Chapter 163 – Magic: The Gathering
Fresh air.
A neatly arranged carpet.
A dry, soft velvet bed.
And at the far end of the room, a glass window stood open, where white curtains swayed gently in the wind.
Not far from Charles's feet, a burned hole in the floorboards still emitted faint wisps of smoke. The scattered traces left behind by several young people who had secretly gathered here made the room look slightly messy.
From outside the door came the faint sounds of footsteps in the corridor, servants chatting quietly, and the distant murmurs of security guards patrolling the lawn beyond the house.
All of it made Charles feel somewhat dazed.
His mind now worked more clearly and rationally than before, making him unusually sensitive to the environment around him.
Sunlight washed over his body, bringing a faint warmth.
As he scanned the room, the world before his eyes seemed sharper and more real than ever.
Everything felt different.
The world.
Himself.
And even his own heart.
Inside his chest, it felt as if a heavy burden had been lifted.
In the past, his mind had always seemed clouded by shadows and unease. Yet now, for some reason, he felt a strange sense of clarity and relief.
Why?
Had the burden lifted because the disguise spell had been stripped away?
Or was it due to some hidden flaw within his own soul?
Or perhaps…
that bizarre Wraith Substitute?
In the past, Charles had never thought there was anything strange about it. To him, it had simply been an extremely useful ability.
But when its outer layers were peeled away and he finally saw its true form, he couldn't help feeling uncomfortable.
After all, although he had practiced the spell himself, this was the first time he had truly seen how it actually looked when attached to his soul.
"With something like that wrapped around my spirit," he thought silently, "it would be strange if it didn't affect me somehow…"
Feeling slightly relieved, Charles soon shifted his attention to another question.
"So… that sharp-tongued bastard actually helped me?"
"What exactly was he?"
"Some kind of creature from that strange place?"
"Or something born from the influence of the Wraith Substitute?"
"Or… was it simply myself?"
He had no way of knowing.
The Eye of Reality had only regained its effect after he returned. Everything he experienced during that mysterious interval remained completely unclear.
Still, regardless of what that entity had been, it seemed to have helped him in an unexpected way.
For the first time since arriving in this world, Charles had been forced to seriously reflect on everything he had done since his transmigration.
"Hypocrite… overly sentimental…"
He frowned slightly.
Then he lowered his head to examine himself.
But outwardly—
nothing had changed at all.
When Charles left the river-like realm and returned to the Necromancer Ascension Space, his mind had still been occupied with the things that had been said to him. By the time he truly came back to his senses, he had already left that place entirely and returned here—
the Cranston Estate in the capital of the Dulin.
Returning to the main world meant the Eye of Reality had begun recharging, so he couldn't immediately see what rewards he had actually gained.
But that didn't mean Charles knew nothing about the changes in himself.
Without the Eye of Reality the details weren't as clear, but the differences were obvious.
His mind was sharper.
His thoughts were clearer.
The faint perception of his spirit felt purer and more transparent.
The sunlight-like power filling his body had become more active, and the connection between his spirit and physical body felt far more… harmonious.
It felt as though this was the real him—
not the slightly muddled version he had been before.
"Certain… hidden dangers were removed?"
Charles silently repeated that phrase, deep in thought.
But he didn't get long to reflect.
A knock suddenly sounded at the door, followed by a hesitant voice.
"B-brother… are you there?"
Charles frowned slightly.
He stood and opened the door.
As expected, standing outside was his younger brother.
Under Charles's gaze, the boy's green eyes flickered nervously. He stammered,
"B-brother, I'm… sorry, I… eh?"
Halfway through speaking, he suddenly stopped, staring at Charles in surprise.
"What?" Charles asked.
"B-brother… when did you change your clothes?"
Charles froze for a moment and quickly looked down.
The black robe from that medieval world immediately came into view.
"Running around all day and I forgot to change…" he thought helplessly.
Outwardly, however, he simply shrugged casually.
"I bought a vintage robe and just tried it on to see how it looked. Anyway—what did you want?"
Hearing that, Allen didn't think too much about it and continued stammering.
"I… brother, I shouldn't have…"
"You shouldn't have used my room?" Charles finished for him.
"Yes." Allen nodded quickly.
"It's fine," Charles said calmly. "I forgive you."
As he spoke, he grabbed the door handle and began to close it.
But before he shut it, something suddenly occurred to him.
"Oh, right."
Charles rubbed his chin and then opened his arms toward the boy.
"We haven't seen each other in months. Shouldn't we have a hug?"
"Uh…"
Allen's face instantly turned pale. Seeing Charles smiling at him, he instinctively took a step back.
But in the end he still stepped forward and hugged him—though his body trembled slightly.
Why is he so scared of me? I didn't find any special memories about that…
Perplexed, Charles patted his back and then released him.
Clearing his throat, he said,
"If there's nothing else, you can go."
"O-okay!"
Allen nodded rapidly and practically ran away.
Charles watched him leave with some confusion but didn't think too deeply about it.
Instead, he closed the door and looked down at his palm.
A gold-edged card had quietly appeared there.
Facing Charles's gaze, the golden borders shimmered faintly.
Although he didn't fully understand how his new talent worked yet, instinctively he had already grasped part of it. That was why he had hugged Allen earlier.
