A WAY FORWARD

Diaval snapped from his thoughts and looked at the maid once again.

"What's your name?" he asked, his voice softer now.

The maid hesitated for a moment before faintly responding, "My name is Mira, Young Master."

"Alright, Mira, can you help me get back to my room?" Diaval asked, trying to gather himself.

"Of course, Young Master," Mira replied, bowing slightly.

As they walked down the ornate hallway, the rich decorations almost overwhelming in their opulence, Diaval tried to make sense of his new reality.

Each step felt surreal, the weight of his new identity pressing down on him.

Just as they turned a corner, they nearly collided with another figure—a woman with red hair, maroon horns, and eyes that mirrored his own.

"Diaval? What are you doing up so early?" she asked, her gaze sharp and scrutinizing.

She looked from Diaval to Mira, her mind seemingly wandering to places that made Diaval's stomach twist in knots.

Her mind drifted to a troubling thought: was her son now bedding the maids?

She couldn't help but notice that some of their bellies appeared rounder than usual.

Was Diaval getting the maids pregnant, or were they simply indulging in too much food?

Diaval's mind raced as more memory fragments fell into place.

The woman with features so similar to his—her voluptuous figure and perfectly sculpted form—was his mother, Jade Astarot. She was the first wife of the House Master and he was her only son.

"Uh, mother... I, uh, was just, um, Mira was helping me get back to my room," Diaval stammered, his mind racing to find a plausible explanation that wouldn't raise suspicions.

Jade Astarot, his mother, raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a slight smirk. "Is that so? You seemed rather... cozy for a simple escort to your room."

Diaval's face flushed. "N-no, it's not like that. I just—" he stuttered, trying to find the right words.

"I was feeling a bit off, and Mira was just helping me, um, get my bearings."

Jade's eyes narrowed slightly, clearly not buying his nervous explanation.

"Feeling off, you say? Perhaps you've been overindulging in certain... activities?" She glanced at Mira, whose face was turning as red as Diaval's.

"No, mother, really, it's nothing like that. I just... needed some water, and then I felt dizzy, and Mira was just helping me, I swear,"

Diaval said, his words tumbling out in a rush.

Jade chuckled softly, a knowing look in her eyes.

"Alright, Diaval. If you say so. Just remember, as the son of the House Master, your actions reflect on our family. Try to keep that in mind.

"Yes, mother," Diaval replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

As Jade turned to leave, she paused, looking back at Mira.

"Mira, make sure my son gets to his room safely," she instructed, her tone leaving no room for argument.

"Of course, Lady Jade," Mira responded, bowing deeply.

Once Jade had walked away, Diaval let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"That was close," he muttered, running a hand through his red hair.

"Your mother is quite... perceptive," Mira said softly, her voice tinged with admiration and fear.

"Yeah, she is," Diaval replied, still feeling the adrenaline rush from the encounter.

"Thanks for playing along.

"It's my duty, Young Master," Mira said, her eyes softening as she looked at him.

They continued walking in silence for a few moments, Diaval's mind racing with fragmented memories and the weight of his new identity.

As they reached his room, Diaval paused, turning to Mira.

"Mira, thank you," he said sincerely. "I... I appreciate your help."

"It's nothing, Young Master," Mira replied with a gentle smile. "I'm here to serve."

Diaval nodded, opening the door to his room and stepping inside. As the door closed behind him, he leaned against it, exhaling deeply.

The encounter with his mother had left him shaken, but he was grateful for Mira's assistance.

'This is going to be harder than I thought,' he mused, staring at the unfamiliar room that was now his.

After a while of pacing around, Diaval's thoughts began to coalesce, bit by bit.

Each fragment started to make sense, yet the entire situation remained utterly surreal to him. It was absurd, like something out of a story.

Transmigration and reincarnation were concepts he was used to watching in movies and reading about in books, but to think such a situation would happen to him?

"This is crazy... just crazy," he muttered, pacing the room with increasing agitation. 

He paused at a desk made of rich, dark wood, its surface smooth and polished to a shine.

It looked expensive, the type of furniture that spoke of wealth and status.

On top of it, there was nothing but the glass of water he had drunk from earlier and a small, ornate lamp.

The lamp's intricate design caught his eye, prompting another wave of bewilderment.

"How did I end up here? This isn't just some dream," he thought, running his fingers along the edge of the desk.

"I mean, it can't be, right? It's too detailed, too... real."

Diaval's gaze shifted to the window.

Driven by a sudden impulse, he moved over and pushed the curtain aside just a bit, peering outside.

The night was dark, but he could make out a small town in the distance. Flickering lights dotted the landscape—some stable, others winking on and off.

He assumed they were houses and perhaps street lamps.

"Holy shit, it's a world where electricity has been invented," he said aloud, feeling a surge of relief.

The thought of living in a time where fire was the only source of light had been troubling him more than he realized.

Still, despite the presence of electricity, the world outside had a distinctly medieval feel.

The architecture of the buildings, the cobblestone streets barely visible under the faint light—all of it screamed a bygone era.

"Alright, so it's a medieval world with electricity. I can work with that," he thought, trying to reassure himself.

"But what does that mean for me? How am I supposed to fit into all of this?"

He returned to the desk, absently tracing patterns on its surface. His mind raced, grappling with the enormity of his situation.

"So, I'm Diaval now. Jade Astarot's son. What was it she said? The only son of the House Master?"

"That can't be true...the House Master had three wives and 3 sons..."he thought finally grasping the situation.

"Aah yes, Diaval Astarot.

Only son to Jade and Valtor Astarot,"he said feeling the sense of importance in the family he was now in.

"That makes me someone important, I guess.

But what does that even mean? Do I have duties? Responsibilities? Enemies?" He sighed, rubbing his temples.

"I need to remember more. I need to understand this world better."

"Being born into a Noble Dragon House isn't bad...that just means more money that will fund the simple life I want."

"Despite the vast number of troubles that follow such beings and Wealthy families...but I don't tend to get involved in any of that, so I'll be okay."

He picked up the glass of water, taking a sip as he continued to think.

The cool liquid helped to ground him, momentarily calming the chaotic swirl of thoughts in his mind.

"Transmigrated into a novel... Could that really be what's happening? If so, I need to remember the plot.

What were the main events? The key characters?" He frowned, trying to dredge up details from the foggy recesses of his memory.

"I remember something about the main character becoming a villain... And this world undergoing changes. But that's so vague. I need more than that."

His eyes drifted back to the window, the distant lights twinkling like stars in the night.

"Maybe I can use my knowledge of the novel to my advantage. If I can stay out of trouble, avoid the main plot, maybe I can just... live an average life here. Figure out what caused this and see if there's a way back."

'But I only read the first chapters out of what seemed to be an insane amount of volumes...'

"Now that I think about it, I'm partially fucked with that small amount of knowledge..."

He laughed, a short, mirthless sound. "An average life in a medieval world. Right. As if anything about this is average."

With a deep breath, Diaval straightened up, determination hardening in his eyes.

"Alright. First things first: I need to gather information. Learn about this world's politics, culture, magic—everything. And I need to remember more about the novel."

His mind settled, at least for the moment, on a course of action. It was a daunting task, but it was a start. And right now, a start was all he had.

"Okay, Diaval. Time to figure this out. One step at a time."

///NEXT CHAPTER: HOUSE OF ASTAROT