Tik-Tok- Tik

"F*cking, bloody F*cking hell! Sh*t! F*ck! Argh!"

‘My eyes! My eyes! Argh!’

Screaming internally, I abruptly bowed my head, instinctively placing my palms in front of my eyes.

Staying in the same position for approximately half a minute, I felt relief washing over my body. The burning sensation gradually disappeared.

Slowly rubbing my eyes, I tried to stand up; however, my limbs seemed to revolt against my will.

They refused to budge, leaving me immobilized and helpless.

‘Ha... I must have transmigrated…’ I chuckled at such a delusional thought which came out of nowhere.

If this were to be a novel, I'd say this is quite a generic start... Quite generic.

I shifted my right palm, placing it on my forehead, slightly massaging it.

Is this what people term as a lucid dream? Why do I feel wet; am I drowning in this dream?

Oh, shit!

Suddenly, my heart sank.

A wet dream?!

Thankfully, my blurred vision slowly cleared, allowing me to see the exact situation. What greeted me was my own reflection somehow tainted crimson.

No... Rather than being tainted crimson, it was more probable that the 'object' reflecting my face was crimson.

Moreover, the subtle pungent smell present here wasn't so subtle anymore.

My eyes swept across the room, which seemed to be relatively simple.

This seemed to be some kind of bathroom, strangely not having many modern tools but weirdly also possessing some objects completely alien to me.

I forced my body up, not caring about the pain anymore. In a flustered manner, I looked around but then forcefully calmed myself in the next second. Panicking was of no use.

I slowly started to regain my senses.

Drip! Drip! Drip!

Tik tok tik

The rhythmical sound of rain, along with the systematic ticking of a watch, made it uncannier. The constant gushing sound of water could be heard, making me guess that the tap's knob in the water basin was turned open.

There was even this pungent metallic smell, similar to that of blood. I wouldn't be too surprised to see a corpse when I turn around to see the rest of the room.

Taking a deep breath, I continued looking around, trailing my eyes, scanning the room.

Though my view was restricted due to the angle at which I was standing, my mind stirred, and I reached out and massaged my throbbing temples.

Dangerously narrowing my eyes, I spotted some crimson liquid lying on the ground. It seemed to be fresh.

This crimson liquid was similar to the one present in the bathtub, which was apparently being used by me.

Not being able to understand what this crimson liquid was, as a result of my splitting headache, I straightened my back, ready to exit the bathtub. Rubbing my eyes, I once again cast my gaze toward that crimson liquid, this time my vision being clear as a result of the disappearance of the splitting headache.

My pupils dilated in horror, as my mouth widened slightly. I started dreading regretting my decision.

Acting upon my instincts, I tried to widen the gap between that crimson liquid and me.

To my horror, I simultaneously once again looked at the bathtub.

'Calm down, calm down, calm down, calm down... Damn it! Fucking calm down!'

Quickly regaining my balance, I carefully walked out of the bathtub. Scared to look in that direction, I tried to walk out of the room.

Nonetheless, something like this couldn't be unseen. Steeling my will, I quickly turned my head. As soon as I did, the first thought that came to my mind was:

Is this a prank?!

I reeled back in fear and disgust at the horrendous sight that greeted me, shaking my soul!

I had a sudden urge to scoff at myself for showing this kind of authentic stupidity.

Did this look like a result of a prank?! What am I even thinking?!

‘It's just a prank bro’ meme continuously reflected in my head.

‘Wait, why is "meme" the first thing to come to my mind? Argh!’

I quickly shook my head, getting rid of such thoughts. Placing my palms in front of my mouth, resisting the urge to puke, I sprinted towards the brown door, nearly losing my balance thrice in the process.

Though the blood on the floor was partially to blame, somehow my body felt unfamiliar. After all, my muscle memory was nothing but a mess.

By now, it was obvious the kind of situation I was stuck in.

A few carefully taken steps later, I arrived near the brown door. However, the washbasin looked more attractive due to the mirror right above it.

