His eyes was wide open breathing slowly.
Only his faint breathing sound can be heard across his damp room which was lighted by lights which crept through a closed window.
For a clerk his room wasn't too shabby but slightly focused on minimalism than comfort.
A simple wooden bed with a single sheets and a wool blanket. On the extreme right, a sturdy wooden desk and a wooden chair . Just besides the bed on right side a candle stand stood with a candle burned to half.
And just besides the worn map pasted at the wall, near the entrance, a calendar hanged in a tiny nail, dangling as it were going to fall onto the ground, it's abit strange but the month, the day and time are same here as on earth.
To put it simply it's like an alternative version of the earth.
And the year, 234 E.P. which sounds awkward somehow.
"The view hasn't changed that means I'm stuck here for another week or I could assume I'm stuck here forever".
He said to himself looking up at the ceiling .
His eyes drifted around the shabby room.
After a short pause he sighed.
He wakes up slowly and walks towards the window.
As soon as he push opened the window the faint sound of the outside became clear as if waters are gushing into his ears at all once.
A classic view of eighteenth century.
From the tall, rain-streaked window, the town of the steam age unfolds like a dream half-remembered.
Below, rows of iron-roofed buildings huddle together, their silhouettes softened by rolling layers of fog that drift like a living thing. Gas lamps glow faintly through the haze, each one a trembling star in a sea of gray. Chimneys breathe steadily, exhaling warm plumes that rise and vanish, as if the town itself is quietly "alive."
At the very heart of it all stands the giant clock, a towering monument of brass and steel. Its exposed gears turn with solemn patience, every tick echoing through the mist like a promise that "time never stops." The clock face glows amber, its hands cutting through the fog, watching over the town with an almost "sentient" calm.
Far beyond the clock, where the streets dissolve into shadow, a train announces itself. A distant whistle pierces the silence-long, mournful, and full of longing. The engine emerges briefly from the fog, black and powerful, pistons pumping as it releases a thunderous puff of steam. For a moment, it feels less like a machine and more like a "mechanical beast" crossing the boundary between worlds.
From this window, the air hums with motion and memory. The fog curls against the glass, blurring the line between observer and dream, and you can't help but feel that this town-this breathing, ticking, steaming place-is waiting for something to "begin."
(steam age may suit better). A world filled with steams and magic. He was mesmerized by the foggy view of the city but then the hands of the cathedral giant clock suddenly struck 10 o 'clock which snapped him out of his fancy.
"Oh shoot, I'm late."
The words slipped out as the cathedral bell's echo still rang in his ears. He lurched away from the window and leaned over the narrow washbasin, cranking the stiff brass valve. With a hiss, steam-warm water spilled forth, and he splashed his face, the fatigue of sleepless nights clinging stubbornly to him like soot.
He straightened, adjusting his threadbare coat-its seams polished thin by years of clerical labor and settled his worn hat atop his head. The mirror reflected a man already weighed down by deadlines and ticking clocks, a "nameless cog" in the city's endless machinery.
Grabbing his satchel, he stepped into the corridor, turned the key, and locked the door behind him. As the lock clicked shut, the pipes in the walls groaned in sympathy, urging him onward-back into the fog, back into work, back into the relentless rhythm of the steam-driven world.
Castor Valerius a 21 years old clerk. He look stressed due to his work but he has fine,a strong chiseled,square jawline, unruly dark hair, tall and athletic body. He work at The Ledger- House : a massive cathedral like hall filled with high desks, where thousands of clerks records empire's taxes and trade tariff, which is under or associated with The Lumerian East-Wharf-Company (one of the powerful joint stock company)
Located at the city of Grand Lumerian near the famous blackforge-bakery. He doesn't live that far from his work place so he always walks all the way to work instead of taking a carriage.
* he just make it sound like it's not that far but actually it's a great distance and can be tiresome if he walks all the way without taking a carriage *- talks about cheap huh
*That's not all, he would avoid buying stuff the whole weekend and wait for Saturday diminution*
--- Saturday diminution is the insane price drop of every thing that is sold as an agreement that was made during the The "Secondth Great-Joint Counselling" of the five parts of the Kingdom ---
The kingdom Pentarchy of Lumesia.
( A sprawling,soot stained empire fueled by 'Heat of Forge') Consisted of five major parts divided by their landscape and vocations.
He live in "The Loen-staad " also known as The Imperial Heart. As it sounds it is the centermost part of the Kingdom- the administrative and financial Agora.
' Grand Canal ' connects the four remaining territories to it . Loen-sted is considered the cleanest part among the five. But it's military power is lesser compared to other major parts.
As he walks down the foggy streets, on his way to the office he met Thomas, his friend and fellow clerk,emerged from the fog ahead, a broad smile on his face. He wore his usual slightly too tight waistcoat and a pertually optimistic expression.
"Good morning, Castor "
"Yes good morning, Thomas." Castor returned the greeting, a genuine smile forming on his lips. The sight of his friend, so utterly normal, grounded him.
"Going late again, are we?" Thomas clapped on the shoulder, his smile wavering slightly.
