A lavishly decorated room was centered around a large, plush bed. Despite its luxury, the bed was unkempt — a jarring contrast to its elegance.
A young man with blonde hair and striking features lay sprawled across the bed. An open bottle of wine rested in his right hand, crimson liquid soaking into the silk sheets.
To any onlooker, the scene would have been terrifying. His body was turning gray — a harrowing sign that he had crossed the border between life and death.
Then, like something out of a horror film, his fingers twitched. His body convulsed violently, and his blonde hair faded to white. If someone had seen what was happening, they might have said a demon was possessing his body.
With a hoarse, guttural grunt, the young man gasped and opened his eyes. A rush of blood surged through him, jolting his body as he reached instinctively toward the ceiling. Aside from his unusual white hair, his eyes were extraordinary. One eye glowed crimson red, the other royal blue — a striking case of heterochromia.
His face was filled with confusion as he tried to stand up.
"Where am I?" he asked, but no one answered. His confusion deepened — the voice hadn't even sounded like his own.
He jumped out of the bed and went to the mirror with an intricate design in the corner of the room.
The mirror caught the sunrays coming from the window, but it did nothing to dim the sharp shock in his expression.
As the reflection became clearer, the confusion on his face grew.
His breath caught in his throat. Was this a dream? A hallucination?
"Who are you?" he asked, thinking the person in front of him was someone else. But the reflection didn't answer. He touched his face — and the reflection mimicked him. It was him.
He was shocked. The body he had been accustomed to since childhood had been replaced. His height remained the same, but his appearance was noticeably younger. The soul was his. But the body… belonged to someone else.
He then remembered the moment he had been about to take the hand of the person who was trying to save him.
"Did I… reincarnate?" he whispered to the mirror, wide-eyed with disbelief.
Reincarnation — one of humanity's oldest mysteries. Unprovable. Unfathomable. And yet… here he was. Estrella had searched for answers to this mystery since childhood. And now he had one.
"Interesting turn of events... how come I didn't reincarnate as a baby?" His blue and red eyes sparkled with curiosity.
"I look like someone from Europe. Also, I'm pretty built too. But his hair and eyes though — definitely intriguing." Thoughts raced through his head as he examined his body.
He looked around the room.
The first thing he noticed was the wine bottle that had rolled off the bed. He picked it up, but the moment he took a whiff, his face twisted in disgust.
It was sweet — unbearably so. Like the crushed essence of the ripest fruits and flowers, concentrated into a single bottle. It smelled like a high concentration of chemicals.
This in turn made Estrella cringe.
"What's wrong with this wine? It smells so disgusting," he said, pinching his nose as he placed the bottle on a nearby nightstand.
"What's this?" he exclaimed, examining the lamp on the nightstand.
It had a peculiar design — clearly a luxury product — but most importantly, there was a floating sphere inside, spinning unstably without any support.
This was the first time he had seen something so magical. It didn't have any wires connected to an outlet, which led him to think it used batteries.
Even when the sphere was removed from the lamp, it continued to float. This, in turn, sparked Estrella's curiosity.
Knock, Knock, Knock
"Illdushiva shi na si ba li gahildashi Estreya."
Suddenly, sounds reverberated through the room from the door, followed by the voice of a woman speaking a strange language. For the first time in his new life, Estrella felt anxious.
The door opened slowly, revealing a woman with black hair tied in a ponytail. She wore a dress similar to those of commoners from the medieval era. In her hand was a tray filled with breakfast. It looked like a fried egg — but it was black instead of white. Alongside it were pieces of meat resembling bacon.
Estrella locked eyes with the woman, clearly shocked by who stood before him.
"Kyaaaaaaaa!"
Upon seeing the young man, the woman screamed so loudly that birds outside fluttered away in alarm.
"ill nacquishtar sibarushueiklp!" the woman shouted in panic. Estrella didn't understand a word — but one thing was clear: he wasn't welcome.
"I have no idea what you're saying — all I can say is that I won't hurt you," Estrella said, waving his arms to try and calm her.
But clearly, it didn't work, because without hesitation, the woman lunged and swung the tray at him, sending food flying.
The first swing missed by an inch. Then she swung from overhead, forcing Estrella to hop back to avoid getting hit.
Judging the distance between them, the woman hurled the tray at him, aiming straight for his glabella.
The tray flew too fast — he couldn't react in time. The last thing he saw was the woman's face — frozen in regret — before everything went dark.
…
Estrella woke up in a different bed.
It was firmer. The sheets were white, too clean, too tight. A soft lamp lit the room in a pale, steady glow. Outside the window, the sun was slowly dipping below the horizon.
He pushed himself up, wincing as a dull pain flared in his head. A bandage was wrapped around his forehead giving a cool sensation.
Across the room stood the same woman from earlier—the one who had thrown a tray at him. Now she looked frozen, eyes wide, like she was seeing something she couldn't explain.
Their eyes met.
She turned without a word and rushed out the door.
Estrella blinked.
"Ow—hsss…" he hissed, clutching his head.
What the hell just happened?
