The calm that had finally settled after the storm of thoughts and emotions raging for hours since I first opened my eyes in this unfamiliar world gave me a little room to breathe. A survival plan, though still vague and riddled with uncertainties, had finally formed in my head. The mental chaos that had previously filled every corner of my consciousness gradually began to subside, replaced by a sort of bitter calm, a bitter acceptance that this was my reality now. For a moment, the luxurious room that had felt like a gilded cage now felt slightly more manageable, slightly more comprehensible.
It was only in this state of relative mental clarity that I finally had the chance to truly observe my surroundings carefully. My gaze, previously blurred by panic and disorientation, now slowly swept over every corner of this spacious room, trying to map and understand every detail like a prisoner inspecting his new cell.
My left hand unconsciously began tapping the smooth surface of the mahogany writing desk with a slow, irregular rhythm, reflecting the lingering inner turmoil. Meanwhile, my right hand reached for the family photo of John placed on the desk. I picked it up, examining every face depicted there with a mix of curiosity and guilt.
In the sepia-toned photo framed in carved mahogany, four figures were displayed in a classic composition. Two were standing and the other two sitting. The two standing were John and his younger sister, Viola, while Charles and Eleanor, his parents, sat in front in formal poses. Their expressions were all serious and dignified, fitting the image of a respectable bourgeois family. Yet, behind that seriousness, a faint warmth emanated, an impression of wholeness that made my chest feel tight for no clear reason.
Perhaps because of John's memories unconsciously influencing me, or maybe because I had been thinking too much about losing my own family on Earth, a small, bitter smile suddenly touched my lips as I looked at the photo. It felt strange and uncomfortable, like watching a piece of someone else's life that I was now forced to live. I carefully placed the photo frame back on the desk, as if storing a treasure and a burden I had to carry.
My gaze then shifted to the stack of John's economics books neatly leaning against one side of the desk. Their thick leather covers and faded gold lettering showed these books were frequently used. Next to the stack of books were several high-quality papers containing copies of Roselle's diary pages that he had collected. My heart beat with a mix of curiosity and frustration as I picked up those sheets and immediately tried to examine them, hoping—with an almost childish hope—that maybe a miracle would happen and the writing inside would suddenly turn into English I could understand.
But reality always has a way of crushing naive hopes. My examination was futile, even annoying. I let out a long sigh, feeling deep disappointment. "Ah, of course," I muttered inwardly with a cynical tone. As if I would suddenly gain powers like the protagonist in a typical isekai novel, right? I seemed to still be giving "the summoner" I hold dear a chance to show a little mercy in this already chaotic situation. I thought this while frowning, because once again my stupid, luck-reliant thinking did not come true.
I understood nothing of what was written there. The neatly arranged Chinese characters on the paper looked like a series of completely meaningless symbols to me, an unreachable puzzle, a tightly locked door without a key I possessed. The knowledge of the future that should have been my great advantage had instead become a curse due to its imperfection.
Outside the window, the pale moonlight emitting a faint red hue—a characteristic of the moon in the Lord of the Mysteries world—was slowly beginning to fade, swallowed by the dawn rising on the eastern horizon. The first golden rays of the morning sun began to seep into this large room through the gaps in the heavy curtains, illuminating dust particles dancing softly in the air. The silent night atmosphere began to be replaced by faint sounds of life from outside, a sign that the city of Backlund was waking from its sleep and preparing for a new day.
Almost simultaneously with the changing light outside, the sound of several people's footsteps was heard, echoing in the marble corridor and approaching my room with certainty. The sound was orderly and purposeful, like a morning ritual performed for years.
"Hmm," I thought, trying to recall John's morning routine from the memories I had acquired. "This must be the time John gets prepared by Fritzh and the other servants." My memory—or more precisely, John's memory—informed me that Fritzh and the other servants were very quick and efficient in their work, like perfectly tuned machines.
Wait! I immediately refuted my own thought vehemently. Not my servants. The correct term is John's servants, not mine. I must keep reminding myself of this dividing line, about the identity I'm wearing and the original that is lost. Every time I forget, it feels like a betrayal of myself, of the life I left behind.
Fritzh is John's butler, a man who is actually quite old but still looks sturdy. This man has served the Lynch family for a very long time, even before John was born, and had served John's mother, Eleanor, in her youth. He is part of the foundation of this household, someone who knows all the family secrets.
John also has several other servants, mostly composed of middle-aged and older women who have served for years. Hah, I couldn't hold back a sarcastic thought. Of course, male servants are actually a relatively rare case in a household this lavish, where most domestic duties are considered the realm of women according to Loen societal standards.
The sound of footsteps grew louder and clearer, meaning they were very close to the room now. Just a few more steps before they reached the door. And they could enter at any moment, interrupting my fragile solitude.
