Acceptance

"..... up."

"...ke up."

"WAKE UP!"

Elijah woke up abruptly, his heart pounding as the echoes of distant whispers calling him to wake up faded into the background. His head throbbed painfully, and he felt disoriented, struggling to piece together what had happened.

"What the fuck?" His voice, hoarse and unfamiliar, escaped his lips. 

The ache in his head persisted, gnawing at his ability to think clearly. As the haze in his mind began to clear, the room around him slowly came into focus—a dark, archaic chamber filled with heavy wooden furniture, thick tapestries, and the flickering glow of candlelight. The scent of aged wood mingled with something metallic in the air. Elijah's breath quickened as he tried to move, only to realize that his body felt… different. His limbs were longer, and his muscles more defined.

He raised his hands to his face and froze. These hands… they weren't his. They were larger, and rougher, as though they belonged to someone who had lived a much harder life. His heart raced, and his mind reeled as he struggled to comprehend what he saw. Slowly, he forced himself to sit up, the heavy quilt slipping off his unfamiliar frame. The room spun briefly before settling, and his gaze fell upon an ornate mirror on the opposite wall.

The reflection that stared back at him made his breath catch. A young man, perhaps eighteen years old, with platinum blonde hair falling in a disheveled mess around sharp, angular features. His blue eyes, wide with shock, were not his own—nor was the silver earring glinting in his left ear. 

'No way. Am I... in someone else's body?' The realization struck him like a sledgehammer. 

"What the hell…?" Elijah muttered, his voice unfamiliar even to his own ears. Panic threatened to overwhelm him, but he forced himself to take deep, steady breaths. He had to think, to understand what had happened.

The whispers… He remembered the strange, urgent voices that had called to him, pulling him from the depths of unconsciousness. But wake up where? And why?

He tried to piece together his fragmented memories. His name was Elijah, a 21st-century 20 year old man who had never known hardship, the son of a millionaire. But now, somehow, he was in the body of this young man and in a place that looked like something out of a medieval fantasy.

"Okay, think," he whispered to himself, trying to stay calm despite the alien sensations bombarding him. But his senses were out of sync. Everything felt wrong, like a dream he couldn't wake up from.

"Am I hallucinating? Did I take something I couldn't handle?" He questioned everything, but no answers came.

All he remembered was partying with friends, indulging in a mix of drinks and drugs, and now… this. It made no sense. None of it made sense.

'I need to figure out where I am, and what the hell is going on.'

He pushed himself to stand, his legs wobbling under the unfamiliar weight, but managed to make his way to the mirror. The face staring back at him was a stranger's, yet there was something unsettlingly familiar about it, like a distant memory just out of reach.

"Aric Oswin," he whispered, the name coming unbidden to his lips. It resonated within him, as though it belonged to the very body he now inhabited. But how did he know that name? And why did it feel so… natural?

The moment he spoke the name, a sharp pain shot through his head. His mind was assaulted by a torrent of memories that weren't his own—flashes of another life, another identity. He stood frozen, unable to move, as the memories forced their way into his consciousness. After what felt like an eternity, the pain subsided, leaving him gasping for breath. The memories were there, imprinted in his mind, yet locked away, inaccessible, as if something was preventing him from recalling them fully.

Though still disoriented, Elijah—or Aric, as he now seemed to be—began to examine his surroundings more closely. The room was clearly one of wealth and status, judging by the richness of the furnishings and the ornate design of the bed and dresser. Books were piled on a nearby table, along with a few odd trinkets and what appeared to be a small, intricately designed chest.

Before he could investigate further, a soft knock at the door startled him. Elijah stiffened, unsure how to respond. He wasn't prepared to interact with anyone in this strange new world, especially not when he didn't even know who he was supposed to be.

The door creaked open, and a young maid entered, her head bowed respectfully. "Young Master Aric," she said quietly, her voice laced with concern. "Are you feeling better? You've been unconscious for hours…"

Elijah's mind raced, but he forced himself to nod, mimicking the behavior he thought a noble's son might display. "I… I'm fine," he managed to say, his voice strained but steady. "Just… a bit disoriented."

The maid looked relieved, though her anxiety lingered in her eyes. "Your father was worried. He wanted to see you as soon as you awoke. Shall I fetch him?"

