A man woke with a sudden, choking gasp.
His body sprang upright on the narrow bed, fingers clawing at the damp sheets as if trying to anchor himself to reality.
Sweat clung to his skin, soaking through the thin fabric of his shirt.
He breathed heavily for a few moments before running a trembling hand through his sweat-drenched hair.
"What the hell…? Where am I?" he muttered.
He got off the bed and began examining his surroundings more carefully.
The room was dimly lit. Walking toward the window, he pulled the curtains aside, allowing sunlight to spill into the space.
"This room is quite luxurious… antique even. But the style feels a little outdated," he remarked.
His eyes slowly moved across the interior.
The room radiated wealth at a glance.
Furniture crafted from dark polished wood. Walls adorned with paintings, ornate wallpaper, and iron wall sconces. An expensive-looking pocket watch rested neatly on the desk.
He then stepped closer to the mirror.
Dark black hair.
Light blue eyes.
"This is me… No—wait. Was I this muscular before?"
He examined himself with growing uncertainty, as though staring at a stranger.
Then—
Thud.
He collapsed to the floor, clutching his head in agony.
Memories unfamiliar to him surged violently through his mind.
The man groaned.
When the pain finally eased, he forced himself into a sitting position with the help of the wall.
"What the hell is happening…? Who is… Antonio Holmes?" he muttered, trying to steady his breathing.
He stood again and looked into the mirror.
"My name… is Noctis Graham. Then who is this Antonio Holmes supposed to be?"
Fragments of memory continued settling inside his mind.
"So this Antonio guy looks just like me… but—"
His gaze fell on his calloused hands.
"He's a detective. And a skilled combatant."
Noctis slowly walked toward the desk and pulled out the chair.
He sat down.
"Alright… let's see what we've got."
One by one, he sorted through the memories flooding his mind.
Nearly half an hour later, he was done.
Opening a drawer, he took out a diary and began writing down every important detail about the man he had possessed — and the place he now found himself in.
1. Antonio Holmes is a well-known detective at the Blackthorn Investigation Department in Astrea, the capital of the Blackthorn Empire.
2. He comes from a wealthy merchant family that specializes in the liquor trade.
3. He is respected by his peers, though his personality is somewhat arrogant.
4. He graduated at the top of the military academy and is highly skilled with both sword and gun, as well as in hand-to-hand combat.
5. He is currently investigating the mysterious Stuart Mansion murder case, also known as the "Killer-less Murder."
After finishing his notes, Noctis glanced at the pocket watch.
6:45 AM.
"This guy leaves for work by eight… so I still have about an hour."
He then checked the date.
September 10th, 1882.
'I've gone back in time quite a lot… huh.'
Leaning back in his chair, Noctis began thinking.
The real problem wasn't Antonio.
To some extent, Noctis could imitate him. After all, possessing Antonio meant inheriting his combat prowess as well.
The real problem was the Stuart Mansion case.
Even Antonio — an exceptional detective — had failed to uncover a single lead.
"Are they still not satisfied after watching me get fucked in that mansion…?"
One thing was clear now.
If he wanted to escape this place, he would have to solve the murder case that had been laid before him.
Noctis also realized that although this world appeared similar to Earth, it was fundamentally different.
For one, only five continents existed here.
Instead of numerous countries, the continents were dominated by four or five massive empires.
The Blackthorn Empire — where he currently was — was renowned for its overwhelming military strength.
The people of this world also possessed different biology, allowing them to reach superhuman levels of physical capability.
And the man he now inhabited was one of them.
Soon, it was time for breakfast.
Before heading downstairs, Noctis remembered that Antonio kept his gun in one of the desk drawers.
He opened it.
And froze.
The gun inside…
Was the very same revolver he had used in the Vexwood Mansion.
Noctis couldn't comprehend how this was possible.
But if the entity toying with him could transport him to an entirely different world…
Then this was hardly impossible either.
Without dwelling on it further, he grabbed the gun and headed downstairs.
'Just an hour or two ago, I was a gardener struggling to survive.
And now… I'm being served by people like the ones I once worked under.
How ironic.'
After finishing breakfast, Noctis, now Antonio stepped outside.
A carriage — along with his personal driver — was already waiting.
The journey toward the Blackthorn Investigation Department began.
During the ride, Antonio quietly opened a book he had taken from his room.
It wasn't meant for entertainment.
The title read:
"Secrets of Astrea."
The book detailed the city's culture and layout, giving him a clearer understanding of his current surroundings.
Time passed.
Closing the book, Noctis pulled out the pocket watch from his coat.
8:27 AM.
It was almost time.
The building was already visible in the distance.
It was massive.
Nearly as large as the Vexwood Mansion.
Stepping out of the carriage, Noctis dismissed the driver with a simple hand gesture.
At the entrance, the guards bowed respectfully.
He returned the gesture, doing his best to imitate Antonio.
Antonio might have been arrogant — but he was also a well-mannered man.
Inside, several coworkers and staff greeted him.
He acknowledged them calmly before making his way toward his office.
As he opened the door—
The man who had been sitting silently at a small desk in the corner suddenly sprang to his feet.
"Good morning, sir."
Blond hair. Green eyes.
Antonio's assistant.
Austin Farmer.
Antonio returned the greeting.
He sat at his desk while Austin brought over the case files.
"Report all of your findings from the investigation," Noctis ordered.
"Um—what?" Austin blinked in surprise as if expecting something else.
"Hm? Did you not hear me? I asked you to report your findings."
"Oh—yes. I'm sorry, sir. Here is the report."
Antonio took the files, briefly glancing at him.
'I don't remember this man having anxiety issues or making mistakes like this…
At least not according to Antonio's memories.'
He opened the file.
'Well… let's see what we have here.'