Foggy Memories

It was April 28.

Riley's eyes fluttered open, slowly adjusting to the dim, amber-hued light that bathed the room. He found himself lying on a bed—a warm bed, one that wrapped him in a cocoon of comfort.

The realization was jarring. A bed like this, with plush covers and downy pillows, was foreign to him, something he had never experienced in his entire life.

He wanted to stay and continue enjoying the comfort but he couldn't his sister was not here. All he had known were the cold, hard cots of the Broken Sword Clan, where he had been raised.

Back then, he had considered himself lucky just to have a bed at all. His parents hadn't even that luxury; they'd sleep on the freezing metal floor every night, their bodies curled tightly against the biting cold.

His thoughts drifted to his sister, the one they'd had to give away. She was too frail to survive the relentless chill of the dregs metal house. A wealthy government family, one childless and desperate for a daughter, had adopted her.

His parents had said it was for the best, that she would have a better life. But Riley had always harbored a longing—a hope—that one day he would find her again, reunite with her, and finally be the brother he was supposed to be.

But that was then. Now, as he lay in this strangely luxurious room, those memories seemed like distant Echoes. He remained in the bed for a while longer, letting his senses absorb the surroundings. The room's design was elegant, adorned with intricate woodwork and silk tapestries.

The style reminded him of something he'd seen once in a book about old Japanese estates from the 19th century. The lacquered wood panels, the sliding doors with paper screens, and the delicate floral patterns exuded a sense of timelessness.

Yet, there was an opulent atmosphere here, a richness that felt slightly out of place, as though the room was trying too hard to project serenity.

Riley's thoughts were still muddled, his memory hazy. He vaguely recalled plummeting from the sky, his body hurtling toward the earth before he'd been swallowed by a rift. He remembered the terror, the helplessness as the rift rushed up to meet him.

Then, darkness. For a moment, his breath caught in his throat as he wondered if he had fallen into a Nexus seed— a newly formed Nexus Trial— a gate connecting the normal world to the Nexus realm. If that were the case, his [Doom] attribute would make sure his chances of survival remained abysmally low.

Knock, knock.

The sound of knuckles rapping gently against wood startled him, dragging him back to the present. His heart skipped a beat. Acting on instinct, he forced himself to remain calm and spoke, "Come in."

The door slid open, revealing a young woman dressed in a crisp black maid's uniform. She wore a white apron around her waist and had her hair neatly tucked beneath a black scarf. Her face was soft and serene, her expression carefully composed, though there was a hint of timidity in her eyes.

She carried a basin of water in one hand, while a white towel hung from her other arm.

"Good morning, master," she said, her voice low and respectful as she dipped into a slight bow. "It is time for your bath."

Riley blinked, momentarily dumbstruck. The whole scenario felt absurdly surreal. A maid, dressed as though she had stepped out of an old drama, was standing in his room, offering to assist him with something as mundane as a bath. His mind struggled to catch up. Was this real? Or was it some elaborate illusion conjured by the Nexus Trial?

For a fleeting moment, Riley wondered if this was one of those stories he'd seen in the old television dramas—those tales where pampered young masters lived decadent lives with servants attending to their every whim.

Could that be what this world was? A meticulously crafted illusion to lull him into complacency before the true nightmare revealed itself?

The maid misinterpreted his silence as approval. She quietly set the basin down and approached him with practiced precision, her hands moving toward the fastenings of his clothes.

Riley recoiled instantly, memories of past betrayals flashing in his mind. He had been mistreated by a girl once—a wound that had never fully healed.

The idea of allowing someone to touch him like this, especially in a place where reality was so uncertain, was out of the question.

"No," he said firmly, his voice tinged with an edge of coldness. "I'll bathe myself today."

The maid paused, her hands hovering for a moment before she drew back. Her expression was difficult to read—neither surprise nor disappointment, just a flicker of something that might have been uncertainty.

But she offered no argument. Instead, she merely nodded, bowed again, and exited the room with quiet dignity.

Alone once more, Riley let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. He had to think, to piece together the fragments of memory and figure out where exactly he was.

The first Nexus Trial was supposed to be the simplest of trials, a test designed to ease new awakeners into the perils of the Nexus Realm. But this… this didn't feel simple at all.