Elijah—or Aric—hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Yes, please."

As the maid left to inform his father, Elijah tried to process what little he knew. He was in the body of Aric Oswin, a young noble of some sort, and this place was clearly not his own time. He didn't know how or why this had happened, but one thing was clear: he needed answers, and fast.

...

The door creaked open again, and this time a man entered. He was tall, with an imposing presence that matched the stern expression on his face. His dark hair was streaked with silver, and his sharp blue eyes—eerily similar to the ones Elijah had seen in the mirror—bore into him with a mixture of concern and authority. He was dressed in finely made clothes that spoke of wealth and status, a dark cloak draped over his broad shoulders.

"Aric," the man's voice was deep, carrying a weight that made Elijah tense. "You've had us all worried. What happened?"

Elijah struggled to respond, the foreign memories and emotions swirling in his mind making it difficult to act naturally. He knew he couldn't let on that he wasn't really Aric, but the thought of pretending to be someone else, especially in front of this man, was daunting.

"I… I'm not sure, Father," Elijah replied, forcing himself to speak slowly and carefully. The word "Father" felt strange on his tongue, but he hoped it sounded convincing. "Everything's a bit hazy. I remember… feeling strange, and then… nothing."

The man's expression softened slightly, though the concern in his eyes remained. "You collapsed after touching the relic."

"Relic…?" Elijah echoed, his mind racing to keep up with this unexpected revelation.

The man nodded, his expression grave. "You don't remember....? Well let's just take it slow for now. Yes, the Oswin family relic. It's been in our family for generations. I didn't expect it to affect you so strongly. Perhaps it's a sign…"

"A sign…?" Elijah's confusion deepened. The relic, the sudden memories, the strange body—none of it added up.

The man studied him for a moment before nodding slowly. "We shall discuss this further. For now, rest. You've been through a lot."

Elijah nodded, though his mind was anything but at rest. As the man—his supposed father—left the room, Elijah felt a growing sense of unease. Something was at play here, something far beyond his understanding. And until he could figure out what it was, he would have to live as Aric Oswin.

"Fuck..."

...

Now that I think about it, the whispers that woke me up, seemed to have originated from somewhere else and not my room as it was empty with only me lying on the bed.

This situation is like one of those novels or webtoons where the MC gets transmigrated into another world he takes over someone else's body, which is exactly what I am experiencing right now.

'This just doesn't make any fucking sense, no matter how many times I think it through.'

"I need to go out and get to know more about where I am, I know nothing about this world."

I left the room to only be met by a grand hallway.

"Okay yeah, where the hell is the exit to this place." This place was 10 times bigger than my mansion from my previous life, I thought that was huge but it's nothing compared to this.

I looked on both sides, the endless corridors stretching out before me, lined with heavy wooden doors, each one adorned with intricate carvings. The walls were made of cold, rough-hewn stone, and the floors beneath my feet were solid slabs, worn smooth over centuries of use.

The flickering light from iron sconces cast long, wavering shadows, adding to the ominous feel of the place. Everything was steeped in an ancient grandeur, a far cry from anything I'd ever known.

Tapestries depicting scenes of battles, ancient symbols, and what I assumed were Oswin family legends adorned the walls, each one a piece of history I had no memory of.

"Alright, just pick a direction," I muttered to myself, choosing the left hallway.

As I walked, I tried to focus on any details that might help me understand this world. The air was cool, carrying a faint scent of something floral, and the quietness of the place was unsettling. The memories I had of Aric's life were still fragmented, offering only glimpses of information that felt more like a dream than reality.

After what felt like an eternity, I finally reached a set of large double doors. They were intricately carved with patterns that looked like vines wrapping around a pair of crossed swords. I hesitated, wondering if I should turn back, but curiosity—and the need for answers—pushed me forward.

I pushed the doors open to one of the rooms which stood out, stepping into what appeared to be a grand sitting room. The room was just as lavish as the rest of the estate, with plush furniture, a large fireplace, and floor-to-ceiling windows that let in streams of sunlight. The warmth of the room contrasted sharply with the cold hallway, making it feel more welcoming.

Before I could take in more of my surroundings, a voice called out, startling me.

"Aric, is that you?" Her voice was soft, laced with warmth and a hint of concern.

