In the darkness of a corner reeking of rot, where moisture seeped from every side, a group of children lay in deep slumber, their frail bodies struggling against the biting cold.
"Klaus! Klaus, wake up! You promised me you'd bring me white bread!"
A young girl's voice pierced the silence. The boy stirred slowly, and in that instant, an exquisite necklace shimmered around his neck—a relic from another world, entirely alien to this misery.
The girl's eyes widened as she stared at the necklace. "You told me you didn't find anything yesterday... were you lying to me?"
Meanwhile, Klaus's mind was in a frantic struggle. Didn't I die? he whispered to himself in disbelief. I remember the fire... the flames devouring my body... I don't even know why. And who is this girl? She's so talkative... and her features are European, yes...
"Answer me, Klaus! Why didn't you give it to me as a birthday present? It was yesterday, and you brought nothing! I'm telling my sister, Venicia!"
Klaus felt an immense pressure. Is she really talking to me? A piercing headache seized him, making him silently curse this reality. He clutched his head as drops of blood began to trickle from his nose.
The little girl faltered, her tone shifting to concern. "What's wrong, Klaus? If you want it that badly, you can keep it, okay? I don't even want bread today... I'll go get Felix!" She bolted away in a panic.
As he gripped his head in pain, strange images flooded his mind like a torrential tide—memories he hadn't lived: Venicia, Felix, and the pestering little Eliya. He realized then that the original Klaus had died from an infected wound. Looking at his scarred hand, he saw the wounds had healed completely and mysteriously. "Well," he muttered, "this is certainly unexpected."
He took a deep breath. "I'll settle for this name for now... and let's see where this journey leads."
Moments later, a teenage boy and a girl of the same age rushed in, their faces etched with worry. "Klaus, are you okay?" they cried.
"Yes," Klaus replied with an uncharacteristically calm tone. "I'm fine, just a slight headache. Sorry for scaring you."
Felix sighed in relief. "Fine. You won't be joining us on the next mission; we can't afford any mistakes. You'll stay here with Eliya."
"Okay."
A sudden silence fell. Felix and Venicia exchanged bewildered glances, but Eliya was the most shocked of all.
"Just... okay?" Felix asked in disbelief. "You're not going to scream and insist on following us like you always do?"
Klaus replied with cold rationality, "I said 'okay.' My health might bring more trouble than benefit right now."
Eliya approached him, wide-eyed. "Hey! Are you really the Klaus I know?"
Venicia cut her off with a proud smile. "Stop it, Eliya. It seems our brother is finally growing up... right, Felix?"
Felix coughed lightly. "Ahem... yes, it seems so."
Eliya jumped with excitement. "Well, I won't complain! At least I'll have someone to play with instead of staying here alone all night."
"Yes," Klaus replied simply.
After five hours of relentless, exhausting play, Klaus groaned, "Eliya, how about we stop and rest for a bit?"
"No! You promised you'd play with me!"
"I said play," he sighed, "not this torture."
Eliya's eyes gleamed with mischief. "Fine. How about you and I go out and explore the outside?"
Klaus's eyes widened. "What? Are you insane?"
"Just for an hour, please!"
Klaus studied her for a long time. "So, this was your plan all along, Eliya—to torture me with play until I finally surrendered." Eliya flinched slightly; Klaus seemed frighteningly sharp this time. With a mix of feigned innocence and regret, she whispered, "Please... just for a little while."
"Fine," he sighed. "Just for a short time."
She leaped with joy. "Long live my brother!"
Klaus muttered as he stood up, "Well, I'll try to navigate this life for the second time."
"What was that?" Eliya asked.
"Nothing."
As they emerged from the bleak tunnels of the sewers, they were greeted by the massive, silver moon that dominated the sky, bathing the entire city in its light.
The streets were a symphony of contradictions: refined gentlemen and ladies strolling with excessive elegance, side-by-side with weary laborers struggling for their next meal, exhaustion etched into their faces. Street vendors were scattered everywhere, and high-quality candles illuminated the shopfronts, while smoke from factories and houses billowed into the sky like clouds, creating a scene of both magic and toil.