Zeldryn was alone in his room again.
He was still staring at the door Kera had just slammed shut.
Several seconds passed.
“Whatever.”
Zeldryn sighed and began getting up from the floor.
At least his body no longer hurt after Kera healed him.
He straightened himself, then looked at the sheets of paper still scattered across the floor.
Zeldryn clicked his tongue.
Seriously...
He began picking them up one by one.
Does Kera not have even the slightest bit of manners or empathy in that brain of his?
He came in without permission.
Beat Zeldryn for almost twenty minutes.
Insulted him.
Sat comfortably on his bed.
Then, right before leaving, threw his notes all over the place.
What an unbelievably irritating human being.
After collecting all the papers, Zeldryn carried them to the table.
He straightened the stack before sitting down on the chair.
The same chair.
Zeldryn stared at it for several seconds.
This damn chair again...
This was where he had been sitting before getting trapped in those repeated loops.
But Zeldryn didn't care much about that now.
Something else was bothering him far more.
He sat with one hand resting against his chin.
His gaze settled on the notes Kera had just returned.
So now it's clear.
This world used a different writing system.
Kera couldn't read his writing at all.
The man had even mistaken it for a child's meaningless scribbles.
If that was the case...
Then the language used in this world was probably different too.
But that was exactly the problem.
If the language is different...
Zeldryn frowned.
Then why can I understand them?
Hera.
The servants.
The guards.
Henry and Aeglo.
Even Kera.
Zeldryn could understand everything they said without the slightest difficulty.
To his ears, they were speaking English.
But the more he thought about it, the less sense it made.
How the hell would everyone in another world be speaking English?
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit NovelPhoenix for the authentic version.
The possibility felt almost impossible.
Zeldryn slowly tapped one finger against the table.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Or...
Another possibility appeared.
Is there some kind of automatic translation?
Zeldryn began piecing the theory together.
Maybe the people in this world weren't actually speaking English.
Maybe they were using their own language.
But somehow, their words were automatically translated into a language Reka could understand.
And perhaps the same thing happened in reverse.
Whenever Zeldryn spoke using the language he understood, the people of this world heard it in their own language.
In other words...
Something between them was automatically translating both sides of the conversation.
Some kind of translator?
Zeldryn fell silent.
They speak their language, but I hear it as English.
And when I speak, they hear it in their own language?
It sounded reasonable.
At least for now.
The problem was that Zeldryn had no idea what caused the phenomenon.
This body?
Mana?
His transmigration?
Or something else?
“Hmm...”
Zeldryn scratched his head.
“Complicated.”
He didn't have enough information to figure it out right now.
Thinking about it endlessly wouldn't produce an answer either.
I'll deal with it later.
Zeldryn picked up one of his notes.
If there was something he couldn't solve now, he could at least write it down first.
He added his theory about the language and automatic translation system to his notes.
Once he finished, Zeldryn put down the writing tool.
Then his gaze shifted.
There was another envelope on the table.
The invitation Kera had given him.
Zeldryn picked it up.
“Hmm...”
Kera said this was an invitation to Marquis Zorin's birthday celebration.
The father of the body he now inhabited.
Zeldryn opened the envelope.
He pulled out the letter inside.
Then...
!!??
Zeldryn immediately frowned.
“...What the hell is this writing?”
He tilted the letter slightly.
Then looked at it again.
Nothing changed.
The writing covering the page was completely unfamiliar.
It resembled the script of some ancient language.
There were curved symbols.
Some shapes looked complicated.
Others seemed connected to one another.
But to Zeldryn...
It all looked the same.
Unreadable.
“...”
Zeldryn brought the letter closer to his face.
Still nothing.
He moved it farther away.
Still the same.
Damn it.
I really can't read this world's writing.
His theory was becoming even stronger.
For some reason, he could understand the spoken language.
But whatever ability allowed that didn't apply to writing.
Zeldryn stared at the invitation with increasing frustration.
Apparently it was an invitation to Marquis Zorin's birthday.
But now he didn't even know when the celebration was being held.
Where.
What he was supposed to do.
Or what the letter actually said.
“Why does everything have to be this complicated, damn it...”
Zeldryn was just about to put the letter down when suddenly...
KNOCK!
KNOCK!
KNOCK!
!!??
Zeldryn immediately turned toward the door.
A woman's voice came from outside.
“Excuse me, Lord Zeldryn. It's Hera.”
Zeldryn recognized the voice.
“I've brought the food you ordered yesterday, Lord,” Hera continued from behind the door.
Zeldryn blinked.
Food?
A few seconds later, he remembered.
Oh, right.
Yesterday afternoon, after trying to understand mana for the first time, Zeldryn had become extremely hungry.
When he left his room, he found Hera sleeping outside his door because she was still following an order given by the old Zeldryn.
That was when Zeldryn changed the rules.
One of them was that Hera had to bring him food three times a day.
Zeldryn placed the invitation back on the table.
“Come in,” Zeldryn said.
The bedroom door slowly opened.
Hera entered while carrying a large tray of food with both hands.
She walked several steps into the room before stopping.
“Lord Zeldryn,” Hera addressed him politely.
Zeldryn looked toward her.
“Where should I place the food, Lord?” Hera asked.
Zeldryn glanced around briefly.
His table was covered with notes and the invitation.
“Put it on the bed,” Zeldryn answered.
“Yes, Lord.”
Hera walked toward the bed.
She carefully lowered the tray, making sure nothing spilled.
Once she finished, Hera stood upright again.
She bowed slightly toward Zeldryn.
“Then I will take my leave, Lord.”
Zeldryn watched her.
Hera turned around and began walking toward the door.
But something made Zeldryn slightly curious.
Hmm...
His gaze followed Hera.
Her behavior changed pretty quickly.
Zeldryn still clearly remembered how Hera had acted when he first woke up.
Trembling.
Afraid to look him in the eyes.
Even if Zeldryn moved slightly closer, Hera's entire body would tense immediately.
Now, she was still speaking very politely.
Still keeping her distance.
But the fear that had once been so obvious had diminished slightly.
Is it because I told her about the memory loss last night?
Maybe after hearing that explanation, all of Zeldryn's strange changes since yesterday made a little more sense to Hera.
Or...
Is she starting to adapt to Zeldryn's body now that Reka is the one inside it?
There was another possibility.
Maybe Hera was still afraid.
She had simply begun learning how to hide it.
Or is she just pretending to be strong?
It was difficult to know.
Years of trauma obviously wouldn't disappear in only a day or two.
Especially when Hera had previously been terrified just from making eye contact with this body.
Zeldryn let out a small sigh.
Well, who knows.
For now, there was something far more important.
Zeldryn's gaze slowly shifted toward the invitation on the table.
Then back toward Hera, who was almost at the door.
A small smile appeared on his face.
“Stop,” Zeldryn said.
Hera immediately stopped walking.