My mind went into overdrive to think of a plan to avoid the fate that awaited both Ivan and Dragan. Assuming this world followed certain key plot points, my first hurdle would be to alert Ivan about the impending danger to his brother. However, this already put me in a bad spot for two reasons. Firstly, the book never gave a date or some other description on when exactly this event happened, so I was left in the dark on when it’ll happen. Secondly, I had no idea how to tell all of this to Ivan without revealing to him that he was a character from a story.

The unsettling sensation of bugs crawling beneath my skin spread suddenly swept all across the nape of my neck, jolting me out of my important thought process. I turned my head and looked upward to find Ivan standing over me, literally catching him red-handed. Before I had a chance to open my mouth to curse him out for touching me like this, he spoke up first.

“You looked oddly concentrated. I had a distinct feeling you’re scheming something bad.” His tone was low and light, as if he was making a joke, but I saw his hardened eyes and knew he was interrogating me. It terrified me how quickly he was able to get a read on me, given that we had spent a maximum of two hours together at this point. Now, I had a faint idea how and why Ivan was considered as one of the strongest and most dangerous mages; his intuition was scarily sharp. It became even scarier when you found yourself on the receiving end of it!

Like many times already, I opened my mouth and closed it again. Whenever the mage cornered me like this I didn’t know how to respond, and it pissed me off how pathetic I must have appeared in these moments. I had never been like this when I was alive! 

My annoyance finally pushed me to speak up. Drawing upon this sudden burst of courage, I gracefully rose from the floor where I had been seated, ensuring that my movements exuded confidence as I positioned myself face to face with Ivan.

“Your brother just reminded me of something,” I declared in a tone that satisfied me, and a confident smile curved my lips to match my mood. If I stayed weak at such a low level discussion, there was no way I'd be able to save Ivan and Dragan! 

“Now that you mention my brother, you were staring at him an awful lot,” Ivan’s voice rang out, taut as a rope ready to snap any moment. His eyes had a different shimmer to them than before and I searched my memory for any description that fit what I saw but I remembered nothing. Where was he going with this question? It was true that I had stared at Dragan because I was caught off guard by how he had changed from the little boy that I imagined. The problem was that there was no way to convey this to Ivan, without revealing too much.

“I was admiring how easy it is to see that you two are brothers. Your faces are pretty similar, except for your eye colors.” I finally decided, opting to divulge parts of my genuine thoughts. I disliked the thought of getting tangled up in too many lies, so I might as well feed Ivan with parts of the truth, while avoiding the most crucial information. 

Ivan’s frosty eyes lingered on my face, his brow furrowing once again but he chose to stay silent for a few seconds. I took this time to study his face more now that I wasn’t in mortal danger or drenched in cold water. 

As described in the novel, Ivan’s hair looked rather silky with a deep rich hue like the skin of a ripe plum. His frosty blue eyes stood in contrast to that and made his eyes look quite sharp, fitting for his image as one of the strongest mages. His facial features were artful, resembling a Greek statue of a young man you’d see in a museum. Now that I actually stood right in front of him, it dawned on me that he was real - a breathing being with flesh and blood. He wasn’t a figment of my imagination or a daydream anymore. If I wasn’t a ghost I could’ve reached out and touched him, feeling his heartbeat under my fingers. 

Wait, where was I going with my thoughts!?

My cheeks heated up noticeably, prompting me to avert my eyes in a feeble attempt to sort through all my complex and jumbled feelings. Seeing the real Ivan was certainly different from reading about him.

“Rêve,” he said, my name rolling off his tongue with ease. I instinctively looked back at Ivan, who now wore an ominous(?) smile. “You like my face more than his, right?”

“What?” I blurted out, my voice flat with surprise.

I stared at Ivan with growing confusion. What did it matter to him what I thought of his face? There had to be a logical explanation to this, right? I chose to believe that I had to have misunderstood him because I was too distracted. Uncertain of what to say next, I tried to feign calmness by brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. 

