In the dim light of dawn, nestled in the corner of a rustic stable, a young man lay sprawled across a bed of dry hay. The coarse strands clung to his tangled black hair, and patches of dirt masked his delicate features. His clothes, once probably noble, were now no better than the rags used to wipe sweat off a peasant's brow. Yet despite the harshness of his surroundings, he slept with the peace of a child cradled in his mother's arms.
The golden rays of the sun stretched through the cracks in the stable's wooden door, warming his face. Slowly, his eyes fluttered open, blinking against the sudden light. For a moment, he stared at the wooden ceiling above, then sat up groggily, brushing hay from his shoulders.
His eyes scanned the room, taking in the simple interior: a few wooden buckets, an old saddle thrown carelessly into a corner, and the strong scent of horses lingering in the air. Confusion crept over his face. "Where… am I?" he muttered.
As he raised his arms to wipe his face, he froze. His hands… they were there. Whole. Attached. Unwounded.
His heart began to race. "Wait… I had lost my hands. A sword… through my chest. I remember falling… and her face… that girl…"
Disjointed images flashed in his mind—the chaos of a battlefield, the sorrowful eyes of a girl with ash-colored hair, the spectators shouting, and finally, the piercing pain of betrayal from his own father's sword.
"Was it all a dream?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
He stood, legs slightly trembling from weakness. Hunger clawed at his insides, and his throat felt parched. Spotting a water container, he stumbled toward it, and as he did, his gaze happened to fall upon a mirror hanging on the wall.
He stopped in his tracks.
The reflection in the mirror wasn't him. At least, not the face he remembered. The person staring back had the same jet-black hair, but the facial features were subtly different—more angular, more matured. He stepped closer, moving his head side to side, but the reflection mimicked him perfectly.
He reached up, touching his face with trembling fingers. "This… isn't me."
His reflection confirmed it.
He stood there for a while, analyzing the changes. His white hair had turned black, and his face, while not unattractive, wasn't the same one he remembered.
'Maybe this is someone else's body…' he thought.
Then, out of nowhere, a voice echoed inside his head.
[Hello]
Startled, he looked around. "Who said that?"
No one was there.
Shaking his head, he dismissed it as his imagination. But then, the voice returned, louder and filled with cheerful energy:
[Hello, my name is Love.]
"Oh… okay. And I'm…" he paused. His eyes widened. "What is my name?"
Panic gripped him. He didn't know. He didn't remember his own name.
[Your name is Nyx Alexiue.]
"Nyx… Alexiue," he repeated slowly, letting the syllables roll off his tongue. "That sounds royal."
A spark of curiosity ignited in his eyes. "But… Love? Where are you?"
[I am in your mind.] the voice replied, sweet as honey.
[So the thing is you died in your original world and your soul transferred to this world.]
"In my mind? That's…" he blinked a few times. "Wait, what do you mean I died?!"
The voice didn't waver.
[You died. Your soul transferred into this body in another world. And I… well, I'm here to help you.]
For a moment, Nyx was silent. Processing. Contemplating.
"So… I was stabbed. I died. And now I'm here?" he asked slowly.
[Correct.]
Nyx sat down again, cross-legged on the hay. "So… you're kind of like a system, right? From those reincarnation stories? Like in those novels?"
[Yes.]
His eyes lit up with childlike excitement.
"I can feel it. Yes… I can feel it inside me."
[What are you talking about?]
"I can feel the Nine Cocked Fox!" Nyx shouted proudly, placing his hand over his stomach.
[Excuse me? What?!] Love stammered.
"In my world, there was this comic called Naro. A boy had a Nine Cocked Fox sealed inside him. It gave him powers. Every kid wanted to swing on one of its cocks."
There was a pause.
[There is… no fox inside you. That's your hunger talking.] Love's tone shifted to irritated confusion.
[Calm down there's nothing absurd things inside you. You are feeling something inside your stomach because you are hungry.] Her voice is calm.
Nyx sighed and pulled his hand away. "So not even Fucky?"
[WHAT?! There is no Fucky. You're just hungry. And possibly insane.]
"Oh…" He sat down, deflated.
A few minutes passed in silence. Nyx stared through the stable door at the bright sky. Then suddenly, he flinched.
"No, no, no… this can't be happening."
[Now what?!] Love groaned.
Nyx pointed at the sky. "Why is the moon so bright? That's not normal."
His eyes fell on a wooden nameplate above the door.
"No way… Does that say 'Everyone will die, including me'?" he asked, dramatically pointing.
[That is the SUN, not the moon. And the sign has the name of the stable's owner. You're being ridiculous.] Love snapped.
"Oh…"
[You fool]
"Are you joking with me."
[Now sit down and listen carefully.]
He obeyed.
[There's no fox. No system stats. You're not the chosen one. You're a human who died and somehow got another chance. That's it.]
[I think not a normal human.]
This time a little irritation in this voice that call herself 'Love'.
Nyx looked thoughtful for a moment.
Silence settled between them again, though this time it was less awkward, more reflective. Nyx leaned back against the stable wall and closed his eyes for a moment.
He whispered, "Thank you… for talking to me."
[You're welcome, Nyx.]
And from there, a new story quietly began.
This is the start of a long journey filled with absurdity, confusion, pain, laughter, and perhaps, purpose. And Nyx had no idea what chaos awaited him beyond the stable door.