All fish in the sea. Yet, you come across another typical isekai novel. So yeah, no biggie. Enjoy reading :)

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Mortals believed transmigration is the transfer of the soul after death as a form of either heaven's blessing or punishment.

And as fate can be a cruel opponent of men, of the god's chosen mortals and reasons, Clay was pulled from his world out of his will.

'So I transmigrated, huh?'

As Clay squinted his eyes, he knew that the damned ball of destiny had landed on him.

'I did not even die.' And it was indeed the case as his last memory shows him lying on his bed, about to sleep. 'Did I pass away while sleeping? Sudden arrhythmic death is a thing, after all.'

But as Clay comes to his senses, he realizes, 'Why is it so dark here?'

Clay soon surveyed his dim surroundings—hell, it has to be done first before resorting to panic—to clinch if the isekai god had made a poor move.

Luckily, it seemed like he ended up in a chamber of some filthy-rich nobility—a good sign, undoubtedly.

The comfortable canopy bed he woke up on is draped with translucent woven curtains. Around the walls were picture frames with curving borders, gothic windows on thick drapery, and intricately carved furniture of ash wood and marble.

The room is full of extravagant things, but it is still spacious.

'Not bad,' he thought. 'It seems like I transmigrated into a world in the old western epoch. And... I had read many novels set in that era. So, which might it be?'

Clay jolted in an instant. While he mused his thoughts, he was suddenly struck by a headache that felt like his skull was being squeezed.

He grips his temples and groans in pain, "Urgh, what the—"

And just how sudden it was, it was suspicious enough to make him think of experiencing flashbacks. And as it could be, he braced himself. 'Here we go... hmm... uh?'

Well, Clay expected some surge of memories coming from the owner of this body, but nothing came. He even waited for a minute or two, only to realize that it was just a regular migraine—ignoring how torturous it felt. Just great.

'Urgh, just give me the damn sign...'

Taking the flashback skit out of his list, Clay decided to go the alternative: getting clues using this new body. Who knows, he might now be one of the wealthy main characters in some whatsit of a fantasy novel—which might be the case, really.

Sighing as he lowers his expectations, his eyes land on a cheval mirror by this bed. 'Ah, there it is.'

He wobbles as he endures his gripping migraine to face the mirror. And despite the shady surrounding, an unmistakable and familiar figure emerged in the reflection.

"Ho," he uttered, flabbergasted. "Just holy son of a bitch. This is—"

Clay held himself from swearing more as he focused on the details of the figure that appeared in the mirror.

A young man with the faintly chiseled jaws of young Adonis. Above were glaring crimson eyes—akin to a snake's when upon a prey—that paired well with the neck-long black hair seemingly endowed with utmost care.

'Ha, no way it is really him!' Furiously surprised, Clay held himself from laughing at the sight. 'I am now Horus Durkton, eh? The rotten minor antagonist in the novel I read last night?'

He then remembers, 'the book last night.'

It was a novel set in a hell of a western fantasy world where the premise of mana and alchemy defined and defended the civilization against critters and giants from dungeons across the continent. Magic-wielding swordfighters and prodigal mages upheld the land, established authority, and formed guilds and kingdoms. Simply put, it is an earth of a typical fantasy setting.

'It's a troublesome world,' was all Clay could say.

And based on the current frame of this new body, this Horus would be about 15 or so years old right now—indicating the novel's time frame had already begun. Definitely not the best time to get transmigrated onto.

Storywise, Horus Durkton was your typical-young-spoilt-noble-villain who abuses his affluent background to do his wicked shenanigans. This kid enjoyed acting all-powerful only to realize he was a hopeless potato upon his encounter with the main character.

'My my my... how upsetting of a character he is.' Clay even wonders how insignificant—storywise, yet again—Horus' role is in the novel: a mere stepping stone for the main character's progression. As simple as that.

But still, Clay retains himself. 'Well, it's not that I'm complaining. I heard this kid is rich as hell.'

As he thought further, gentle knocks suddenly came on the fancy door enclosing the room.

"Young master Hok, a pleasant morning," a man voiced, definitely concerned. As it was mild and respectful, it made Clay think this man was probably the butler or staff of this fancy place.

'Ah, hell.' Clay sneaked back to the canopy bed.

The butler continues. "Ermmm... Count Glen wanted to let you know if you would like to join them for breakfast, young master. You asked yesterday to say bye to your brother Luther since he will be out for a while."

Thinking of a plausible, Horus-like response, he utters, "I don't feel well."

"Ahem, young master,"—the butler clears his throat awkwardly—"it's been a week or so. Your father—the Count—can't help but worry since the ceremony will be soon. Are you still feeling unwell? Should I call the family doctor?"

'The ceremony?' Clay speculated it's related to the annual sword ceremony the Durkton family initiates. They are a family of sword-wielders, after all. 'But, gracious... Horus had no talent in swords.'

