The sound of rain was the first thing Nolan became aware of.
Soft droplets slid rhythmically against enormous cathedral-style windows somewhere beyond the darkness, their quiet tap-tap-tap blending together into a slow, almost hypnotic melody that filled the sacred silence of the room.
Every few moments, the wind outside shifted slightly, causing the rainfall to strike the glass at a different angle—pat-pat-patter—before gradually settling once more into a calm, steady rhythm.
The atmosphere felt peaceful. Too peaceful.
For several long moments, Nolan simply remained motionless beneath the heavy blankets covering his body, golden eyes staring silently upward while faint amber mana-light flickered gently across the ceiling above him.
The dim glow came from a row of crystal lamps positioned carefully throughout the room, each one burning with a soft radiance that painted warm reflections across polished wooden floors and elegant white-gold walls carved with delicate religious motifs.
The room itself was large enough to belong to nobility, though the aesthetic carried a noticeably different atmosphere from the extravagant arrogance often associated with aristocratic luxury.
Nothing here felt excessive or vulgar.
The furnishings were expensive but refined.
The polished wooden desk near the tall windows remained neatly organized, stacked with carefully arranged books and sacred texts beneath the faint glow of a floating mana crystal.
White curtains embroidered with golden thread shifted gently whenever cold night air drifted through the slightly opened windows, carrying with it the scent of rain-soaked stone from the Holy Territory beyond.
The quiet serenity surrounding the chamber should have felt comforting. After all, Nolan had spent most of his life within the church's grounds.
And yet, something felt wrong. Not within the room, but within himself.
The sensation was difficult to describe properly. It wasn't physical pain. No ache lingered in his muscles. No fever burned beneath his skin. His body itself felt perfectly healthy.
But somewhere deep inside his mind, an unnatural heaviness lingered stubbornly beneath every thought like invisible cracks spreading silently beneath smooth glass.
Nolan's brows furrowed faintly.
"Haa…"
A slow breath escaped his lips.
The warmth trapped beneath the blankets pressed softly against his skin while the cold night breeze drifting through the room brushed lightly across his face and exposed neck, creating a strangely vivid contrast between warmth and chill.
Every sensation felt unusually sharp to him right now.
The steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The softness of fabric against skin. The distant sound of rain beyond the windows.
As though he had only just remembered what it meant to exist physically.
The thought itself felt strange.
Nolan blinked slowly.
For a brief moment, confusion flickered across his expression.
Why would he even think something like that?
His gaze remained fixed toward the dark ceiling overhead while silence stretched quietly through the room once more.
Somewhere outside, distant church bells echoed faintly through the rainy night—gong… gong…—before gradually fading into the storm.
The familiar sound should have grounded him immediately.
Instead, the moment the bells reached his ears, a violent flash of unfamiliar imagery suddenly exploded across his mind.
Bright neon lights illuminating endless streets beneath a dark sky.
Strange metallic vehicles which emitted gases, racing through crowded roads.
Thousands of people moving endlessly beneath glowing signs written in a language Nolan had never seen before.
The memory vanished instantly.
Nolan's body tensed slightly beneath the blankets, his heartbeat quickened.
"…What?"
The quiet murmur escaped instinctively.
For several seconds, he simply stared forward silently while his thoughts struggled to process what he had just seen.
The images had disappeared almost as quickly as they appeared, yet the vividness lingering behind them felt disturbingly real.
He could still remember the overwhelming brightness of those unfamiliar streets.
It hadn't felt like imagination. Nor did it feel like an ordinary dream.
Before Nolan could think further, another fragment surfaced abruptly.
This time, the perspective changed.
A small dark room illuminated only by the pale blue glow of a screen positioned directly ahead.
The memory carried strange sensory details alongside the visuals — the faint hum of electronics, the stale warmth of enclosed air, the scent of instant food and unwashed fabric lingering faintly throughout the cramped space.
