The Villain's Last Requiem

1) What to Do?

The boy came to his senses and groaned. Everywhere on his body felt like it was crushed under a boulder. He opened his eyes and slowly sat up on the bed. As he did, he wheezed in pain and a piercing headache smacked him. It forced him to breath slower, as if his lungs were wrung out.

No good, gotta focus on something else. The more he analyzed his current affliction, the more he felt the world was out of his control. He could only describe it as a feverish dream.

He took a few moments to recollect himself. At first, he felt disconnected but then it gradually dissolved. Now if this raging headache could go away, he'd appreciate it. Regardless, he drew a few deep breaths and forced himself up. Where he was at, most of the room was dark let alone a few shimmers of moonlight.

He got out of the bed, shivering from the cold air. He rubbed his arms when his fingers touched two types of surfaces. One had a rough texture, the other was smooth. He walked into where rays of light gathered and took a closer look at his body. He wore silk pants, though his chest wasn't bare. Wrapped around most of his body were bandages, and where his skin showed, scars and bruises were scattered about.

That explains why I'm in pain. But what caused this? He racked through his memories, or at least his current memories of what happened so far. He couldn't recall anything beyond waking up. Unease settled in his heart, he closed his eyes and took another deep breath.

Calm down, I'm probably in shock. He convinced himself of this. With his current state, it would be the most reasonable explanation at the moment. It would do until he confirmed it.

He turned his attention to the room. A European styled room, or at least it looked fancy enough to be one. Dim light shined on many objects, one that caught his attention. A tall mirror stood on the opposite side of the room. He slowly approached it, a little shadow reflecting the same action.

When he was close enough, he touched the mirror with the tips of his fingers. He could faintly see, a handsome little boy with silver hair and eyes was in front of him. He gave a dry laughter, his smile paled at the realization. He had the strangest feeling that couldn't be described unless one experienced it themselves. He just knew this isn't how he looked until now, at least that's what his instincts told him.

"...Ashic. Zecida. Cheifelste." He muttered, still staring at the mirror.

Hearing these names from his own mouth, bits of information came back to him. He remembered. Right now, the world he's in is from a popular romance novel. His current body is from one of the 12 powerful Houses and the novel's hero, Ashic R. Feles. That said, it was a given that he's in Cheifelste, the name of this kingdom's country.

Another name came to him. "...Rolas."

That's right, Ashic is the heir of that name. This world belonging to fantasy, each of the 12 Houses had a specialty and a inheritable name attached. 12 names with a status higher than a Duke's. Regardless, the future heirs have no choice but to adopt these names.

Ashic's father, Ricarde Feles, is the current successor of the name Rolas. Now that he think of it, where is his family? He pondered a bit before reprimanding himself. He felt his intelligence lowered into the negatives. It was night time, of course they wouldn't be awake at this hour! This moment never happened...

"Zecida... Zecida..." He closed his eyes and repeated a few times.

No matter how many times he did, he failed to recall anything beyond that. For sure, it wasn't any of the remaining 11 Houses. A place, name, thing? He made a mental note of it, something he'd have to look into later on. That is, if he could remember, but his confidence with this little task rose.

He glanced at the room again. A little to the right, there were chairs, a large couch, and a square table all in white. A bookshelf was behind the couch and what looked like portraits hanging a few feet away from it. From where the bed was; a writing desk, a closet, and a balcony which lets most of the moonlight in.

The boy sat on the couch, then sighed. When he spotted a door, he thought of leaving several times. He refrained, it would be bad if he couldn't find his way back and it was dark outside. Even if he did come back, someone working here might panic while he was gone, no less an injured person. That, and he wasn't sure if he'd recognize anyone.

What am I going to do? He couldn't do anything about his amnestic state or go out in public like this! There was one thing he can do for now. He already made his decision. Until then, I am Ashic Feles.