The bathroom was the kind of place that made you question if you were still in earth.
Every corner whispered elegance — white marble floors with threads of gold that caught the light like frozen lightning, walls etched with soft patterns that looked alive under the faint glow of crystal sconces.
The ceiling wasn't just painted; it was art. Clouds swirled in soft strokes of cream and blue, with golden runes twinkling faintly in between like stars pretending to belong there. From the center hung a chandelier shaped like cascading dewdrops, scattering light in quiet rainbows.
Even the air felt noble — faintly perfumed with lilies and warmth, humming softly like it was breathing with me.
The tub sat in the middle of the room like a throne carved from moonstone, filled with steaming water that shimmered faintly with traces of mana. I could see my reflection ripple across it — unfamiliar yet mine.
I didn't waste a second. I slipped in, the heat wrapping around me like liquid silk. A sigh escaped my lips before I even knew it.
"I died," I whispered, almost casually. "And now I'm here, in a bathroom that probably costs more than my life."
My voice echoed faintly off the marble. It sounded unreal.
I wasn't panicking. I wasn't crying. I wasn't even shocked anymore. Maybe I already did all of that — when I was unconscious.
That place — it wasn't darkness, not really. It was nothing. No sound, no shape, just the sense of floating endlessly in a cold, endless sea. I couldn't see my body, but I could feel it — or maybe I only imagined that I could. Then a faint ripple disturbed the void, and a soft glow began to bloom far away. It grew brighter and brighter until I was standing in the middle of blinding light.
And that's when it began — the memories of this body.
They rushed before me like a movie playing in reverse. Recent moments flashed past, then older ones, then childhood scenes — each fragment sharp, vivid, and disturbingly real. The world spun around me as I watched this stranger's life unspool backward. Yet my mind understood everything perfectly, as if I'd lived it myself.
But as the stream of memories grew faster, a deep unease took root in my chest. These weren't mine. These emotions — joy, sadness, guilt — they weren't born from me, yet I could feel them seeping in, invading the spaces that once belonged to my own memories.
Then came the memories of his parents. The warmth of their voices, the way they smiled, the way they died.
Something inside me snapped.
"No!" I screamed into the black void, clutching my head as pain tore through my skull. "They're not mine! I already have parents — my mom, my dad, waiting for me back home! I won't—"
The more I fought, the heavier the emotions pressed against me. My chest burned, my vision blurred, and I felt my mind tearing in two. My voice cracked into silence, replaced by ragged breathing. I was kneeling on nothing, shaking, begging for the flood to stop.
And then — he appeared.
The original Rishi.
He walked out of the light like a shadow given form, his steps soundless, his expression unreadable. He was me, but not me — same face, same eyes, but colder, older in a way that had nothing to do with time.
"Stop your useless struggle," he said softly. His voice echoed in the emptiness like the toll of a bell.
I glared at him, clutching my head. "Why should I? Why should I accept your life, your memories, your dead parents over mine, who might be waiting for me back home?"
He tilted his head slightly, his expression never changing. "And why do you think your parents are still alive?"
The words hit like a blade. My hands froze midair. "Whether they are or not," I said hoarsely, "is none of your damn business."
"Oh, but it is," he said, calm as ever. "Because we are becoming one so my business is yours and yours is mine"
"Shut up! shut the hell up! whether we are one or different i don't fucking care about it," I snapped. "I won't forget my parents. I won't let anyone replace them!"
He exhaled slowly, as though tired of arguing. For a fleeting second, there was something almost human in his eyes — exhaustion, perhaps, or pity.
"Then let's come to terms," he said. He snapped his fingers, and the torrent of memories halted instantly. The silence that followed was so sharp that it rang in my ears.
I blinked, chest heaving. "What terms?" I asked bitterly. "What new trick are you planning?"
"Not a trick," he replied. "A deal. I'll stop imposing my emotions about my parents. You'll see those memories only as recollections like a movie — nothing more. In exchange, you take my emotions of care, my love, and the familiar bond toward my sister." His voice softened a fraction at the word sister.
I thought it over. A sister's bond could be learned; parents could not be swapped out like old clothes. It wasn't a comfortable bargain, but it was survivable. Siblings could be many; parents are singular. I weighed the small mercy against the fear of losing everything that was truly mine.
"Okay, fine. I accept. What's next?" I asked, voice taut.
"Well, next is simpler. You protect my sister to the best of your abilities in exchange for using my body." His terms were blunt, but at least direct.
"And if I don't accept? What will you do?" I asked, heart thudding.
"Then we can both die together." He said it plainly, as if that were an equally reasonable option.
Huh. So he either couldn't take the body fully or he was bluffing to hide the true scope of his power. Either way, everything had a price, and here we were bargaining over life.
"Fine," I said finally. " I accept your deal. So which contract are we signing to make this binding?" I demanded. In a fantasy world there had to be some solemn soul-contract thing, right?
He blinked at me. "A… contract? How are we going to make contract papers here? Are you planning to sign invisible papers?"
"So what are we going to do to prevent each other from snitching?" I said, not about to be naive.
"Promise," he said simply.
"Promise?" I repeated, nearly laughing. "That's it? You expect me to trust you because you promised?"
"Have you never heard? To find out if someone lies, look into their eyes. Eyes are doors to the soul and souls can't lie" He said it like a proverb. "We're in our soul forms here."
I groaned. "Oh, come on. That sounds like something an ancient granny made up to flirt with priests."
"Do you have a better idea?" he countered.
I stayed silent. He had me there.
"Fine," I muttered finally. "But if this turns out to be a trick, I'll find a way to tear your soul apart, you hear me?"
A faint smile crossed his face. "Then we are on same ground."
and so stared our negotiation and monitoring each of the word said during oath to leave no loopholes. Every sentence glowed gold as we spoke it, light threads forming between us, weaving through the air, through our souls. When it was over, the golden light dimmed and sank into us, disappearing entirely. The void trembled once, then stilled.
I came out of my inner monologue. The water had cooled, and the gentle ripples shimmered under the soft golden light. My breathing steadied, my thoughts grew clearer.
I rose, dried myself with a towel soft enough to shame clouds, and reached for the clothes Lira had prepared.
The outfit fit like it had been carved for me: a white high-collared shirt embroidered with fine gold along the cuffs and collar, a dark vest that sat close to the chest, trousers that hugged the legs and boots polished to a muted shine. The fabrics smelled faintly of cedar and lavender, and every stitch spoke of wealth meant to impress without shouting.
I looked at my reflection. I still looked like me, but refined. Hair darker, eyes sharper, features cut like a sculpture — lean rather than bulky, dangerous rather than approachable. There was a nobility in my bearing I hadn't earned, a posture bred into the bones of the man I'd borrowed.
Yeah, my first name is still Rishi. The surname, though — Ashvale — belonged to one of the powerful ducal households of the human empire. My full name now felt odd and heavy on the tongue: Rishi Von Ashvale.
"Guess it's time to meet my new world."
My stomach growled.
"…Right after breakfast."