Curiously, I glanced at the mirror.

What appeared was as a black-haired figure, with abyssal black eyes that absorbed every bit of light greedily. The figure reflected on the surface of the mirror possessed clear-cut features, with deep lines making me look quite cold.

The figure appeared slightly blurry, with some of his features hidden due to the blood on his face and his shirtless body. A few droplets of blood fell from his moist hair, making him look like a serial killer.

At least there are trousers on.

Yep, blood. Whoever this person is surely loves this thick, sticky liquid.

Walking closer to the mirror, I instinctively turned the tap off in fear of the Divine slippers still etched in my memories from childhood.

Noticing the tiny piece of soap near the basin, I picked it up before turning the knob once again.

The gushing of water once again echoed throughout the place as I applied the soap to my face.

I quickly splashed the water again and again. The cooling sensation brought about by the water with every splash was quite refreshing.

After all that, I again checked myself in the mirror. Thankfully, the blood was fresh. If it had dried, then this would be quite a hassle.

Feeling refreshed and relaxed, I looked at the face once again.

In the illuminated situation created by the moonlight, a face appeared on the mirror.

To me, this was a familiar face. I saw this face every day in the morning, and for some mysterious reason, it also was unfamiliar.

The small amount of hair on his chin and stomach invoked by the society was nowhere to be seen.

The outline shouldn't have been this deep and sharp. Looks shouldn't have been this cold.

Well, for the body...

"Damn." This one single word escaped my mouth, looking at the perfect abs, looking as if they came to life from sculptures.

‘I might as well fall in love with myself!’

I slightly leaned, trying to flex those abs.

"Sigh." Though it had dawned on me a long time ago, now it was official.

I have transmigrated.

I have F*king transmigrated!

"Haaa! F*cking hell! What is this, some cliche novel? Oh, I see! Fate's probably sipping tea with the pinky up, chuckling as it throws me into its own Victorian comedy sketch!"

By the design of the room and the objects placed here, as a lover of classical literature and drama, this indeed seemed to be a Victorian setting.

Wait.

I suddenly paused as it finally dawned upon me. The words spoken by me...

"Hello, English? Monocle? Sword? Shield? Bug? Error?"

With great difficulty, I managed to squeeze out a few words coming in the category of standard English.

With a flick of my wrist, I turned the doorknob. With that, I finally walked out of the bathroom and entered the living room.

The room wasn't too big nor was too small. One could describe it as just above average.

I did what any other sane person would do, scan the environment. There were in total three brown doors on each side of the wall.

Quickly spotting a small bed, seemingly crafted for a single person with bedsheets on it that looked like they would rip apart, judging by the loose threads, I walked towards it.

Almost immediately, an unpleasant expression appeared on my face as a result of walking near it.

That was because of the bed bugs on top of it. They weren't one or two, but legit more than 100 of them, making this look quite disgusting.

If I hadn't seen those dead bodies, then this would have been an unbearable scene.

Right beside the bed stood a cabinet with its two doors ajar, revealing three drawers beneath.

Thankfully, there was a mirror on one of the doors in the cabinet.

In the center of the room sat a sturdy desk made of burly wood, bearing a nameplate that read: {Private Detective. Sebastian Lemonhgrey}

Behind the nameplate on the desk, several notebooks were arranged. Some bore the wear of age, while others appeared freshly bought.

A transparent ink bottle filled with blue ink sat on the desk, with a feather pen partially submerged in it, right next to the nameplate on the left.

To their right, the wall was adorned with grayish-white paint, and lamps were attached. These lamps exuded a classical Victorian flair, about half the size of an adult's head. They featured a transparent glass interior shielded by a black metal grid on the outside.

Inside the lamp, a radiant blue stone burned, emitting pale white flames that illuminated the surroundings.

'Spiritual stones?' The thought sprang to mind, perplexing me.

But in an instant, realization struck, and my eyes widened.

‘This…’

“…”