001 Crimson

Pain!

Oh, the pain!

My head, it aches terribly!

The bizarre dreams, filled with murmurs, swiftly shattered as Zhou Mingrui, deep in slumber, felt an excruciating throbbing in his head. It was as though he'd been struck hard with a club or pierced by a sharp object at his temple, accompanied by a stirring sensation!

In a haze, Zhou Mingrui tried to turn over, to cover his head, to sit up, but found himself completely immobile, his body seemingly beyond his control.

It seems I have not truly awakened yet, still trapped in the realm of dreams... Perhaps I might even mistake waking for sleeping again... Zhou Mingrui, familiar with such encounters, exerted all his willpower to break free from the shackles of darkness and illusion.

However, in this half-asleep state, his will was as fleeting as smoke, difficult to control, difficult to gather. No matter how hard he tried, his thoughts wandered uncontrollably, distractions emerging.

What a fine night, how could this sudden headache occur?

And it's so intense!

Could it be a cerebral hemorrhage or something?

Damn, am I going to die young like this?

Wake up! Wake up!

Hmm, it doesn't seem as painful as just now? But it still feels like there's a blunt knife slowly cutting through my mind...

It seems I can't continue sleeping. How can I go to work tomorrow?

Thinking about work? With a genuine headache, of course, I should take a leave! No need to fear the manager's nagging!

Come to think of it, that doesn't sound too bad, hehe, stealing a day of leisure!

The recurring throbs accumulated into a surreal strength within Zhou Mingrui, and finally, with a determined effort, he mustered the strength to move his waist, open his eyes, and completely shake off the half-asleep state.

At first, his vision was blurry, then tinged with a faint crimson hue. As his gaze fell, Zhou Mingrui saw before him a wooden desk, upon which lay an open notebook, its pages rough and yellowed. Strange letters were written in ink, dark and striking.

To the left of the notebook, against the edge of the table, sat a stack of neatly arranged volumes, about seven or eight in number. On the wall to their right were embedded gray-white pipes, connected to wall lamps.

These lamps bore a classical Western flavor, roughly the size of half an adult's head, with transparent glass interiors encased in black metal grilles.

Below a extinguished lamp, a black ink bottle cast a faint red glow, its surface forming a vague angelic pattern.

Before the ink bottle, to the right of the notebook, lay a sleek dark steel pen, its tip gleaming faintly. The cap rested beside it, next to a brass-colored revolver.

A revolver? Zhou Mingrui was completely stunned, as everything before him seemed unfamiliar, bearing no resemblance to his own room!

Amidst his astonishment, he noticed that the desk, notebook, ink bottle, and revolver were all draped in a crimson "veil," cast by the light streaming in from outside.

Instinctively, he lifted his head, his gaze gradually ascending:

In the sky, above the black "velvet curtain," hung a scarlet full moon, shining serenely.

This... Zhou Mingrui felt a nameless panic, suddenly stood up, but before his legs could fully straighten, another wave of pain shot through his head, causing him to momentarily lose strength. His weight involuntarily shifted, and his buttocks slammed hard onto the hard wooden chair.

Crack!

The pain had no effect, Zhou Mingrui pressed his hand against the desk and stood up again, turning his body around frantically to survey the environment.

It was a small room, with doors on either side, and against the opposite wall stood a wooden bunk bed. Between it and the left door was a cabinet, with five drawers underneath.

Along the edge of the cabinet, at a height of about a person, were the same gray-white pipes embedded in the wall, but they connected to a peculiar mechanical device, with some gears and bearings exposed.

In the right corner near the desk, items resembling a coal stove, as well as soup pots and kitchen utensils, were piled up.

Beyond the right door was a dressing mirror with two cracks, its wooden base adorned with simple patterns.

With a sweep of his gaze, Zhou Mingrui vaguely caught sight of his reflection in the mirror: 

Black hair, brown eyes, linen shirt, slender physique, ordinary features, prominent contours...

This... Zhou Mingrui sucked in a cold breath, a myriad of helpless and chaotic conjectures flooding his mind.

The revolver, the European and American classical decor, and the crimson moon so distinct from Earth, all indicated some event!

Could it be... I've crossed over? Zhou Mingrui's mouth opened slowly. He had often fantasized about this from reading online novels, but when faced with it for real, he found it hard to accept.

This is probably what they call "feigning interest," right? After a few seconds, Zhou Mingrui self-mockingly remarked amidst his distress.

If not for the persistent ache in his head, which kept his mind alert and clear, he would surely suspect he was dreaming.

Calm, calm, calm... Taking a few deep breaths, Zhou Mingrui endeavored to quell his panic.

Just then, as his body and mind settled, fragmented memories abruptly surfaced, slowly presenting themselves in his mind!

Klein Moretti, a native of the Ahova County in the Rune Kingdom on the northern continent, recently graduated from the history department of Hoi University...

His father was a Royal Army sergeant, sacrificed in the colonial conflicts in the southern continent, the compensation money obtained provided Klein with the opportunity to attend a private grammar school, laying the foundation for his admission to university...

His mother was a devotee of the Night Goddess, who passed away in the year Klein passed the entrance exam for Hoi University...

He also had a brother, a sister, sharing a two-bedroom apartment...

The family was not well-off, to say the least, relying entirely on his brother's job as a clerk in an import-export company...

As a graduate of the history department, Klein mastered the ancient Gufusak language, reputed to be the source of scripts in various northern continent countries, as well as the Hermes script often found in ancient tombs, associated with rituals and prayers...

Hermes script? Zhou Mingrui's heart stirred, pressing his throbbing temple, he looked at the open notebook on the desk, feeling the strange words written on the yellowed pages change from unfamiliar to familiar, from familiar to interpretable.

This was a message written in Hermes script!

The ink, dark and alluring, conveyed the following words:

"All shall die, including myself."

Hiss! Zhou Mingrui felt an inexplicable terror, instinctively leaned back, trying to distance himself from the notebook and the words.

Feeling weak, he almost fell, hastily reaching out to grasp the edge of the table, sensing the air around him become restless, faint whispers echoing in his ears, reminiscent of the sensation of listening to horror stories told by elders in his childhood.

Shaking his head, it was all just an illusion. Zhou Mingrui regained his balance, tearing his

 gaze away from the notebook, and took a deep breath.

At this moment, his eyes fell on the brass-colored revolver, and a question suddenly popped into his mind.

"With Klein's background, how could he afford and obtain a revolver?" Zhou Mingrui furrowed his brow involuntarily.

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

It was a bloody handprint!

"A bloody handprint?" Zhou Mingrui instinctively opened his right hand, which had been pressing against the edge of the desk, and looked down, only to see his palm and fingers covered in bloodstains.

At the same time, the throbbing in his head persisted, slightly weakening but continuous.

"Could I have hit my head?" Zhou Mingrui speculated as he turned his body, walking towards the cracked dressing mirror.

After a few steps, a figure of medium build, with black hair and brown eyes, exuding an obvious scholarly air, appeared clearly in his sight.

Is this me now, Klein Moretti?

Zhou Mingrui was taken aback for a moment, because the light in the middle of the night was not bright enough to see clearly, so he continued forward until he was only a step away from the mirror.

Bathed in the crimson moonlight, he turned his head slightly to examine his temple.

The mirror reflected clearly, a grim wound occupying the position of his temple, with singed edges and smeared with blood.