The hug itself wasn't important.
The contact was.
By touching someone, the talent called Walking Fate could activate.
And the result of that activation…
Looking at the card in his hand—remarkably similar to the Magic: The Gathering cards he remembered from Earth—Charles grew very curious.
The card was rectangular.
Everything printed on it was extremely clear.
On the surface was a cartoon-like illustration of Allen fleeing in panic, vividly drawn.
Below the image appeared lines of text.
---
Allen Cranston, native of Borso County, Kingdom of Dulin.
Biological father: Turner Cranston, Minister of Finance of Dulin.
Biological mother: Rosa, deceased.
Has an older brother: Charles Cranston.
Currently studying at Dulin Royal Academy.
Well-behaved student with excellent grades.
Three months ago, began studying the path of a Fire Mage.
Secretly in love with the eldest daughter of the Minister of Etiquette, but troubled because Princess Eillen of the royal family is pursuing him.
This weekend, he will attend a secret gathering with companions at Abandoned Factory No. 03, Fat Earl District, Outer City of Dulin.
Currently in a state of unease due to his brother's return.
---
"State of unease?"
Charles muttered in confusion, though he didn't dwell on it.
After examining the card for a while and finding nothing else unusual, he followed his instincts and flicked his hand.
The card instantly turned into specks of golden light and vanished.
Then he sat down on a chair by the window, stroking his chin as he pondered what exactly this new talent could do.
Unfortunately—
today was destined to be anything but peaceful.
Before he could think for long, the estate's butler arrived with a carpenter to repair the burned floorboards, interrupting his thoughts.
Charles stood nearby with his arms crossed, watching the old carpenter hammer away noisily.
The constant bangs and clatters quickly became irritating.
Eventually he left the room and headed outside for some fresh air.
But as soon as he stepped out, he ran into the current mistress of the Cranston Estate, who had just returned from a noble music salon.
"Hey there, little Charles. Long time no see."
Charles's mouth twitched slightly.
The woman standing before him was short, plump, and heavily powdered, dressed in flamboyant clothing. She barely reached his neck in height.
His stepmother.
"Aren't you supposed to be at the salon?" Charles asked. "The butler said you wouldn't return until after seven."
"The salon had to pause for a bit, so I came home early," Mrs. Cranston said with a cheerful smile, her small eyes curiously scanning him from head to toe.
Just by looking at her, it was obvious she wasn't his biological mother.
In fact, she wasn't even Allen's mother.
She was Turner Cranston's second wife.
Charles had never seen the original body's real mother.
But seeing this woman gave him a very clear idea of his father's questionable taste in women.
After exchanging some stiff, fake pleasantries, Mrs. Cranston waddled upstairs, her heavy hips swaying.
Charles let out a quiet sigh of relief.
Unfortunately, that seemed to trigger something.
Soon afterward, people began arriving at the estate one after another.
Ladies here, young misses there.
Apparently Mrs. Cranston had brought her entire music salon back with her.
Most of the guests were polite enough on the surface, and many even expressed surprise at Charles's new, energetic appearance.
A few middle-aged ladies even chased him around asking questions.
It quickly became exhausting.
Fortunately, Charles didn't have a particularly good reputation here, so he didn't bother maintaining appearances.
After giving them a few cold stares, the aristocratic women—who might look shallow but were actually quite shrewd—quickly took the hint and went upstairs.
Finally—
his cheap father returned.
---
Count Cranston looked just as wealthy and comfortable as Charles remembered.
He wore an elegant gentleman's tailcoat, but it couldn't hide his large belly.
Short neck.
Round face.
Always smiling.
"Perfect match with his wife," Charles thought.
When the count entered and noticed Charles, he grinned widely and immediately gave him a big hug.
"Oh! Long time no see! My son looks like a completely different person—full of energy!"
We're not actually that close, Charles thought silently.
But of course he couldn't say that aloud.
So he just laughed politely.
After exchanging some insincere pleasantries, the count gestured for him to follow upstairs into a study.
The moment they stepped inside and closed the door—
the cheerful smile instantly vanished from the fat noble's face.
He loosened his collar irritably, grabbed a glass of water from the desk, and drank it in one gulp before sitting down heavily behind the desk.
Then he looked at Charles and said through gritted teeth:
"I heard that the moment you came back, you burned a hole in the floor."
"I'm very sorry," Charles replied sincerely.
"If you were sorry, you wouldn't have done something so stupid!"
"Actually, it wasn't intentional."
Like hell it wasn't, the count thought, his eyelids twitching.
But after staring at Charles for a moment, he suddenly smiled again.
"Haven't seen you in a few months, and you've grown quite bold."
"What? You joined the Church, and now you think you don't have to respect me anymore?"
Charles raised an eyebrow but didn't answer.
The count chuckled.
"You really think I'll let you join the Church's Demon Hunter squad?"
Charles didn't know how the man had learned about that.
But it didn't really matter.
"You don't seem to have much choice," Charles replied calmly.
"Not necessarily."
The count still smiled.
But then, inexplicably, he changed the subject.
"I heard you've been writing a book."
"I haven't."
"Haven't you?"
Leaning back in his chair, the fat noble studied Charles carefully before speaking again.
"I think… you should learn to restrain your temper."
Charles frowned.
"What do you mean?"