I turned toward the sound, my gaze falling on a young woman standing by one of the tall windows. She was strikingly elegant, with long dark hair cascading over her shoulders, and she wore a dress that mirrored the deep blue of the sky beyond the glass. Her grey eyes, though gentle, seemed devoid of focus—she wasn't looking directly at me but rather in my general direction. It took me a moment to realize: she was blind. Something about her stirred a familiarity within me, a distant echo of a memory just out of reach.

"Yes, it's me," I replied, careful to keep my voice steady. "I was just… exploring."

The woman's smile widened, but there was a lingering sadness in her expression. "You should be resting. After what happened, we were all so worried. But I'm relieved to see you up and about."

I nodded, unsure of what to say. Every word felt like a step on a narrow ledge, one misstep away from a fall. "I just needed some air," I offered, the words feeling hollow in my mouth.

With a grace that seemed at odds with her blindness, she moved toward me, her steps careful yet fluid. Her dark hair swayed with her movements, the deep blue of her dress emphasizing the paleness of her skin. As she approached, a pang of guilt twisted in my chest—this woman clearly loved Aric, and I was nothing more than an imposter in his body.

When she reached me, she lightly touched my arm, her fingers barely brushing the fabric of my sleeve. The moment she made contact, my mind went blank, and a flood of memories surged forward—images of me, or rather Aric, growing up with her. "Elder sister… Liora," I whispered, the name slipping from my lips unbidden.

"I know things have been difficult lately," she said softly, her voice filled with genuine concern, pulling me back to the present. "But we'll get through this together. You don't have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders alone."

I swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. Her kindness was overwhelming, and it sparked an ache in my chest—not just for her, but for the real Aric, who was clearly cherished by those around him.

"I… I know," I managed, my voice trembling slightly. "I'll do my best."

Her smile was gentle, though the sadness in her eyes remained. "That's all anyone can ask of you. Just remember, you have people who care about you. I care about you, Aric."

I nodded, feeling the weight of her words settle heavily on me. This woman—my supposed sister—was offering me her unwavering support, and all I could think about was the deception I was living. I wanted to reassure her, to tell her everything, but the truth lodged itself in my throat, refusing to emerge. Instead, I placed my hand gently over hers, hoping the gesture would convey what I couldn't say aloud.

She responded by squeezing my hand lightly, as if she understood the turmoil I was feeling. "Come, sit with me for a while," she suggested, guiding me toward one of the plush couches by the fireplace. "We can talk, or just sit in silence. Whatever you need."

I followed her lead, sitting down beside her. The warmth of the fire was comforting, and for a brief moment, I allowed myself to relax, the tension in my body easing slightly.

As we sat there in the quiet room, side by side, I couldn't shake the deep sense of responsibility that was beginning to take root within me. Liora had lost her brother, even if she didn't know it, and here I was, a stranger inhabiting his body. I didn't know how long I could keep up the charade, but as I sat beside her, feeling her trust and warmth, I silently vowed to do my best to be the brother she needed, even if I wasn't truly Aric Oswin.

"Thank you… sister," I said softly, the word feeling a little less foreign, a little more real.

Liora smiled again, her expression full of quiet understanding. "Always, Aric. Always."

...

Two weeks have passed since I was thrust into this world, and I've had no choice but to accept the reality of my situation. This isn't a hallucination—I'm really stuck here, in a body that isn't mine.

In these two weeks, I've been trying to learn as much as I can about this life—about Aric Oswin. The memories in my head are sealed, but they unlock at certain moments, revealing fragments of his past.

I still haven't found any written information on the family relic, which makes sense since it's taboo to document such things. The details about it are passed down verbally, taught only to descendants by the head of the family to prevent sensitive information from circulating.

"I'll need to ask Elder Sister Liora about this…" I muttered to myself, feeling a heavy sigh escape my lips.

"We call upon you." "We call upon you." "We call upon you." Suddenly, a series of whispers echoed in my head, growing louder with each repetition.

"What the fuck!?"

I was startled, panic gripping me as I tried to make sense of what was happening. But before I could react, my body began to collapse, and my consciousness started to fade.

'I'm too tired of this bullshit… Just let me rest.'

**Thud**

Aric's body fell to the ground, leaving everything in darkness.

...