A figure sat slouched carelessly before the glowing screen for hours beneath the darkness.
Watching.
Scrolling endlessly.
Eating.
The emotional residue attached to the memory unsettled Nolan far more than the imagery itself.
Loneliness.
Aimlessness.
And desire.
An endless hunger for distraction constantly clawing through the edges of someone's thoughts.
The memory disappeared.
Nolan slowly pushed himself upright against the bed, golden hair falling loosely around his shoulders while the blankets shifted softly around his waist.
His expression remained calm outwardly, but unease had already begun spreading quietly beneath that composure.
Those weren't dreams.
The realization surfaced instinctively.
Dreams didn't possess that kind of detail. Dreams lacked continuity, emotion, and weight.
But these… They felt real enough to belong to another life entirely.
A faint pressure formed behind Nolan's eyes as he raised one hand slowly toward his forehead. The moment his thoughts focused inward again, however, another violent fragment surfaced immediately.
This one made him freeze completely.
A woman's trembling breath. Soft skin exposed beneath dim lighting. A body pinned helplessly against a wall while rough hands slid shamelessly beneath loosened clothing. Heated kisses trailing slowly across a flushed neck while breathless moans escaped trembling lips between broken gasps.
Nolan's eyes widened slightly. The memory vanished.
Warmth spread instantly across his face. "…W-What the hell was that?"
This time, genuine confusion slipped into his voice. The emotions attached to the memory lingered unpleasantly inside him long after the images disappeared. Desire stripped completely free of restraint. Raw physical hunger so intense it almost felt invasive.
Another fragment surfaced before Nolan could properly recover.
Women wearing absurdly revealing clothing moving across glowing screens while endless streams of comments scrolled rapidly beneath them. Lewd jokes. Explicit remarks. Shameless lust displayed with such casual openness that Nolan instinctively looked away despite the fact that the images existed entirely inside his own mind.
His chest tightened strangely. Embarrassment mixed awkwardly with reluctant fascination. Because despite how vulgar those thoughts felt… Part of him remained curious. The realization only made the discomfort worse.
Nolan exhaled slowly while lowering his gaze toward the blankets gathered around his waist. The warmth spreading faintly through his body felt deeply irritating precisely because it didn't fully belong to him.
Beneath the blankets, his cock had already stiffened noticeably, throbbing with unwelcome heat. The shaft curved gently upward in a smooth, pronounced arc, the sensitive head pressing firmly against the fabric of his sleeping pants and leaving a small damp spot where precum had begun to leak. He could feel every twitch and pulse as blood rushed into the thick, veined length.
"Damn it…" he muttered, cheeks burning hotter.
The emotions attached to those memories carried a shameless intensity completely unlike his own restrained temperament.
Within the Church, attraction and relationships were not forbidden.
The Holy Territory, Sacred Land of Divinia, itself was not some emotionally repressed prison where desire was treated as sin.
Yet discipline, restraint, and dignity had always existed naturally within the environment Nolan grew up in.
These foreign memories possessed none of that restraint. Everything felt excessive and hungry. Almost disturbingly honest.
Another brief fragment surfaced unexpectedly.
Silver hair spilling across dark sheets. Cold blue eyes trembling with humiliation beneath heated desire while someone leaned over her possessively.
Nolan immediately frowned. His pulse skipped strangely.
"…Enough."
The quiet mutter carried faint irritation now. Unfortunately, his body reacted far less calmly than his voice did.
His cock twitched hard beneath the blankets, the thick shaft jumping visibly and pressing even more insistently against the thin fabric.
Another bead of precum soaked through as the image of proud, icy, and broken woman, refused to fade.
The mental picture grew sharper: her silver hair dishevelled, gown torn open, full breasts heaving as she failed to maintain that haughty glare while her body betrayed her with wet, needy sounds.
Nolan's breathing grew heavier. Frustration and unwanted arousal warred inside him.
