Awakening in a Known Unknown [2]

As Quill was dragged along, he managed to gather quite a bit of information.

First, it was obvious that the people here knew him, which meant he wasn't just teleported here randomly; he was indeed an existing person in this world.

Second, the Nocturne family was wealthy—really wealthy.

He had known this from the novel, but seeing the impressive architecture, lavish decorations, and even indoor fountains was a different experience altogether. The opulence was staggering.

But the most important and new piece of information he learned came as he was dragged around by the bear-like old man who was apparently Quill's grandfather.

This was easy to decipher as the old man kept nagging things like, "How can a grandson of mine be such a disappointment?"

It also became clear that today was an important day.

Quill glanced down at his attire as he stood outside in the vast garden in front of the house's gates.

The old man hadn't explained why they were standing there, but Quill assumed they were waiting for the chauffeur.

His outfit was something quite familiar to Quill. How could it not be? He had read about its description countless times—it was the infamous Sentinel academy uniform, the attire worn by the main cast at the beginning of the story.

It was predominantly black with red ornaments, perfectly matching Quill's own new features.

A small smile crept onto his face. This was exciting and honestly cool.

"What are you grinning for?" Quill's grandfather barked, noticing his unsettling smile.

Quill hesitated to answer. He hadn't spoken much with anyone this whole time, uncertain of how Quill Nocturne would communicate.

"Get a move on, will ya?" the old man barked, his patience wearing thinner by the second.

'Nocturnes... known for their riches and high society. So, I have to be formal in my behavior? ...He definitely isn't acting that way. Well, better to speak up than stay silent.'

"Forgive me, Grandfather... Sir. I was merely lost in some youthful daydreams."

'Nailed it.'

Except the blank stare from his "grandfather" suggested otherwise.

"Got cobwebs in your brain?"

'What now?'

How was he supposed to reply? Agree? Disagree? Quill was stumped.

"Save your fancy words for someone else. You're not squeezing a dime out of me. And don't expect any warm fuzzies today. Frankly, I'm thrilled to not see your face for a year," the old man spat out, turning away to stare at the gates.

There was something else quite clear: he definitely wasn't the favorite around here.

The servants were distant and somewhat fearful of him, yet they appeared to be in a joyful mood.

It was likely because Quill was leaving for an extended period. Initially, he thought their happiness was simply about having a bit of freedom. But the way his "grandfather" was acting towards him was a clear indication of his unpopularity.

'Just who the heck are you, Quill?' He had read about the Nocturnes, but experiencing their world firsthand was different. There was a weight to their name, an expectation that felt almost suffocating. Something he knew all too well in his life.

The old man tapped Quill out of his thoughts as he began to walk forward. The car had arrived.

Quill knew what sort of vehicle to expect—it was described in detail in the novel—but seeing it with his own eyes was truly amazing.

It resembled a beautiful red antique car, the kind that would be a huge investment or highly sought after by wealthy car enthusiasts in his world.

It was probably the same here.

Though it looked like an antique car, it was far from it. Hoverboards in place of traditional tires allowed the vehicle to glide effortlessly above the ground. The motor sound was the cherry on top—not too loud, not too quiet. Simply pleasing to the ears.

After the chauffeur opened the doors for the Nocturnes, they made themselves comfortable inside.

The interior was just as immaculate as the exterior.

Quill had to control his expression and movements to make it seem like this wasn't completely new to him.

It was, but he didn't want any unnecessary conversation with the old man who was seated next to him, a gap distancing them.

The ride was comfortable, providing the perfect opportunity for Quill to reflect on the information he possessed.

He knew their destination, which led him to conclude that this was probably following the novel's story. Their destination was Sentinel Academy.

Though no one had explicitly confirmed his theory, it was evident at this point.

He was wearing the academy uniform, the servants' reactions, his "grandfather's" mention of Quill being away for a year, and the fact that Quill was 18 years old—all pointed to one thing: he was a student.

Additionally, he was a Nocturne.

Attending a prestigious school like Sentinel was a given, if not a must, for those aspiring to become Hunters—a path closely tied to the Nocturne family.

The academy itself lasted only a year, but it was an intensive year. Quill knew this best; he literally did.

'...So I just randomly woke up in this—Quill's body on the specific date of the academy's start, which also meant around the time the story of The Purple-Eyed Prince began to take place?'

It seemed almost orchestrated. Then again, he wouldn't just wake up in a completely different reality overnight without someone's intervention.

At least that was the only logical explanation for this illogical phenomenon.

"Oi, brat, where are you with your thoughts again?" the old man beside him barked.

"I swear if you're thinking about any shenanigans again, I will disown you! You hear me? DISOWN YA!"

His shouting filled the confined space of the vehicle, but Quill barely paid attention, giving him simple nods. Quill had more pressing matters to think about, things to organize.

For that, he needed the status window again. Just as he thought about ways to summon it, it appeared naturally.

'So simply thinking about it is enough,' he noted, seeing the blue window before him shimmering with its light. It was oddly comforting.

As the old man continued his tirade, Quill noticed that he couldn't see the status window. Not even the chauffeur reacted to the sudden blue light.

'Interesting.'

Age: 18

Character: Quill Nocturne

Ability: Master of Thread Grade 1

= You are able to control cotton thread to your will, earning the title of Master of Thread.

Traits:

= The Intellectual One, Workaholic, Insight

Affinity:

= As cold as your soul is, so too is your hand. Ice will be your companion.

Looking at the status window, differences were already noticeable.

'My traits...'

But that wasn't the main attention of Quill; rather, it was something else, something he only really thought about now.

'Master of Thread... Control cotton thread... What kind of nonsense is this?'

Quill almost wanted to laugh maniacally. In a world where individuals could bend the moonlight, absorb the sun's heat, or create weapons out of water, all he could do was... freaking knit?

Despite his efforts to contain his frustration, his face betrayed his emotions, catching "his" grandfather's attention.

"What the hell are you thinking about now?" the old man growled, snapping Quill out of his thoughts.

Quill turned to him, deciding to probe. "Do you ever see something like a blue window pop up when you think about it? ... Sir."

The old man stared at Quill as if he had grown another head. "You finally lost it, haven't ya?" he muttered, then smacked him on the head.

"Arrgh!" Quill yelped. It hurt.

"Grandfather, I'm sorry... Sir. I'm just a bit... nervous about Sentinel," Quill stammered, noticing the old man's eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"Since when do you call me Grandfather? It already bugged me the first time," the old man grumbled.

'Shit...'

"You really are nervous, aren't you, brat?" The old man let out a deep, rumbling laugh. Luckily for Quill, he didn't press further.

At least Quill confirmed that the blue status window was his own personal gimmick.

Once again, he couldn't fight against the creeping smile on his face.

It was just too exciting. The world, the plot, the characters—everything he loved was becoming a reality right in front of him. His heart began to race.

'No... Calm down.'

Quill couldn't let himself get too excited. He wouldn't be here for too long.

That was the first thing he decided once he realized where he was. He needed to go back to his own body.

He couldn't let her be alone.

Clap

"Don't worry, brat. Even a piece of shit like you has the Nocturne blood!" "his" grandfather slapped Quill on the back, trying to encourage him in his own gruff way after noticing the sudden seriousness on his face.

Though he certainly didn't hold back with his impact. It hurt once again.

The rest of the drive was silent, with Quill simply being mesmerized by the sights outside the window.

The many lights, stores, and people bustling about created a vibrant tapestry of life. Neon signs flashed in a multitude of colors, advertising everything from food stalls to high-end boutiques.

The technology, the style—it was truly art before his eyes.