“I must’ve mishea-”

“Ivo, did you say something? I thought I had heard you, but it must’ve been a trick of my mind,” Dragan’s confused voice interrupted me, snapping us both out of our moment or whatever that was. My attention immediately shifted to Dragan, until Ivan blocked him from my sight with his own body when he turned around, causing me to grind my teeth in frustration. 

“I was just mumbling to myself. Sorry for keeping you waiting,” Ivan replied, without sparing another glance at me. He left the living room to join his brother in the kitchen, where I assumed they would eat at the table. With a quiet thud, the door closed, leaving me alone and my thoughts in the spacious living room.

Why was this Ivan being so difficult? I had always imagined it’d be smooth sailing if I ever ended up in this world, but I was sorely mistaken. At first, the image I had of Ivan pretty much matched with what I encountered in the back alley, but even then there were certain moments, where he felt completely unreadable or even out of character to me. Had my interpretation of him been so far off from who he actually was?

A frustrated sigh escaped my lips as I struggled to make sense of anything. Accepting this reality, my only option was to devise a plan while considering Ivan as an uncertain variable. 

This led me back to my earlier problem and next course of action: I needed to find a way to alert Ivan and Dragan about the impending danger!

In the book, these events were only shortly discussed, so my hand looked pretty bare. I knew the identity of Ivan’s assassins, but aside from that, my information on this particular event was limited.

Agitation swiftly consumed my body and mind, prompting me to lay down on the floor, stomach against the ground, burying my face in my arms in the process. Surprisingly, the enveloping darkness provided a grounding effect, gradually calming my racing thoughts and allowing for the emergence of more coherent thinking.

My whole endeavor was already off to a terrible start, but I didn’t want to let myself get discouraged by it. It was time to focus on the countermeasures and two plans formed in my mind. If I didn’t know when the assassination would happen, I could try to infiltrate the guild’s headquarters and get some information this way. The two characters that were directly involved in Dragan’s death likely spent most of their time there. 

The downside to this plan was that it was dangerous as I’d put myself on the frontlines, and I knew the guild Aranea had several strong mages. If any of these were to see me, I really might die without changing anything. As of now, I knew that only Ivan was able to perceive me and I didn’t know what the criteria for this was. This uncertainty made my first plan basically useless…or maybe I was too much of a coward, I wasn’t too sure.

The other plan involved shadowing Dragan for the next few days. If I told Ivan that his brother was in danger, I could try to stay by Dragan’s side and inform Ivan when danger arises so he could intervene in time. There had to be spells and artifacts that made it possible to communicate over a distance, right? I just didn’t know how to talk to Ivan about all this, so I had to figure something out, even if it was a lie.

I raised my head from the darkness of my arms and blinked a few times at the brightness around me, until I could see normally again. Friendly chatter and laughing could be heard from the kitchen, where the two brothers ate and I felt a pang of sadness in my chest. I couldn’t even talk to my sister one last time, before I died.  

I knew these thoughts would only bring me pain and that I had to push them aside for now, but I wasn’t a machine! When I felt my eyes sting, I buried my face in my arms once more in an attempt to drown out everything once more. For a few minutes I allowed myself to grieve, something I had tried to suppress over the past few hours. 

***

The brother's dinner passed swiftly, and before long, Ivan and Dragan made their way into the living room, where I had anxiously awaited their arrival. As Ivan's gaze swept across the room, his eyes eventually met mine. In that fleeting moment, I caught a glimpse of what I believed to be disdain etching itself onto his face, causing him to avert his gaze, as if unable to bear the sight of my pathetic self.

It was incredibly frustrating not being able to see my reflection in a mirror. I had always taken great care of my face and hygiene in my previous life, so this ghostly state felt uncomfortably unfamiliar. Not knowing how I appeared to Ivan only added to my unease. There was also this irrational fear in the back of my mind, that Dragan might eventually be able to see me. 

Despite all this, I knew I needed to remain composed and focused on the present. Making a misstep now could lead to the worst possible outcome, so I had to proceed with caution. My best course of action seemed to be waiting until Dragan retired for the night to speak with Ivan again.

The living room exuded a warm, amicable atmosphere, as one would expect between two brothers who shared an unbreakable bond. However, the harmony within their presence only intensified the feeling of being a voyeuristic presence in their lives. 

