Chapter Text
I woke up having one of those headaches, you know, when you are certain that your brain is going to explode, and you will die, and everything around you is spinning.
A voice came from somewhere in the room.
“Would you like some water, Your Grace?”
That sounds good.
I think I need water, but why “Your Grace”?
I looked at the voice’s owner. He was one of my servants.
There was something wrong, because I don’t have any servants.
No normal person of the 21st century should have any servants.
Feeling my throat dry, I answered, “Yes.”
My voice did not sound like my own. It sounded masculine, something that I was not.
I think.
I’m very confused right now, and this headache is not helping.
As I accepted the glass of water, I noticed that my hands also looked different.
The young man was right, and I was “Your Grace.” More specifically, I was Ezion Croyso, THE Duke of Croyso from the Under the Oak Tree novels.
But that did not make any sense. I wasn’t the duke last night when I went out with my friends for some drinks.
I was just me.
And the duke is a fictional character, not a real person.
So how could I be him?
“How did this happen?” I said out loud.
“There was an accident, Your Grace. You went riding, and the horse was spooked, and you fell.”
That was not what I asked, but then I remembered that this young man was my chamberlain.
Although, it made sense.
Nothing like a good head injury to throw oneself into a fictional reality.
Struggling, I got up.
“I need a mirror. Help me look in the mirror.”
The chamberlain brought me in front of the mirror.
It was definitely an upgrade.
Had I known that destiny would give me free plastic and sex-change surgery,
I would have learned how to piss standing up.
Well, there is still time.
I started laughing at the absurdity. The reflection did not argue.
My personal male maid, poor thing, what was his name again? Yes, Aldric.
He was looking at me as if I had become mad and grown two heads.
He wasn’t really that wrong.
“Your Grace, I have called for the barber-surgeon¹, the hierarchic, and the healer.
They should be here any minute now. Perhaps it would be better to lie down again?” he said while trembling and openly afraid.
He had stretched his arms as if to catch me if I collapsed.
Really, poor thing.
Do I look that terrible in your eyes, Aldric?
I was about to voice that, but a sharp pain hit my head again, and I crunched over so hard that I almost fell.
Aldric, the trembling twig, came closer to catch me.
I made an agreeing nod and let him put me to bed.
The pain became so excruciating that I lost consciousness.
On the internet, nobody really debates the real effects of transmigration on the body.
As you grow, you should have a specific network of neurons, right?
If new pathways are made with new memories and things you learn, doesn’t that mean that if your consciousness suddenly goes to another body, that precise pathway of neurons has to be physically transferred to the new body in order for you to be you? And if you happen to have the previous body owner’s memories, what happens to that specific neuron network?
That sounds like it hurts.
It really does.
I don’t know. I’m not a scientist. But for the amount of pain I’m feeling, something very close to it must be happening.
At least, that was what I was thinking before blacking out.
Oh well.