.
When the final bell rang, Hastora stood up immediately.
He had no particular destination, only the usual route he always took.
He walked past the campus gate alone, following the path he always took.
Then—in the middle of his steps—something felt wrong.
The sky over the city was never cloudy.
That was why he stopped.
The air felt heavy, as if the world itself had paused.
Sound vanished. The streets emptied. Mist crept in, swallowing buildings one by one.
"Why is this happening?"
He did not panic.
People who were used to living as shadows were not easily startled by strange things.
A circle of light opened in the air.
Not on the ground.
Not in the sky.
But suspended between the two.
For the first time, panic struck him.
"What is this...?"
He raised his hand to shield his eyes as the light grew more intense, brighter with every passing second—until his vision was completely gone.
"Damn it—"
The light exploded.
And the world disappeared.
***
Hastora woke up gasping for breath. His chest rose and fell rapidly, as if his lungs had just remembered how to work.
A few seconds passed before his gaze focused, before the world took shape again.
"What just happened?"
Moonlight illuminated the night sky. He found himself beneath a large tree.
"Why am I under a tree?"
He rose from where he lay and looked around.
"…What place is this?"
He had never seen this place before. It felt unfamiliar to him, and the buildings here also had very unique architecture, like that of the Victorian era.
This was the first time he had seen buildings with such unique architecture in the real world. Previously, he had seen buildings with similar architecture, but only in books.
Yet now, he was seeing them with his own eyes. The buildings were not just like those from the Victorian era—he also just realized that his clothes had changed. The school uniform he had been wearing earlier was gone, replaced by a long, dark-colored coat with a plain shirt and cloth trousers, and he wore rough leather shoes.
"How is this possible? Who changed my clothes?"
Amid his confusion, he suddenly realized something strange about himself. Then he noticed something else.
The reflection in the river looked unfamiliar.
A sharp jawline. Crimson eyes. Jet-black hair.
It did not resemble his face at all.
"Actually... What has happened? Where is this place?"
A multitude of thoughts swirled in his mind, but Hastora had never been in such a bizarre situation before. Panic overwhelmed his mind greatly.
The only thing that made him feel fortunate was that nothing unpleasant or terrifying had appeared. So, Hastora took several deep breaths and calmed himself. Then, a loud shout rang out from far away:
"Kill them!"
"Don't let them live!"
"They deserve to die!"
Fear and excitement mingled together in that strange accent. Hastora was distracted from his panic and felt curious; he thought to himself,
"Kill? Is someone going to be killed?"
As an eighteen-year-old man, Hastora could certainly sense that something bad was going to happen there. Yet, his thoughts were interrupted by someone's loud shout from his right side:
"Hey! What are you doing over there by the river?! Aren't you going to the city center?!"
A middle-aged man was seen sitting on his horse-drawn carriage after Hastora turned around. The middle-aged man sat upright on the carriage seat, wearing a long, dull black wool coat that reached his calves. A dark bowler hat covered his thinning hair, while leather gloves wrapped tightly around both his hands as he held the horse's reins.
Hastora looked confused by his words. "City center?" he asked.
"Of course," the man said. He continued, "The royal soldiers captured some people who joined the separatist group earlier this afternoon, and those people will be executed in the city center. Lots of people are going to the city center to watch—don't you want to see?"
"What? Royal soldiers are going to execute people who joined the separatist group?"
"That's right. If you want to see, come on board—I'll give you a ride. Since I'm feeling kind, it's free, so you don't have to pay."
Hastora looked slightly surprised and was genuinely curious about what the middle-aged man had said.
So, without thinking twice, he got on board at once, then headed to the city center by horse-drawn carriage.
Hastora watched the people running toward the city center along the way. The air was cold; most men and women seemed to be wearing clothes exactly like those from the Victorian era, as he had seen in books.
Most of them had different hair colors and eye colors. Some had brown hair with blue eyes, others had black hair with green eyes, while some prominent faces had blonde hair with brown or yellow eyes.
"Have I traveled back in time and entered someone else's body?" Hastora realized that the clothes he was wearing also looked just like those of some of the people around him.
Not long after they set off by carriage, they saw a crowd gathered in the city center.
The city center spread wide, layers of gray stone paving the ground like cold scales that had been trodden by millions of steps over decades. Around the square, tall buildings stood in silence—royal administrative halls with narrow windows, an old stone cathedral whose shadow covered half the square, and a row of shops that had closed their doors early that day.
A wooden platform was erected right in the middle of the square, surrounded by ranks of fully armed soldiers. Spears stood upright, armor gleaming as it reflected the pale light of the sky.
On the wooden platform, around a dozen bound people could be seen—they were members of the separatist group who had been captured, and were ready to be executed. The crowd cursed and threw stones at them while shouting:
"Die!"
"You deserve to go to hell!"
"My brother died because of you bastards!"
At the front of the crowd stood a blonde-haired man, wearing black armor and a silver sword sheathed at his waist. Behind him stood several men and women in wide, long blue robes, while women in white held staffs in their hands.
The blonde-haired man looked at his pocket watch and stepped forward. He drew his sword from its sheath.
Instantly, all the angry, upset people who had been shouting fell silent.
The blonde-haired man raised his sword toward the sky, then spoke in a loud voice that echoed across the square: "You traitors to the kingdom deserve to die—people like you are not worthy of being allowed to live."
A bright blue light appeared on the blade of his silver sword, then formed a blue-colored blade three meters tall that towered into the sky.
"Go to hell!" he shouted.
The knight swung at the separatists; the strike emitted light so intense it blinded the onlookers.
Then, the blue light gradually faded away, revealing the wooden platform with human bodies cut cleanly in two.
...
The bright blue light still affected Hastora's vision—his eyes could not see clearly yet.
But that did not matter now. Hastora was completely stunned after seeing the blue light and he began to realize something.
"I have not traveled back in time and entered someone else's body."
"But I was in a world where magic truly existed"