Chapter 2: Transmigrators
4th November 1352
Intis Republic, Riston Province, Bigorre City, L'Abstinence
-Angel Leblanc-
The boy had moved to a corner table near the back wall, and Angel, of course, followed without a word. How could she not, after being exposed barely four days into her transmigration?—She had a rather nosy friend back in secondary school to thank for that, someone who'd explained the concept at length during lunch breaks whether you wanted to hear it or not—Of course, the exposure wasn't without its merits; he'd exposed himself too as a result. For only someone from the modern era would know River Flows in You.
Or maybe the piece already exists in this world? In the three days she'd spent in this world, Angel had managed to grasp the broad strokes of its layout—the continents, the kingdoms, and most importantly, information regarding Emperor Roselle Gustav.
She'd learned of his inventions: the steam train, the tall chef's hat, the concept of shares, tarot cards, the toilet and sewer system, and more. She'd encountered his sayings: 'Chaos is a staircase that leads one up,' 'All roads lead to Trier,' 'A single coincidence is encountered by anyone. Twice is still normal. Thrice is when one should consider what internal factors are influencing those coincidences.'
Even an idiot could put two and two together and realize the Emperor was an Earthling. So perhaps he had also plagiarised River Flows in You? But that then begged the question of why the patrons in the bar hadn't recognised it before she played.
Angel refocused her attention on the teen. He looked young—maybe fifteen, sixteen at most, judging by the softness of his face that still carried youthfulness. His hair was short and his eyes bright like the blue sky, and glancing at his arms, she could tell he was quite built for his age.
He hadn't said anything after they'd taken their seats—not even his name—simply taking sips of his fennel absinthe and watching her over the rim of his glass with a smile.
Angel decided to break the silence, asking straightforwardly, "Have you heard of Europe, America, or Asia?"
In response to her question, the blue-eyed boy raised an eyebrow, his smile still remaining as he said, "So you're European?"
Angel's hand, which had been bringing her cup to her mouth, stilled as she realized her mistake. However, his words also confirmed that yes, he was also from Earth.
"Do you know English?"
The sudden question snapped her from her shock, her gold eyes meeting his blue ones. There was a depth there that didn't match his youthful face.
"I do," she replied in English, offering an affirming nod, deciding to treat him as an adult rather than the youth he appeared to be.
"That's good." He placed his empty cup on the table, continuing, "The undercurrents of this world are not as peaceful as they seem. A Chinese saying fits quite well to describe it: 'Still waters run deep." The smile on his face had vanished, replaced by a grim expression.
Angel's expression tightened at the raven-haired boy's words, her eyes narrowing at him. "How long have you been in this world? Why are you telling me this?"
The warning had come too suddenly. One moment he was smiling over a glass of absinthe, relaxed enough to seem harmless, and the next he was talking about undercurrents and the dangers of the world. It wasn't eased by the fact that they had just confirmed each other as Earthlings. Back on Earth, that alone wouldn't have meant trust. If anything, it was quite the opposite.
Stranger danger wasn't some fringe concept where she came from. It was normal. Expected. You didn't spill your fears or your secrets to someone just because they spoke your language or shared your origin. You especially didn't accept warnings without questioning the motive behind them. Concern could be genuine, but it could just as easily be a hook.
And more importantly... this wasn't Earth anymore.
She wasn't in her apartment on the third floor of a walk-up in some city anymore. She wasn't waking up to a piano in the corner of a living room anymore. Nor were there those Tuesday afternoons at a music shop two blocks from work anymore.
Laws existed here, yes, but they were not absolute in the way modern laws pretended to be. The supernatural trampled over them entirely.
She herself was proof of that.
Angel—the real Angel, the one who'd owned this body before—had been a young woman from a village in Riston Province, heading to the capital for work. She'd saved for months, said goodbye to her family, and boarded a carriage.
Somewhere on the road, she'd stopped and eaten something she shouldn't have.
The memories of that meal were fragmented, slippery, but the feeling of it lingered: chewing through something that moved against her teeth, that writhed even as she swallowed, that seemed to reach inside her as it went down. Angel had died in the middle of nowhere, convulsing, alone, while whatever she'd ingested finished its work.