Creeeak.
With a slightly creaky yet still elegant sound, my bedroom door slowly opened, replacing the silence that had previously enveloped the room like a thick blanket.
I immediately turned towards the door to confirm if they were truly my servants—John's servants—or other people I didn't know. And sure enough, they were there, exactly as I had expected and feared.
There was Fritzh, standing in front with an upright posture despite his advanced age. Behind him, three middle-aged women in neat, clean maid uniforms looked at me with slightly furrowed brows, seeming surprised that I was already awake and sitting in the chair near the writing desk. Of course they were startled; after all, John was known for having poor sleeping habits and often waking up late. It was very rare for him to be already awake and fully dressed at such an early hour, let alone with an expression that looked so alert and aware, not drowsy as usual.
I only glanced at them briefly with the flat look I had learned from John's memories, then immediately turned my face back to the writing desk, pretending to be engrossed in observing something there. This was the indifferent attitude John usually displayed in the mornings, a way to show that nothing strange was happening to me at the moment. After all, according to my somewhat naive hope, they wouldn't truly know the difference between the real John and me, the imposter, right? Or so I desperately hoped, because the alternative was total failure.
Although the servants were surprised to see me up early, they weren't truly disturbed or questioned it excessively. After looking at me with surprise for a few seconds, they immediately continued their respective tasks with the discipline ingrained after years of service. Some walked towards the still-messy canopy bed to tidy it, folding the silk blankets with trained, efficient movements. Others approached me, ready to assist as usual.
"Good morning, Young Master," Fritzh promptly greeted me with a polite smile adorning his old, bearded, and wrinkled face. His black eyes looked at me respectfully, but there was a little warmth in them, a remnant of seeing John grow up from a child to a young man.
I immediately turned and looked at Fritzh, trying to mimic how John usually responded. Fritzh's face was indeed old, with deep lines on his forehead and around his eyes that spoke of long years of service, but his gaze remained sharp and aware. He had jet-black eyes and a rather large build, taller than the average Loen person even in his advanced age, proof of his descent from a Feysac family that immigrated to Loen generations ago. He wore a neat traditional butler's suit, black and gray, with a perfect white bow tie and clean white gloves.
"Morning, Fritzh," I said in a forced casual tone, trying to imitate John, who was often not very enthusiastic in the mornings, especially before his first cup of coffee. I tried to show that nothing strange was happening, that everything was proceeding as usual. After all, according to my hope, he wouldn't truly know the difference, right? Or so I desperately hoped, because thinking of the alternative was too frightening.
The other servants bowed their heads slightly towards me as a customary sign of respect. A younger maid than the others, perhaps in her early twenties with neatly tied-up brown hair, stepped forward. She held a neatly folded bathrobe over her arm.
"Your bath is ready, Young Master," she said in a soft voice while offering the bathrobe with both hands.
The robe was pristine white, made of very fine and expensive Egyptian cotton, with the monogram JL subtly embroidered on the pocket. Seeing it, my mind immediately screamed in admiration and a bit of anger: this family is truly extravagant! Even for something not worn regularly and only used momentarily before bathing, they chose something so luxurious and clearly expensive!
Although on Earth I was not at all lacking economically—in fact, I had a very good financial situation and financial freedom thanks to my job as a civil servant—on Earth, I would never buy clothing I wouldn't wear outside or to formal events at such a potentially high price. It felt like an unnecessary waste, an excess of uncontrolled wealth.
Well, I realized it was actually somewhat silly to compare my original life on Earth with John's life or the Lynch family in general. I mean, they could even earn hundreds of thousands of Pounds per month just from the shipping business alone, which is a truly enormous amount even by my Earth standards. Even John himself could easily get twenty thousand Pounds a month due to several assets and investments he owned, money he didn't even have to work for directly.
Heh, I thought with deep irony. Actually, John possesses quite a lot of assets that allow him to earn very large sums of money, both passively and actively. For example, he holds shares in many large companies, banks, and other ventures; he owns estates in the countryside that he doesn't manage himself but yield large rents; and he receives a very substantial allowance from his parents that seems never-ending.
He even still makes money from some antique collection businesses he owns, given that John is a fairly well-known collector of historical or ancient items in certain circles. He would actively seek out ancient objects, buy them at ordinary prices from merchants unaware of their value, and usually sell them at high prices using many psychological tricks and appearances to make buyers believe the item was truly worth that much.
And because he had a social circle filled with truly wealthy and influential people—children of major businessmen, young nobles, and socialites—they wouldn't mind spending hundreds or even thousands of Pounds on items John sold, because for them it was just pocket money to obtain something to boast about.
