Lord of Mysteries

Chapter 1 Crimson

pain!

it hurts!

My head hurts so much!

The bizarre and whispering dream quickly shattered. Zhou Mingrui, fast asleep, felt an unusual throbbing pain in his head, as if he had been hit hard with a stick, no, more like a sharp object had been stabbed into his temple and was being stirred!

Hiss... In a daze, Zhou Mingrui tried to turn over, to cover his head, to sit up, but he couldn't move his hands and feet at all; his body seemed to have lost control.

It seems I haven't truly woken up yet, I'm still dreaming... I might even find myself thinking I'm awake when I'm actually still asleep... Zhou Mingrui, who is no stranger to similar experiences, tried his best to concentrate his will in order to completely break free from the shackles of darkness and hallucination.

However, when he was half asleep and half awake, his will was always as fleeting as smoke, difficult to control and gather. No matter how hard he tried, he still couldn't help but let his thoughts wander and random ideas emerge.

Why would I suddenly have a headache in the middle of the night?

It still hurts so much!

Could it be a brain hemorrhage or something?

Oh no, am I going to die young like this?

Wake up! Wake up!

Hmm, it doesn't hurt as much as before? But it still feels like a dull knife is slowly cutting into my brain...

Looks like I can't sleep anymore. How am I going to go to work tomorrow?

Why even think about going to work? If you have a real headache, of course you should take a day off! Don't worry about the manager nagging!

Thinking about it this way, it doesn't seem so bad, hehe, stealing half a day of leisure from a busy life!

Waves of throbbing pain gradually built up Zhou Mingrui's illusory strength. Finally, he straightened his back and opened his eyes, completely shaking off his half-asleep state.

His vision blurred at first, then turned a faint crimson. In front of him was a desk made of natural wood. In the center was an open notebook with rough, yellowed paper. A sentence was written in strange alphabetic script, with dark black ink that was strikingly clear.

To the left of the notebook, near the edge of the table, is a neat stack of books, about seven or eight in total. To their right, on the wall, are gray-white pipes and wall lamps connected to the pipes.

This lamp has a very Western classical style. It is about half the size of an adult's head. The inner layer is transparent glass, and the outside is surrounded by a grid of black metal.

Below the extinguished wall lamp, a black ink bottle is bathed in a pale red glow, its embossed surface forming a blurry angel pattern.

Before the ink bottle, to the right of the notebook, a dark-colored fountain pen with a rounded belly rests quietly, its nib gleaming faintly, its cap resting next to a brass-colored revolver.

A pistol? A revolver? Zhou Mingrui was completely stunned. The things he saw were so unfamiliar, bearing no resemblance whatsoever to his own room!

While he was still in shock and confusion, he noticed that the desk, notebook, ink bottle, and revolver were all covered with a layer of crimson "veil," which was the light shining in from outside the window.

Subconsciously, he raised his head, his gaze slowly moving upwards:

In mid-air, above the black "velvet curtain," a crimson full moon hangs high, shining serenely.

This... Zhou Mingrui was terrified and stood up abruptly, but before his legs could fully straighten, a sharp pain shot through his head, causing him to lose his strength briefly. His center of gravity involuntarily dropped, and his buttocks slammed hard against the hardwood chair.

Snapped!

The pain had no effect. Zhou Mingrui pressed his hand on the table, stood up again, and turned around in a panic to look at his surroundings.

This is a small room with a brown door on each side and a wooden bunk bed right next to the opposite wall.

There is a cabinet between it and the left door, with a double-opening top and five drawers below.

At the edge of the cabinet, about the height of a person, there are also gray-white pipes embedded in the wall, but they are connected to a strange mechanical device, with gears and bearings exposed in some places.

Near the desk, in the right corner, there was a pile of something that looked like a coal stove, as well as kitchen utensils such as soup pots and iron pots.

Beyond the right door is a full-length mirror with two cracks, its wooden base featuring a simple and unadorned pattern.

