Thin Ice (M/M Transmigration)

Chapter 1

Copyright © 2022 hoddwinked

He came to to the sound of something hitting the door. With a frown and bleary glare for whoever dared to wake him when he had a headache, Cale rose his head from his pillow and coughed lightly due to the dust in the air.

"Yes?" he mumbled out and hoped they would go away soon.

"Young Master?" he didn't recognize the voice. "Young Master, breakfast is ready. You need to get up and eat."

"Mhm. Sure." his eyes slid closed as the fatigue he was wrapped in threatened to pull him down into slumber again. He wondered vaguely what kind of dream he was having for someone to call him young master. Perhaps he had watched too many historical dramas? Who knew.

Not like it mattered.

The knocking resumed. "Young Master, are you listening? Master and Mistress are going to be disappointed if you skip it again. It's not good for your health. Young Master?"

His eyes snapped open as he realized what he was listening too. He stared at the white covers he was sleeping on. He was sure his own were blue. Dark blue for a matter of fact. Since when had he ever used white covers? His mother knew he didn't like them because they were annoyingly bright in the morning. Kind of like now.

Cale pushed himself up until he was sitting on the bed. He palmed his eyes and tried to ignore the beginning of a headache behind them. As the knocking once again continued, he looked up, fully prepared to yell for them to leave. Instead, he found himself in shock.

This wasn't his room.

In fact, it wasn't even close.

His room was made up of dark colors and walls hidden by bookcases filled with manga and books. It had a TV and a computer and a lamp hanging from the ceiling. This wasn't anything like it. This room was made up of light colors, a large bed in the middle of it that he was currently sitting on, a light wooden desk wrenched into the corner with only a single bookcase and not a computer or TV to be seen.

In his panic, he forgot about his headache and stumbled out of the bed.

The floor was cold against his feet and he hissed as he stared down at it. But, strangely, only for a moment and then he was used to it. He was dressed in some kind of sleeping gown, which was also white, that went all the way down to his heels.

He took a step and listened to his footsteps. They were wrong. He wasn't sure how, but he knew they were. They didn't sound like they were supposed to like he was used to, but he wasn't sure what was different.

They just were.

His head flew from side to side as he tried to figure out where he was. In the middle of his quiet freak-out, the voice that woke him continued, "Young Master, are you up?"

"Ye-" he cleared his throat. "Yes. What day is it?" he asked, dreading the answer. If he'd lost time as well, he wasn't sure what he was going to do. Had he gotten drunk? But he'd never been much of drinker.

"It's Saturday, Young Master. Do you feel well enough to leave the house today?" the voice answered. It was, now that he was capable of thinking again, actually a rather pleasant voice, if a little too high for his tastes. It gave the image of a young girl working in a café.

"What date is it?"

The handle of the door jiggled as the woman on the other side answered. "It's the thirteenth, Young Master."

Cale took a deep breath. It had been the thirteenth five days ago. "What month?"

"July, Young Master. Are you alright? Do you require any medicine? Should I summon your healer?"