Hey! If Klein knew about this early on and compared it to himself, who had to save every Penny just to eat and pay rent for his simple room above the police station, I think he would truly cry and feel his transmigration was very unfair. Thinking about such a sharp contrast between my fate and Klein's, the protagonist of this novel, is quite funny yet also makes me feel guilty, hehe.
"Alright, I'll take my bath now," I promptly replied to the younger maid in a carefully controlled normal tone. Actually, observing myself, everything I was doing now was quite similar to the original John. Seriously, having John's memories truly made me, even unconsciously, behave like him too, as if an autopilot took over when I was off guard.
Thinking about that with mixed feelings of relief and wariness, I immediately stood up from the chair and approached the younger maid, then took my bathrobe with a forced casual attitude, trying to mimic John's usual way of accepting service without much talk or thanks.
From a distance, through the slightly open window, I heard the large cathedral of Backlund chime several times with a deep, authoritative sound, so I was sure that it was truly morning and time to start the day.
I left the room with steps I controlled to appear relaxed and immediately walked towards the main bathroom, accompanied by two servants who followed me from behind at a polite distance.
After leaving my room, I used this opportunity to observe everything in this house more carefully than before. It was clear that this house was truly large and designed with magnificent architecture. Some walls were adorned with beautiful paintings in intricate gold frames. For example, there was a large painting depicting a Loen soldier praying with a warship in the background, or another smaller yet detailed painting of the Cathedral of the Church of Steam and Machinery, or several other artworks that truly made me aware of this family's high social status and wealth.
Ah, right. The layout of this house closely resembled the layout of a luxurious Victorian or Edwardian-style house I had only seen in period films or museums. Everything looked symmetrical, majestic, and designed to impress, with wide corridors adorned with expensive Persian carpets and crystal chandeliers reflecting light.
Furthermore, on some other walls, especially near the main staircase, there were animal heads displayed as trophies, as was commonly done by nobles or the wealthy in the Victorian era. For example, a deer head with large, impressive antlers, or a preserved bear head in a roaring pose.
There weren't too many decorations like that, of course, because the Lynch family were businessmen, not nobles, but it was evident that some servants were carefully cleaning the existing decorations, as well as rearranging fresh flower vases or other decorative items on small tables along the corridor.
I quickly passed by many such items and areas, trying not to look too obvious about observing, and finally arrived in front of the main bathroom door made of dark wood with polished bronze handles.
The bathroom, as I expected, was pristine white with gold accents, with several marble ornaments adorning parts of it. The floor was made of shiny white marble with elegant gray veining, and there was a large porcelain white bathtub surrounded by curtains made of high-quality fabric. Even the sink had gold-plated faucets and a large mirror with an intricate frame.
Even the bathroom was still full of expensive and luxurious items! Does this family truly not understand that doing things like this is unnecessary? Really. Such wasteful spending would make any poor person in Loen cry to see it, while out there many struggle to meet their basic needs.
Honestly, the social gap between the rich and the poor in this world is severe and glaring, isn't it? It made me curious about the houses of the true nobles in this world, like the Hall family or even the royal family. Are they even more excessive and wasteful than this house, which is merely the home of a major tycoon whose wealth comes from business, not generational inheritance?
Alright, I realized that using the word "merely" in the statement that this is a Tycoon's family truly underestimates the situation and influence of this family. Besides, I'm thinking too much about things like this and comparing them to Earth standards, right? I must learn to accept that this is my world now, with different rules and norms.
Finally, with a slightly heavy heart from thinking about the social inequality I saw, I immediately decided to put on my bathrobe and promptly closed the bathroom door, locking myself inside for a moment of peace. Then I stood in front of the large mirror hanging above the sink and stared at the unfamiliar face staring back at me.
And I immediately tried to recall the rules I had set for myself amid the initial chaos: DO NOT CHANGE THE PLOT and BE JOHN LYNCH, and tried to repeat them like a mantra that would save me from danger.
My face—or more precisely, John's face—which looked like a typical Loen person with sharp green eyes, neatly arranged black hair, and quite handsome features, stared back at me with an empty expression. It truly felt like staring at someone else and myself at the same time, a dissociative feeling that made me a little dizzy. It was so strange and uncomfortable...
After finishing a quick bath and cleaning myself with bath products whose scents were too luxurious for my taste, I exited the bathroom with a towel wrapped around my waist. Outside the door, the same maid from before was waiting patiently, holding a change of clothes for the next part of the day.
The clothing itself seemed to have many intricate and difficult patterns, with many buttons, strings, and layers, and was clearly quite difficult to put on alone without assistance. Right, after this, according to the John routine I remembered, he would most likely have breakfast with his family in the main dining room, then he would go to some scheduled event or appointment, probably related to the family business or university affairs.
But other than that, I didn't want to think too far ahead about today's schedule. I immediately walked back to my room accompanied by that maid, and there I saw Fritzh and the others had already prepared a special chair in front of the large mirror for me so I could be prepared quickly and efficiently.