Silently, or at least I assumed I was silent, I rose from my seat and made my way through the door into the kitchen. With my current ethereal form, sitting in a chair or leaning against a wall was impossible, so I opted instead to stretch my ghostly self, a better alternative to just idling away all day. In the past, doing a bit of sport always served to help me get my mind off things, so why not try the same now?

I dedicated a considerable amount of time to performing full-body stretches, pushing my ethereal form until a faint sense of discomfort settled within. Strangely, this discomfort served as a reminder of my existence, grounding me to some semblance of vitality. Ivan's assurance that I was alive echoed in my mind, but it felt more like a consolation than a tangible reality. After all, I couldn't even catch a glimpse of my own reflection. Just as I prepared to lower myself for some hamstring stretches, the kitchen door abruptly swung open, compelling me to freeze in place, until a familiar voice reached my ears.

“Um-, am I interrupting?” Ivan asked, voice tinged with unexpected embarrassment and I felt my face flush, guessing what kind of sight he had been greeted with when he entered the kitchen. I quickly adjusted my pose and went back to a normal standing position.

A few seconds of silence hung in the air, the atmosphere in the kitchen becoming somewhat heated.

“It must’ve been uncomfortable for you earlier. I’m sorry for not noticing. ” Ivan whispered discreetly, which prompted me to turn around towards him to hear him better. What was he talking about?

Disregarding my confusion, Ivan’s lips curled into a thoughtful smile, as he continued his whispered conversation. His smile was genuine and warm,standing in stark contrast to the fake or mischievous expressions he had shown me in our previous interactions. 

“If you need some peace and quiet away from us, you can stay in my room. Our voices can’t be heard from there.” Ivan explained, scratching his cheek in a sheepish manner.  “It’s to the left of the living room.”

His words resonated within me, stirring something deep inside. Overwhelmed once again, I found myself at a loss for how to respond, left only to meet his gaze in helpless silence. In acknowledgement, I nodded, conveying my understanding until I felt composed enough to speak.

"Thank you. I'll take you up on that offer and stay in your room for now,” I said with gratitude. I hesitated for a moment, searching for my next words. “There is a lot to talk about. Let's discuss more later..." I gestured discreetly with my eyes toward the living room, concerned that Dragan might overhear Ivan talking to himself.

Seemingly content with my response, Ivan hummed in acknowledgement, casting one last glance towards me and left the kitchen with a wave of his left hand. My eyes instinctively fixated on his hand, and I remembered my confusion from earlier. In all the chaos I had completely forgotten about this. What was up with that tattoo? 

As one of the strongest mages, Ivan possessed numerous spells and tricks, but just like everyone else, he was bound by one of the fundamental laws of this world: equivalent exchange. Being a mage meant sacrificing something to cast spells. Most of Ivan's combat spells required him to expend his "mana," similar to the concept of magic points (MP) in RPG games. With years of experience, Ivan had built up a substantial mana pool, allowing him to cast many spells effortlessly. However, prolonged and intensive spellcasting took its toll on his body, making it a dangerous aspect of this world's equivalent exchange.

Before I had read about it, I had often wondered what would happen to someone who ran out of mana. There were accounts of mages losing memories, experiencing nosebleeds, and suffering internal bleeding due to overusing magic. To circumvent some of these risks, Ivan had developed a unique method of casting spells using magical tattoos created from rare ingredients. These tattoos served as the payment for his spell costs, enabling him to utilize special spells he wouldn't otherwise be able to use. Ivan's combined skills as a mage and a potion maker allowed him to develop this method.

However, there was one problem with this: Ivan had never been described to have one of his magical tattoos on his pinky finger. The tattoos he used in battles for offensive spells would fade after a certain usage count was reached, so this particular one had to be special. What was its purpose?

I was getting overboard again.

Overthinking had become an ingrained habit that I needed to shed as soon as possible. It was clearly obvious that more surprising facts would come my way, and I had to learn to adapt and navigate through them without losing myself to every little ‘inconsistency’. 

From the living room, the muted voices of Ivan and Dragan reached my ears. This time, their laughter didn't leave me feeling lonely.