"These aren't mine… stop it…" he muttered in embarrassment, voice low and strained.
His hand moved almost on its own, slipping beneath the blankets and wrapping around the hard length. The moment his fingers closed around it, a sharp jolt of pleasure shot up his spine.
He bit his lip, golden eyes narrowing in irritation at his own body's betrayal. "Just… once. To clear my head."
Gripping his dick, he began stroking slowly at first, then faster, the lewd shlick-shlick sound barely audible beneath the rain outside.
His mind unwillingly drifted back to that final image — the woman's trembling cold blue eyes, her proud voice cracking into desperate moans. The fantasy sharpened cruelly. He saw her thighs quivering, her icy pride melting as she clenched around him.
"Oh…"
It didn't take long. With a quiet, frustrated groan, Nolan came hard.
The cum spilled over his fist and onto his toned abdomen, the curved dick pulsing rhythmically in his grip as waves of unwanted pleasure crashed through him.
His golden eyes fluttered half-closed for a moment before snapping open again in embarrassment.
He exhaled shakily, staring at the mess on his hand and stomach with a mix of disgust and lingering heat.
Then, using a tissue from the bedside table, he wiped himself quickly and threw it into the dustbin.
…
Nolan sat quietly against the bed while the mana lamps continued flickering softly around him, their golden glow illuminating the elegant room in warm shifting light.
Yet inside his own thoughts, confusion continued spreading steadily.
The fragmented memories were becoming increasingly difficult to dismiss.
At first, he had considered the possibility of vivid dreams caused by exhaustion or mental instability after some forgotten incident.
But dreams did not possess this level of sensory detail. Nor did dreams carry emotional residue powerful enough to linger after waking.
'No…'
'These memories belonged to someone.'
The realization settled heavily inside his chest.
Slowly, Nolan closed his eyes while attempting to organize his thoughts more carefully.
The moment he did, more foreign fragments surfaced immediately.
Nolan frowned slightly.
Some concepts felt incomprehensible.
Others felt disturbingly close to things already existing within Astralis through mana technology.
That realization unsettled him deeply.
Because despite the technological differences, the foreign world no longer felt entirely impossible.
Astralis itself possessed floating cities, magical transportation systems, advanced healing arts, mana-engineered infrastructure, and communication constructs capable of transmitting information across distances instantly.
The foreign memories lacked mana entirely, yet somehow that world had still developed in its own bizarre direction.
The atmosphere, however, felt fundamentally different, and that was what disturbed Nolan most.
The foreign memories carried overwhelming emotional noise.
Constant stimulation.
Constant distraction.
Constant consumption.
As though the entire world existed solely to keep people entertained endlessly.
And somewhere buried beneath all of it, Nolan could still feel traces of the person those memories belonged to.
Greed.
Arrogance.
Selfishness.
Desire.
The emotional residue lingering behind the memories felt disturbing.
Nolan slowly opened his eyes again.
The rain outside continued falling softly against the cathedral windows while silence filled the sacred residence once more.
Then, another fragment surfaced quietly.
This time, the memory belonged to him.
Young people dressed in white church training uniforms standing beneath enormous cathedral ceilings while instructors moved calmly between them correcting posture and breathing techniques.
Sunlight pouring through stained-glass windows. Sacred chants echoing softly through vast marble halls.
Relief flickered faintly through Nolan at the familiarity.
These were his memories, not someone else's.
Another followed shortly afterward.
His exhausting martial exercises repeated endlessly beneath the watchful eyes of combat instructors.
Wooden practice weapons colliding sharply—crack-crack—inside enormous training grounds while bruised muscles screamed beneath heavy physical conditioning.
Long lectures regarding healing arts, the natural elements, Light affinity, sacred doctrine, and discipline.
Those memories grounded him slightly.
Yet even then, the foreign thoughts still lingered stubbornly in the background like ghosts refusing to disappear.