Chapter 4: What the hell did I put in this?
Without all the super pretty and handsome people around, the room actually felt a little dull. Cass, who had never experienced something like that before, chuckled to himself.
He winced when it hurt him.
"My Lord, please. If you wish to laugh evilly, please wait till you are better." The man remaining in the room begged, and Cass froze. Laugh evilly? He wasn't doing that. He was just...laughing?
But, he wasn't wrong either. It did hurt him, and Cass sighed heavily.
"Just this once." He muttered. He wanted to close his eyes, but from his previous experience, that hadn't gone well. So, it was time to investigate. Where the fuck was he, and who the fuck was he?
Because this? This whole situation was making him angry.
He had no idea if it had been the plan all along to shove him into someone else's body from the get go, or if the original "god" had planned to put him in a fresh body but the second one had interfered. He wouldn't know until he was able to question either one of them. But he couldn't do that if he didn't know who he was.
"Uh, what's your name?" He asked the man still in the room. He wasn't an ugly or pretty man, just a plain one. Brown hair, brown eyes, and a splattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose. In a story like this, he blended into the background.
His eyes went huge when Cass asked for his name.
"My name? You want to know my name?" He repeated, shocked, and Cass got the feeling that whoever he had taken over for, who sounded like a man, was a fucking monster if this was how he reacted.
"Uh yeah?" Cass replied, and he swore the man's eyes watered.
"My name is Sam, Sir." Sam. What a basic fucking name. It suited him. Cass smirked.
"Well, Sam, could you grab me a few things so that I can jog my memory? Something like a newspaper with the current date, or any past ones? Something with big pieces of information on them." Sam nodded, and was about to rush off when he hesitated.
"Do you...want me to grab your normal drink for when you're injured?" He asked, and Cass hesitated.
"Sure." He replied, and Sam nodded, before rushing away to do his tasks. Cass leaned back against the pillows of this giant ass fucking bed, and took in the area around him now that no one else was here.
Fuck. He wanted to cry.
He already missed his sister. And he fucking ridiculous laugh. He was never going to hear it anymore. Fuck.
Letting out a shaky breath, he took in the room around him. It had two doorways. One was a set of double doors at the end of the bed, where the pretty people and Sam had left through. The other set had to be a bathroom or closet of some kind and that was to the right of him. There was only one window, and it was to the left. It was also covered in some thick ass gaudy drapes.
In fact, the whole room was rather gaudy. Whoever designed and styled this room had a...taste, that was for sure.
Black was the main colour. The sheets were black, the drapes were black. The ceiling, outside of the creepy ass mural, was black. But that wasn't the problem. The problem came with the accent colours. It wasn't just gold, it wasn't just red, it wasn't even just blue or purple or anything else.
It was all of them. In a fucked up kaleidoscope of colours. It honestly hurt his eyes. Why had no one said anything? This was vomit inducing. And the textures! From here he could tell it was a mix of the most expensive fabrics that they could find. Velvets, silk, suede, anything that was expensive, this idiot bought.
His interior designer sister would fucking sob coming into here. Hell, she might even throw up given that she was pregnant. He chuckled, a slight smile on his face, until it fell away. Fuck. She was never going to see this room. Only he could.
Humour quickly leaving him, Cass attempted to get up out of the giant, gaudy bed. He found out rather quickly that he couldn't. Whatever had happened to him, or to the body he was in had caused his balance, perception, and movement to be difficult. Even shifting on the bed made him feel woozy.
What had happened to him? Obviously, from the bandage on his head, he'd been hit. And, from what he understood, the tall guy with black hair had somehow been involved. He'd have to find out the details later.
Sam arrived back into the room with a tray. On it was a liquid that looked...suspicious. Sam made his way towards Cass without noticing how he was looking at him until he got to Cass' side.
When he realised the skeptical look that Cass was giving him, he gave him a nervous smile.
"I-I am aware that this looks...it looks like poison, but I swear you have been drinking it every time you had an injury! I can bring you the recipe. Your lordship made it yourself, and I am the only servant you have that is allowed to make it for you." Sam told him, and Cass narrowed his eyes.
Given how the others had reacted, he wasn't sure he could trust him. But, he had no one else to trust. So, with great trepidation, he reached for the glass.
And nearly dropped it but Sam caught it. Cass felt his cheeks heat with embarrassment as Sam chuckled nervously.
"Careful there, my Lord. Your grip has probably been affected by the injury. I'll remain until you finish your drink, and then I will go fetch those newspapers for you." Sam told him, and Cass nodded. With Sam's help, much to his embarrassment, he raised the glass to his lips.
Cass did his best not to throw up as the black, slimy liquid touched his lips. Not just the texture, but the flavour was something that just could not be described with the English language. Awful came to mind, along with the flavour of the liquid at the bottom of a dumpster.
Sam was surprisingly forceful, making sure that Cass didn't wiggle away from the glass. Cass wondered what the fuck was actually in this, but had no one to ask but himself. Sam held the back of his head, forcing Cass' head back until the glass was empty.
Coughing, gagging, Cass tried to compose himself while Sam watched him with a concerned expression.
"You normally don't struggle as much. Did hitting your head cause that much memory loss?" He pondered, and Cass wanted to laugh. If only he knew how much memory he had lost. He was pretty sure Sam would faint.
"Does it always taste like that?" He asked him, and Sam gave him a blank look.
"Taste? That has never had a taste to me when I've tested it before. You made me do it. It was how I was allowed to be in charge of you and your health." Sam told him, and Cass didn't know what to say to that. "The texture? I absolutely understand any complaint there. It's always been-" He cut himself off, going white. "I-I am so sorry my Lord. I forgot. I will shut up now." Sam sealed his lips, staring down at the ground.
He looked...scared, and Cass wondered what he'd done in the past to scare this man. What had the man he'd taken over done to him? Sam seemed to be a chatterbox, but if Lord Blackburn had hired him simply because he couldn't taste that awful drink, and had tried to force him to remain silent, he was clearly not a smart man.
It always did well that if you had a chatterbox around, they could be good at getting information, and giving information. You had to let them talk. Some of his favourite characters in stories and shows had been the chatterboxes. They usually had interesting backstories. And sometimes turned out to be the villain. Or, helping the villain.
Given everyone's reaction, and the decoration of the room, Cass was beginning to worry.
"It's alright, Sam. Because I am lacking in information, it is alright if you ramble. I will let you know if I want you to stop." Cass told him, and Sam's shoulders relaxed.
"You aren't going to punish me?" He asked, and Cass shuddered. Whatever the fuck that meant, Cass was going to have to nip that in the bud.
"No. I am not going to do that. Just make sure to gather all the newspapers you can in a timely fashion. I do not know how long I will remain awake." Sam jerked his head into a nod quickly, his hair flowing around his face. Cass didn't smile, but watched him as he took the empty glass away on his tray, closing the door behind him as he left.
Cass was once again, left alone.
Sighing, he turned and stared at the window. Fuck. He should have asked Sam to open that before he left. Now, he was in this dark, gaudy room without the ability to even look outside.