I sat there obediently, letting the trained servants do their work. They gently removed my bathrobe and replaced it with the fine clothing layer by layer with skilled movements. I didn't pay much attention to the process, preferring to think about my plan again, but I saw from the mirror's reflection that Fritzh's face twitched slightly, and he seemed to want to say something but hesitated.
"What is it, Fritzh?" I immediately said while looking at the man through the mirror's reflection, deciding to take the initiative. After all, he wouldn't say anything if I didn't try to start a conversation, and this discomfort needed to be addressed. And I didn't know if I was portraying John correctly during this morning's interactions, so if he said something about my strange behavior, I would use it for evaluation and try to act more like John next time.
Fritzh seemed hesitant for a few seconds; his usually calm face showed clear surprise and confusion, but finally he decided to voice what was on his mind.
"Why did you wake up so early today, Young Master? This is not like your usual habit," Fritzh said with a confused expression and a slightly hesitant tone, as if choosing his words carefully to avoid offense.
"I... was trying to decipher Emperor Roselle's cipher again last night and got carried away until late," I said while looking steadily at Fritzh through the mirror, trying to sound confident. After all, it wasn't a lie at all; I had indeed been thinking about how to translate the copies of Roselle's diary pages that John owned and was frustrated at not being able to read them. "I'm still truly curious about what exactly the Emperor's secret is hidden in those strange writings."
"Trying to translate the Emperor's cipher again?" Fritzh raised his whitened eyebrows, showing a little surprise. "Doesn't the Young Master know that even the best linguists in the entire world still don't understand that cipher? Many have tried and failed for decades," Fritzh replied to my statement, his expression beginning to show a faint smile containing a little amusement.
"Well... I can't blame the Young Master for trying to translate it again, although last year when you were so sure you could translate it and spent months on it, you still failed and were deeply disappointed," Fritzh continued in a slightly nostalgic tone, as if reminding me of John's futile perseverance.
"Of course I won't give up trying to translate the Emperor's cipher," I said with a bit more enthusiasm, trying to mimic John's enthusiasm for Roselle. "Besides, as I said last year, I am a special person who will one day be able to figure out what the Emperor actually wrote in that confusing cipher." I also gave a foolish smile that I hoped resembled John's characteristic smile when talking about his idol, while saying that to Fritzh.
After all, what the original John thought—that he was a special person destined to uncover the contents of Roselle's cipher—had come true in an ironic way, hadn't it? I mean, I moved into his body, and I am a LoTM reader who knows that the "cipher" is actually a diary written in Chinese. It's just a pity that knowledge is incomplete and I can't utilize it.
Although, I still don't know all the contents of that diary! Because whoever made me come to this world is very bad and irresponsible, not preparing me with sufficient knowledge before throwing me into this dangerous world.
"Haha. Of course, it's best that the Young Master believes he is special." Fritzh let out a short sound resembling a laugh, his smile now clearer. "After all, the Young Master has been a devoted admirer of Roselle since first hearing his stories at age 10 and has remained so even until your current age of 20. That spirit is commendable," Fritzh said in a warmer tone, showing that he had known John since childhood and understood his obsession.
"You're right," I answered briefly, also trying to mimic an amused smile like Fritzh's, attempting to cover the remaining discomfort.
The servants were almost finished arranging and putting the somewhat difficult-to-wear clothing on me, but they continued working seriously and meticulously until they finally finished dressing me in this luxurious and expensive outfit perfectly, without a single wrong fold.
After they finished, the servants bowed in perfect synchronization and promptly left my now tidy and clean room, leaving me alone with my thoughts once again. In the end, I could only stare into the large mirror because I didn't know what to do next, feeling a little lost in the shadow of a strange self.
I saw the somewhat dim light from the window and immediately stood up to look outside through it, trying to find some kind of affirmation that the world out there was truly real. A large garden was visible in front of the house, with extensive wrought-iron fences and filled with many luxuries and artistically appealing designs—marble fountains, classical statues, and perfectly trimmed plants. Further away, in the distance, there were many upper-class residential areas and some industrial districts with chimneys already beginning to puff smoke into the morning sky.
"This truly convinces me that this is indeed the world of Lord of the Mysteries," I sighed softly after seeing the scene so foreign yet familiar from John's memories. Everything—from the red moon last night to the dominant Victorian architecture, to the visible social patterns—all matched the description in the novel.
Shortly after, a maid returned to my room and said politely, her voice soft yet clearly cutting through the silence, "Young Master, breakfast is ready. Your family is waiting in the dining room."
Author's note: Sorry I didn't upload yesterday, the file was already there but I forgot to upload it. Ah, the story changes start in chapter 5 and onwards!