"I don't want a doctor," he replies, sounding nonchalant.

Sighing, he collected himself. 'Horus might be powerless, but not entirely.' He smiled upon realizing, 'He has money.'

"...I understand, young master... Ahem... Please, rest well."

And as soon as the butler's footsteps faded into silence, another knock came.

"Y-young master," a lady stuttered, her voice shaking with fear. It was clear to Horus that she was one of this place's maids.

"Enter."

The maid did so, head lowered, holding a tray with a pair of white pills and a glass of water on it. She then nervously places it on a table by the bed.

'Hmmm...?' Mildly surprised, he crosses his arms as he observes the pills. 'Are these painkillers? I did say I don't need a doctor, but is Horus really sick?'

"Y-young master. Is t-there a problem—"

Ignoring his thought, Clay interrupts, "No. Just open the windows; It's just too dark here."

The maid shoots a fearful stare at him. "S-sorry, sir?"

He turned to the stiff maid, who seemed visibly frightened by his words. "The windows," he repeats. "You m'kay there?"

She hesitates and soon starts to move to unfurl the windows. And now that the room was nicely lit, she bowed, her pale-blonde hair coiling down the floor. "Forgive me, young master."

Ignoring how long it took, Horus sighed. 'Just how hard it is to pull a curtain sideways,' asking himself.

(A/N: From now on, I shall start calling him Horus instead of Clay to decrease word count so you can read less. How great. Gee, thanks.)

Horus soon rose to stand by the bookshelf beside that caught his attention. He then takes a book and asks, "What is your name?"

"G-Gwen," she answered.

Without turning as his eyes were latched on the book, Horus smiled in wonder. 'Gwen? Gwen Harper? As in the alleged maid that will soon attempt to poison Horus' father—Count Glen Durkton?'

As far as Clay's memory can go, Count Durkton was often subject to many assassination attempts. And neither the culprit nor the reason for which isn't apparent. But he knew one thing for sure: 'The kingdom's inner nobles—the royalty—are threatened by the current Durkton Count.'

"Are you new here?"

Gwen raises her head, now looking a little bit better. "Y-yes, sir."

'Then, they sent this maid as a spy. And I wonder how many they are in this estate.' His smile even widened, now almost a grin. 'How interesting.'

Grumble. It was just the time Horus realized he was starving, for he knew he needed to at least eat to think things further through.

With a smile, he shuts the unreadable book to take another one and requests, "Miss Gwen, get me breakfast, please."

Gwen began to nod vigorously. "T-thank you, young master!"

And just that, she hurryingly left with a relieved expression.

'Hmmm...? Why is she thanking me?'

Upon reading a few pages of some books, he frowned as it was apparent that he could not read—maybe because he was now in a different world.

'Not a good sign, but strangely, I can understand this world's spoken language without breaking a sweat.' Sighing as he set this thought aside, he flopped on the bed.

For now, he plans to play things safe. This is because he was unsure if he would live as Horus for a short time or—god knows—for the rest of his life.

"First, I have to learn to read," he whispers, "the sooner, the better."

And at that moment, Gwen knocked and entered, sweating.

"Y-young master. I have your breakfast."

'That was fast.'

Gwen bowed and placed a bed tray where Horus was sitting.

A stainless cloche covers the meal on the tray, but Horus could already smell varieties of familiar aromas. Surprised by his fine sense of smell, he queries Gwen, who was stiffly watching him wrap a bib on his neck.

"What is the date today?"

"I-it's late-spring twenty-first, year 495," answers Gwen, flustered at the sight of her young master who started to eat as if he's been starved for a week.

'Hmm, I think I remembered.' He knew this world used seasons to refer to months. Four months is to year, and a month is to ten to twelve weeks, and doing the math in his head, he confirms his age to be 15 years old.

He then realizes, 'I have to return to school soon.'

Nobles of such age are mandated by the kingdom's law to attend the esteemed Gilshire Academy to train and be able to protect their territories if the urgencies require so.

'I have to get things ready, then.'

"Gwen," Horus called, still chewing. "Tell father I need to talk to him."

"T-the Count?" she stutters.

"Yes. Is there a problem with that?"

The maid tautened, slightly shaking. "No, s-sir."

He determined his first move to ensure his plan: to meet Count Durkton. He knew very well he had to be careful; he had no idea how the usual kinship works in the Durkton family.

"Tell him it's important."

"I u-understand."

As Gwen is about to reach the doorknob, Horus continues after a big gulp. "Also, get me some good basic reading and writing books."

"Y-yes." Gwen blanked.

"And... do tell the bookkeeper to keep his mouth shut about anything I ask you to bring from now on," he added, glaring.

"I u-understand, young master."

And by that, he grinned. 'It should be worth giving a shot.'