The room's luxurious comfort was nothing more than a façade, a trap designed to lull him into a false sense of security. He knew better than to be deceived. His [Doom] attribute made sure of that.

His thoughts whirred, trying to connect the dots. He vaguely recalled his last moments before being thrown from the sky —marching alongside an army through a twisting pathway lined with statues of angels.

Something had happened when he touched one of those statues, but the details were blurred, shrouded in a fog that clouded his memory.

He remembered falling, crashing into darkness. But then what? How had he ended up here, in this strange place that seemed so detached from the horrors of the Nexus Realm?

He tried to recall what he had been taught— about the Nexus Blessing and it's first trial in general, and much to his consternation he didn't remember anything pleasant. 

There was no more time to ponder. Riley knew that if he wanted to survive, he needed information—quickly. And the only way to gather it was to explore, to figure out the rules of this realm before the true nightmare reared its head.

He swung his legs off the bed and rose to his feet. The carpet was soft beneath his toes, a far cry from the cold stone floors he was used to.

Moving with purpose, he strode toward the door and yanked it open. The hallway beyond was narrow, lined with wooden panels that creaked slightly underfoot. A faint breeze drifted through the passage, carrying with it the scent of incense and polished wood.

Riley walked with a deliberate swagger, feigning confidence even though unease gnawed at his insides. At the end of the corridor, the space opened up into a vast atrium—a room so grand that it took his breath away.

The ceiling arched high above, supported by intricately carved beams, while sunlight filtered through tall, narrow windows, casting warm golden patterns across the floor.

"Young master!" one of the maids cleaning the floor exclaimed, her voice tinged with surprise. She immediately bowed, and the other servants followed suit, their heads dipping low in unison as though rehearsed.

Riley forced himself to remain composed. If this world wanted him to play the role of a young master, then he would do just that—at least until he figured out what was really going on.

"Continue your work," he said, attempting to mimic the imperious tone he'd seen actors use in historical dramas. He wasn't sure if he sounded convincing, but the maids quickly resumed their duties without question.

Just as Riley was about to head toward the large double doors that he assumed led outside, he heard footsteps behind him. Before he could turn around, an arrogant voice rang out, dripping with disdain.

"Bastard! you think trying to commit suicide and sleeping for a month will make me forget you?"

Riley turned slowly, already weary of yet another scripted character meant to antagonize him.

The boy who approached him had neatly combed dark hair and an attempt at a regal posture, though the sneer on his face undermined any pretense of nobility. He was flanked by several attendants dressed in gaudy green crop tops that seemed oddly out of place.

Riley sighed inwardly. Could this get any more cliché? His mind raced as he weighed his options. Picking a fight would likely lead to some predictable confrontation—something designed to test his patience or resolve. He decided against engaging.

"I'm the unforgettable type," Riley replied dismissively, his tone laced with sarcasm. Without giving the boy a chance to respond, he turned on his heel and walked away, heading directly toward the large wooden doors.

Behind him, he could hear the boy's indignant sputtering, but he paid it no mind. These characters weren't real—just illusions conjured by the Nexus Trial, mere obstacles or distractions designed to delay him from achieving his goal.

The longer he spent in the Nexus Trial the more damage his soul will take, and then his soul will become corrupted, and he'd turn into a Nexus Creature or Monster. He'd also cause a great commotion in the normal world, after all his soul will become a gate way for Nexus Creatures to enter the real world.

As he pushed open the door, the scent of fresh grass and damp earth greeted him. The sight that met his eyes was unlike anything he had expected—a vast garden stretching out for what seemed like miles, with carefully trimmed hedges, flower beds bursting with color, and towering trees swaying gently in the breeze. The scene was serene, almost idyllic, a stark contrast to the ruined, war-torn landscapes he was used to in the waking world.

A soft voice pulled him from his thoughts. "It's a surprise to see you here, loner." Riley turned to see a girl dressed in an elegant white gown, her long black hair flowing like silk. She was watching him with an expression of mild curiosity, though there was a hint of something deeper in her eyes—something unsettling.

Riley didn't have time for pleasantries. "I come with gifts," he said with a sly smile.