"Was this man murdered? Did they put me in the body of a murder victim? What if they realize I'm not dead and come back to finish the job… Calm down. Calm down... You're just on edge. Maybe it was just a robbery gone wrong." he muttered to himself, placing a hand over his heart and taking a few deep breaths to calm down.
However, the sound of the heavy downpour outside, accompanied by relentless lightning and thunder, didn't help to soothe his nerves. He walked back to where he had been lying and stared at the pool of blood on the floor.
'I have to clean this up', he thought.
With the little light of the candle, he tried to understand where he was. It looked like an office. There was a sofa and two armchairs, with a coffee table in front of them. The rug on the floor resembled the Persian carpets from his own world. The wooden floor creaked with every step. The walls and window frames of the room gave the impression of being inside an old castle.
"An old building. The furniture looks like something from 100–150 years ago in my world… They didn't send me into the past, did they?" he thought, momentarily startled by the similarity of the objects.
He walked over to the table where he had taken the candle from earlier and began examining the documents on it. Although the alphabet was unfamiliar, he could read it, but his mind was not yet accustomed enough to make sense of what he was reading.
Behind the desk, he saw a door separated by a folding screen. When he opened it, he saw that this place was a bedroom. This room was brighter than the office-like room with the light of the burning fireplace. He set the candle on the nightstand and began rummaging through his pockets. He pulled out a wallet and a cardholder. There were business cards belonging to the owner of this body: Private Detective Caspian Mortis.
"So he was a detective. This must be his office… A private detective murdered during a robbery in his own office? That doesn't sound right at all. Sh*t… I just warned them to give me a decent life. What kind of mess did they throw me into?"
At that moment, a knock on the door made every hair on his body stand on end. He looked for something he could use to attack if someone came at him. Then he grabbed the scissors he had seen in the first drawer he opened and headed toward the door. The knocking continued.
He slowly approached the door and pulled it open, only to find a man in a Hawaiian shirt, soaked from head to toe. Until he saw him, he had forgotten the fact that this person had also been sent into this new life along with him.
"I wanted to be sent somewhere by the sea… We really are by the sea… but I think I now understand why people should be more specific when they pray to God," the man said in a broken voice. James couldn't tell if the drops falling from the man's eyes were raindrops or tears.
...
They sat together in front of the burning fireplace for a while. One was thinking about how his dreams of retirement had collapsed in seconds, while the other wondered what the life ahead of him would bring.
After a moment, James spoke.
"What's your name?"
"My name?.. We don't have names. If you want, I can tell you the code number assigned to me. Ninety-nine…"
"No, no" James interrupted him.
"If you're going to live here now, you need a name. You can't be called by numbers. And I'm not going to keep you with me. You're free to leave."
"I don't think I can do that. I'm sorry, but I'm stuck with you. If they notice I've left your side, they'll probably dispose of me immediately."
This time, James was sure that what was running down the man's face was not rain, but tears.
"Alright then… we're both alone here, after all. Let's see what we can do. First, let's find you a name. Is there anything you'd like?"
"Oh… I've never thought about it before. How about… Palm? Would Palm work?"
"Palm, like a palm tree?" James asked, glancing at the patterns on the man's shirt.
"Yes… I've never actually seen one in person. I wonder if they exist in this world."
"I don't know… Fine, your name is Palm. We'll decide on a last name after we've explored this world a bit. My new name is Caspian Mortis."
"The murdered detective," Palm said, as if mentioning a trivial detail.
"You know about that? That it was a murder?" Caspian—the former James—asked in panic.
"Yes, I saw it when I looked at the computer."
"Then who killed this man?"
"It didn't say that much. Those records are kept elsewhere. Besides, since the data came from an afterlife office responsible for another world, there wasn't much information," said Palm, the former Death Clerk.
"Do you know what kind of world this is? Ah... I should have asked for more information before coming here. I was so angry I couldn't think straight." he said, smacking his forehead.
"I was only responsible for your world. I have no information about the rest. There are millions of worlds."
"Was it really that hard? Among millions of options in the universe, was it truly impossible to find a wealthy, handsome young man who had died of natural causes in the modern era?" Caspian thought, his eyes fixed on the fire dancing in the fireplace.
But he was determined. One way or another, he would live this life without getting himself killed again. He was going to survive. The idea of dying again so soon was intolerable to him. And then, even if it meant using threats, he would guarantee a better existence for his next reincarnation.