He stared at the door she'd left through, still breathing heavily.
She wasn't speaking English. Was that Russian? Czech? Did I reincarnate into some Slavic fantasy land? I seriously have no clue.
The door opened again.
An old man stepped in, dressed in plain white robes patterned with leaves and herbs. The woman followed behind him, quieter than before, her eyes glued to the floor.
The man spoke. "Ish far qufh jibarosha tindamhgu."
Estrella stared blankly. "Cool. Totally makes sense," he muttered. "Can you speak English, maybe?"
The man's expression grew more focused. He stepped closer and studied Estrella's eyes. Then he motioned for him to open his mouth.
Estrella hesitated. Then sighed and did as told.
More strange words. Still nothing familiar.
He groaned. "You guys should at least know a few words in English... right?"
The old man didn't answer. Instead, he walked to a nearby cabinet and took out a small golden orb. Symbols covered the surface — lines and swirls carved in a way that felt oddly precise.
He handed it to Estrella and gestured.
"…Crush it?" Estrella guessed. He shrugged and did.
The moment the sphere broke in his hand, something warm surged through his chest. A light, soft but overwhelming, spread out inside him. Strange symbols flickered behind his eyes—foreign at first, then suddenly clear.
He gasped. "What the—?"
"Now, do you understand me, Estreya?" the man asked.
Estrella blinked.
He understood. Every word.
Estreya? That's… me, I guess. The name of this body. It's close to my old name—and that's unsettling.
The man picked up a wine bottle from the table.
"Who gave you this?" he asked.
Estrella looked at it, confused. "I… don't know."
The man's brows lowered. "Do you remember anything from yesterday?"
He shook his head. "No. I'm sorry."
That seemed to catch the man off guard. He paused, eyes narrowing like he was trying to figure out a puzzle he didn't expect.
"…That's the first time I've heard you say sorry," he muttered. "Looks like you've lost your memory from the fall."
He held up the wine bottle.
"As for your strange hair and eyes… I believe it's a side effect of the poison."
"Poison?" Estrella's voice cracked.
The man's face darkened. "This kind of poison doesn't belong in a place like this. I've never seen anything like it. I tested it on mice. They died instantly."
Estrella's stomach dropped.
Someone tried to kill me?
Why? I look so innocent.
The old man went back to the cabinet and pulled out a small pill.
"Take this before you sleep. It might help with the memory loss. Come see me again tomorrow — we'll look into your condition then. It's already late."
He turned to the woman.
"Shuya, take Estreya back to his room."
She nodded, flinching slightly. Still wouldn't look at him.
Estrella stood up slowly, the ache in his head dull but persistent. He turned to the doctor and gave a soft smile.
"Thanks, Doctor."
The room went still.
Both the old man and Shuya stared at him like he'd just grown another head.
....
The moment he stepped out of the clinic, Estreya was greeted by a long, dim hallway. A deep red carpet stretched along the floor, and soft torchlight flickered along the stone walls. Floating above each torch was a glowing orb—just like the one from his room.
The third sign of magic.
First, it was the lamp. Then the golden sphere from the doctor. And now… torches straight out of a fantasy story. Each one made it harder to deny—this wasn't Earth anymore.
A quiet thrill bloomed in his chest as he followed Shuya down the corridor. He couldn't stop staring at everything, drinking it all in.
Still, something felt off.
There were no guards, no other footsteps, no voices. Just the sound of his and Shuya's soft steps on the carpet. The silence was thick enough to make his skin prickle.
After a few turns, Shuya suddenly stopped.
"Sir Estreya," she said, voice trembling. "I'm so sorry for what I did. Please… punish me if you must, but spare my parents." She dropped to her knees, head bowed, tears slipping through tightly shut eyes.
Estrella blinked, stunned.
So this is the kind of person Estreya was before... No wonder she's terrified of me. What the hell did he do to make a girl this scared?
He knelt beside her, voice gentle. "Shuya, it's okay. None of this is your fault. You were just doing your job—if I saw someone I didn't recognize, I'd panic too. Especially someone with white hair who looks like a ghost." He gave her a small, reassuring smile.
But instead of calming down, Shuya's eyes widened in alarm. She scrambled to her feet and bolted down the hall without a word.
"Wait—hey! Don't leave me here!"
Estrella reached out instinctively, but she was already gone.
He was alone now, standing awkwardly in front of a tall wooden door. He sighed and turned to look at it.
There, carved into the surface in flowing letters he didn't recognize—but somehow understood—was a name:
Estreya.
He reached for the handle and opened the door.
It was the same room he had woken up in earlier. But now, it was spotless. The broken tray was gone, the bed neatly made, and the light from the floating lamp gave the space a warm, calming glow.
Estrella stepped inside and quietly shut the door behind him.
He sank onto the edge of the bed, eyes wandering across the unfamiliar room.
Everything's moving so fast. I don't even know where I am yet… or who I really am in this world. I want answers—but I guess they'll come tomorrow.
He took the pill the doctor had given him, peeled off the bandage, and set it on the nightstand.
Then, without another thought, he lay back and drifted into sleep.