Elias's eyelids slowly opened. His vision was still blurred and dizziness lingered; his head throbbed with an irritating pulse. He could hear Eleazar shouting, yet even though he knew the boy was yelling, the sound felt distant, as if carried from far away. Gradually, his rapid breathing began to slow.
Elias managed to sit upright, bringing a large hand to his face. He rubbed his eyes roughly, and at last he could make out what Eleazar was saying:
"Brother, you nearly scared me to death."
"Brother, are you alright?"
"Brother, I was—"
"Brother—"
The headache surged back violently. Unable to bear it any longer, Elias snapped, turning toward the voice.
"Could you please be quiet?"
The room fell silent at once.
As his senses returned, his vision sharpened. He saw that the one speaking was a child lying in bed, his cheeks hollow, his face sunken like that of a critically ill patient who belonged in a hospital rather than on a mattress.
But what unsettled Elias most was something else entirely.
He was somewhere unfamiliar.
He did not recognize this place. His expression filled with visible shock as a flood of memories surged into his mind, forcing him to press his fingers to his temples.
They were Elias's memories…
…but the current Elias did not know whose they truly were.
"Is this a dream?" he murmured.
Wuhan, China — 2017
Text message — Zhen Chen
"Hey, did you know there's a book with strange words that no one has been able to decipher for years?"
Wang Lin was in his room working on a university assignment. Hearing the notification sound, he turned his head slightly to see who it was. When he realized it was Zhen Chen, his best friend, he picked up his phone and opened the message.
Open message:
"It's real. It was discovered by a man named William James, who lived in a rundown building in 1556, in a city lost to war. He found it because his neighbor — a man who died after translating it — was discovered dead by William James.
That man was eventually known as Elias Carsel. Since William James couldn't understand either the translation or the book itself, he sent the manuscript to a philosopher friend, but he couldn't decipher it either and passed it on. No one managed to understand it.
Now it's called The William James Manuscript and it became one of the world's mysteries. It's really amazing. But since they couldn't recover Elias Carsel's translation — they had to vacate the apartment — they threw everything away, including the translated book. By the time the man realized, it was already too late.
Today they released the pages after years, since they still couldn't decipher them. Look."
Wang Lin read the message Zhen Chen had sent. They had been friends since childhood, and for some reason Zhen Chen had always been fascinated by mysteries of the universe and the paranormal. Wang Lin didn't care much for those things, yet he still read and listened to whatever his friend shared.
Images received
"It's really incredible. There are drawings of claws and plants — it's creepy… do you think that Elias Carsel really died from deciphering it?"
Wang Lin zoomed in on the images. He examined each line carefully, paying special attention to page fifty-seven, which seemed to be the manuscript's center.
It was strange.
The words made sense because patterns repeated — things like los, eu, and ll. It didn't look random at all.
It was a language.
Wang Lin tore a few sheets from his notebook and picked up a pen, beginning to analyze each word from the images.
"This is really difficult… it must be old Spanish or Italian," he murmured.
With that in mind, he opened his computer and enlarged the images. Realizing they were written in cursive, he began rewriting them, then tried writing them backwards. When that didn't fully work, he noticed traces of archaic Italian and spelling inconsistencies throughout the manuscript.
"This is truly a difficult case… but I managed to form sentences with meaning. If we combine dor and em… the rest reads emperor. Heh… let's see what Zhen Chen says about this."
After assembling the final image, he rewrote everything from the beginning until the sentence emerged:
"Only the key to the universe lies within your mind. I am your emperor. Your death will be your pride. I am the… reason."
After reading it, Wang Lin frowned and snapped a photo.
"This manuscript is a big joke. I don't know who's arrogant enough to write something like that."
Message sent.
Notification — Zhen Chen
"Wooooa! Wang Lin, man, you're a genius. You translated a manuscript with a sheet of paper and a pencil like it was nothing."
Wang Lin locked his phone after reading the reply.
"Honestly… this is stupid," he muttered.
He tried to return to his assignment, but his vision blurred again and the headache intensified with every passing second. His breathing grew heavy, harder and harder to control.
Aswall — 1556
"Elias" looked at Eleazar on the bed. He could hear the boy's quiet sobs, see his thin shoulders trembling like fragile sticks. Elias pressed a hand to his forehead again.
"So that's how I died… and my consciousness traveled through time… and now I'm inside Elias Carsel's body… which means…"
Thinking of something, he turned and saw the translated book the original Elias had completed before dying.
"There might be something that can send me back to my body… I… I can't die like this."
He thought this while flipping frantically through the manuscript. By now Eleazar had stopped sobbing, listening instead to the sound of pages turning.
"Brother…?" he asked cautiously.
He was afraid of being shouted at again. His brother had never raised his voice at him before.
"It's nothing… there's… nothing, haha," Elias laughed as he kept turning pages. "I really… died."
He murmured under his breath and lifted his gaze to the wooden ceiling. His eyes filled with tears that threatened to fall. He had always been a pampered boy who had never faced real consequences: he attended a good university, had good grades, few friends, yet everything he wanted — cars, luxuries, money — and women always sought him out.
Now, however, he lived in a body whose name he had never even heard… until that very day, when Zhen Chen mentioned that this city had been lost to war centuries ago, and that this man had been thrown into the streets — likely along with the child behind him.
"Brother… are you alright?" Eleazar coughed.
Still staring at the ceiling, Elias straightened and replied,
"I'm fine. It's late. You should sleep."
He stood and put on a jacket.
"Brother, where are you going at this hour?" Eleazar asked worriedly.
He had never seen his brother leave at night, much less leave him alone.
"I'm going out for a moment. I need some air."
"Will you be long?"
"I don't think so. I just need air. Sleep."
"Alright, brother… please be careful."
Elias opened the door without answering. He stepped outside, walked a few paces, then stopped and covered his nose.
"What kind of smell…? It reeks of filth," he muttered, holding his breath as he hurried down the stairs. Rats and waste filled the building's corners. Unable to bear it any longer, he rushed toward the exit. Outside, he could finally breathe — though the smell wasn't pleasant, it was still better than inside.
He checked his pockets and found a one-pound note and a few coins. He looked around.
"Isn't there a tavern around here…?"
He searched his memories — Elias's memories — and recalled a cavern-like bar. Dejected, he walked toward it through the freezing night. Prostitutes, refuse, and foul smells choked the air.
After a while, he finally found the place.
When he opened the door, he saw six tables, three occupied. It was small. Ahead stood a counter where a man was cleaning mugs that, strangely enough, were made of wood. Another man in a hat and black coat seemed to have been reading while drinking.
Elias scanned the room carefully. The calmest place seemed to be beside that man.
The drinkers at the tables glanced at him, then looked away.
"Well, well… looks like a student came to drink. How unexpected," one of them mocked.
Laughter filled the room.
Elias ignored them and sat beside the man.