And then she—Emilia Adler, a session musician—had opened her eyes in a body that wasn't hers, choking on the last traces of something impossible.
That was four days ago.
In those four days, she'd realized what her newfound abilities entailed: supernatural strength, agility that defied logic, instinctive mastery of weapons and combat.
"I didn't introduce myself, did I?" The young man's voice halted her racing thoughts. "Lumian. Lumian Lee. Today marks my fourth day of waking up in this world."
The same as me, huh? Angel kept this observation to herself for now, ensuring she didn't make the same mistake as before. At the same time, she once again suspected her transmigration was not as straightforward as it seemed. The only thing that came to mind as potentially responsible was a music sheet she'd bought on a Thursday.
An ordinary Thursday, an ordinary shop, an ordinary stack of sheet music in a bin near the counter marked "Vintage/Rare." The paper had felt wrong in her hands—too smooth, too cold—and the notation hadn't made sense when she'd tried to read it, symbols that shifted when she looked directly at them.
She'd paid anyway. Three euros for something that had caught her attention for reasons she couldn't explain.
That night, she'd spread it on her piano's music stand, puzzled over the impossible notation, touched her fingers to the keys—
And then she was somewhere else. Someone else. Gasping on a dirty floor with a dead woman's memories flooding her skull and a taste in her mouth that she'd spent the past three days trying to forget by drinking alcohol.
"I want you."
The sudden bold words pulled Angel back into the present, as she realized Lumian was responding to her question.
"…You want me?" Angel echoed his words, her brows creasing at the phrasing that seemed to objectify her. Yet before she could say anything, Lumian's following words sent a chill down her spine.
"I know you have superpowers—"
So he wants to use me for my powers—
"—And so do I."
Her spiralling assumptions ground to an immediate halt, her eyes widening in shock. But he seemed unconcerned with her reaction as he continued speaking.
"Don't be so surprised. We're not exceptions, thousands of people like us exist, and we're called Beyonders. Beyonders refers to sentient beings who wield mystical abilities, advancing to higher Sequences through certain means along a Pathway. There are multiple Pathways for Beyonders to take, all beginning at Sequence 9. My Pathway is the Red Priest pathway, and I'm currently a Sequence 9: Hunter, whereas you, Angel, are a Sequence 9: Warrior from the Twilight Giant pathway." The young man summarised smoothly.
Beyonders. Pathways. Sequences. Warrior. Twilight Giant. Angel's mind buzzed with the new concepts. Ultimately, though, she asked, "You want me for my strength?"
More than a question, it was a statement.
Lumian nodded, speaking frankly. "Forgive me if I'm too blunt, but I'm not interested in you right now, rather, what you can become, your strength later on." He paused for a moment in consideration, looking as if weighing something before coming to a decision. "But, that doesn't mean the you of right now can't assist me in some way. As I said before, my pathway is Red Priest. This pathway is related to the concept of 'War,' and consequently, army. To reach higher sequences, you need to perform rituals for certain advancements, and one such ritual for me is to form a team, build a close friendship with them, and help them grow stronger. That is why I want you. I want to complete my ritual, and you get stronger. It's a win-win situation for you, as our friendship can't be fake for the ritual to succeed."
Angel absorbed the information, and after a moment, she pointed out the elephant in the room. "For someone who has only been in this world for four days, you know a lot." He likely knew—or could even guess—that she too hadn't been here long, as he had confirmed her being at the same level, or Sequence. But that didn't mean she'd volunteer the information outright.
"I was lucky enough to have encountered a book." He gave her a knowing smile before suddenly changing the subject. "To advance Sequences, you consume potions. Potions are made by using a main ingredient and supplementary ingredients. But I will warn you: the path of a Beyonder is filled with madness, death, and chaos. If you decide to advance to higher sequences, you will inevitably encounter horrifying events." After saying those words, Lumian rose and made his way toward the door.
As he passed her, he said, "I'm currently staying at Central Traveler's Hotel, Room 484. I'll be leaving Bigorre in three days."
….
I need him more than he needs me, Angel arrived at the conclusion, falling deep into thought about her plans going forward.
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A/N: Shorter chapter this time, and more of an interlude than anything.