"That's two days in a row, I don't think we'll last if we keep this up" He leaned conspiratorially.
" I, at least, have a great excuse today, thanks to my wife. Haha. What about you, Castor? Why are you late? And why do you look so....focused?"
"Having any trouble?" Inquired Thomas
Castor could barely get to speak.
"You think so?" Castor met Thomas's gaze directly.
"Yes, you're not your usual self " Thomas's jovial tone softened to one of genuine concern.
"Is that so?"
"Is that so?" Castor dreaded while looking up at the sky in lazy manner.
" I suppose I've had a rather.. eventful morning."
" Eventful?" Thomas raised an eyebrow, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes.
" You always used to talk about how you lived in different world as different person.
About how accidentally you pulled an underpant out of a hat, instead of bunny while performing as a magician, having three wives as a hero for defeating the demon God ,getting The Pillory for...."
"Yes, yes stop there, I get it." Castor interrupted, a playful glint in his eyes .
"I suppose I'm just a little hungry today" said Castor as if he doesn't want him to speak further. He watched Thomas, a small, subtle experiment forming in his mind. He focused a fraction, on a loose button on Thomas's waistcoat. The button almost imperceptibly, vibrates.
Thomas frowned, oblivious,"Don't tell me you haven't had any breakfast" Thomas stepped trying to catch Castor's eye.
"Just don't feel like having that's all." slowly walkes past Thomas by avoiding his stare, his attention still subtly on the button.
"Alright it's decided then, I'll buy you a breakfast from the blackforge bakery near our office" Thomas beamed, falling into step beside him.
" Wait, I don't…" Castor feigned protest, then grinned. "If you insist, then I'll take it. But don't expect me to pay you back, okay?"
He winked, the button on Thomas's waistcoat now trembling faintly.
"Haha, you're a cheapskate as always!" Thomas laughed, completely unaware of the minute tremor in his clothing. "Okay, okay."
They continued their walk, the city slowly stirring around them. The Blackforge Bakery, a beacon of warmth and delicious aromas, soon appeared through the fog.
They entered, the rich scent of fresh bread and roasted coffee enveloping them. Thomas ordered two hearty pastries and two steaming mugs of black coffee.
"And one more thing," Castor said, taking a bite of his flaky pastry, the taste sharp and wonderful. "I'm quitting the job today." He watched Thomas's face, enjoying the stunned expression.
"What?!" Thomas shouted, nearly dropping his coffee. The other patrons in the bakery glanced over.
Castor chuckled, enjoying the reaction. "But on second thought, I'm not quitting. I mean, I need money, and there's nothing else to work. Besides, I don't want to lose my one and only dear friend." He offered a wide, disarming smile.
Thomas let out a relieved breath, running a hand through his perpetually messy hair.
"Don't worry, you'll be fine as long as you stick with me." He took a large gulp of coffee. "Anyway, when are you getting married? You know you definitely need someone to look after you."
Castor's face, despite his newfound calm, flushed slightly. "Huh? Where did that come from?"
"I mean, you have fine looks, a stable job, but it is unfortunate that you don't hav…"
"Alright, stop there." Castor interrupted, a 'no-way' smile on his face. "You know I don't have time for those fancies." He subtly focused on Thomas's coffee mug. It vibrated, sending tiny ripples across the surface.
"Come on, don't be like that. I mean, Mary seems fond of you. She's a fine girl, you know." Thomas winked, an intrusive smile spreading across his face.
Castor let the mug settle. "Whatever. I already have something important to do first. Anyway, have you heard of the 'Watchers'?" He watched Thomas's expression carefully.
Thomas paused, the mention of the Watchers wiping the smile from his face. "You mean those guys who lurk in the night, fighting darkness that keeps spreading? What about them?" His voice was lower, tinged with a nervous respect.
"Nothing, just asking." Castor took another bite of his pastry, the sweetness a stark contrast to the grim topic.
They finished their breakfast and walked the short distance to The Ledger-House. The massive cathedral-like hall, filled with rows upon rows of high desks, hummed with the monotonous industry of hundreds of clerks. The air was thick with the smell of ink, parchment, and the faint, metallic tang of the city's steam engines.
( " Clerk " a white collar job which lies between the wealthy elite and manual labour. Before typewriters was introduced every transaction was recorded by hands. For that many stock office would hire many clerks ( as a result-their pay is comparatively low). Compared to manual labourers they're free from grease and dirt which was the only difference.
Even though Castor work as a clerk in the most renowned stock company of the city Grand-Lumeria. A clerk is still a clerk he could barely afford a comfortable living with his monthly pays).
Castor Valerius is originally not from this world. He is what you can call a "Transmigrated " from another world residing in Castor's body. His real name is Kingson Pan a highschool student.
What's strange is that after living in a world for eight days, he would wake up to find himself in completely different world from before. He was enjoying his life in the previous world, but being stuck as clerk for half a month in this world. Today he finally decided to search for a way to go back and firstly to find the cause of his transmigration.
He decided to join the ' Watcher ' a group of people who deals with things beyond human understandings. Thought it was just a rumour and no one have really seen them.