With a quick glance, Zhou Mingrui vaguely saw himself in the mirror, his current self:

Black hair, brown eyes, wearing a linen shirt, slender build, ordinary features, and relatively deep facial contours...

This… Zhou Mingrui gasped, a flurry of helpless and confused guesses flooding his mind.

The revolver, the classic European and American style decor, and the crimson moon so different from Earth's—all of these point to a certain event!

"I... I haven't time-traveled, have I?" Zhou Mingrui's mouth opened slowly.

He grew up reading online novels and often fantasized about this, but when he actually encountered it, he found it hard to accept.

This is probably what they call "Lord Ye's love of dragons"? After a few dozen seconds, Zhou Mingrui made a self-deprecating joke.

If it weren't for the lingering headache that kept his mind sharp and clear, he would have definitely doubted that he was dreaming.

Calm down, calm down, calm down... Zhou Mingrui took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself down.

Just then, as his mind and body came into harmony, fragments of memories suddenly popped up and slowly appeared in his mind!

Klein Moretti, a native of Tingen City, Ahova County, Kingdom of Loen in the Northern Continent, is a recent graduate of the History Department at Hoy University...

Klein's father was a Royal Army sergeant who died in the colonial conflict in the South. The pension he received gave him the opportunity to attend a private grammar school, laying the foundation for his university entrance exams...

Klein's mother was a follower of the goddess of night and passed away the year Klein passed the entrance exam for Hoy University...

There is also an older brother and a younger sister, who live together in a two-bedroom apartment...

The family is not wealthy, in fact, they are struggling financially, and currently they rely entirely on their older brother, who works as a clerk in an import-export company, to make ends meet...

As a history graduate, Klein was proficient in the ancient Fusak language, which is said to be the source of the writing systems of the northern continent, as well as Hermes, a script frequently found in ancient tombs and associated with sacrifices and prayers...

Hermes? Zhou Mingrui's heart skipped a beat. He pressed his hand to his throbbing temples and turned his gaze to the notebook spread out on the desk. He felt that the words on the yellowed paper went from strange to unfamiliar, from unfamiliar to familiar, and from familiar to decipherable.

These are words written in Hermes!

The deep, dark ink seemed to say this:

"Everyone will die, including me."

Hiss! Zhou Mingrui was inexplicably terrified, his body instinctively leaning back, trying to distance himself from the notebook and the line of text.

He was very weak and almost fell. He hurriedly reached out and pressed down on the edge of the table. He felt the air around him become restless, and he could vaguely hear a soft murmur echoing in his ears, giving him the feeling of listening to his elders tell scary stories when he was a child.

Shaking his head, realizing it was all an illusion, Zhou Mingrui regained his balance, looked away from his notebook, and gasped for breath.

At that moment, his gaze fell on the revolver that gleamed with the luster of brass, and a question suddenly popped into his mind.

"Given Klein's family background, where would he get the money and connections to buy a handgun?" Zhou Mingrui frowned.

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

Those are bloody handprints!

"A bloody handprint?" Zhou Mingrui subconsciously flipped over his right hand, which had been pressing against the edge of the table, and looked down to see that his palm and fingers were covered in blood.

At the same time, the throbbing pain in his head continued, though it had slightly subsided, it was still persistent.

"I hope he didn't hit his head?" Zhou Mingrui wondered as he turned around and walked toward the cracked dressing mirror.

A few steps later, a figure of medium build, with black hair and brown eyes, and a distinctly scholarly air, came into clear view.

Is this who I am now, Klein Moretti?

Zhou Mingrui paused for a moment, because the light was not bright enough in the middle of the night and he could not see clearly, so he continued forward until he was just one step away from hitting the mirror.

Bathed in the soft, crimson moonlight, he turned his head to check the condition of his forehead.

The mirror, reflecting clearly, showed a gruesome wound on his temple, its edges marked with burns and surrounded by blood.

(End of this chapter)