A wooden ceiling was the first thing that came to view as his eyes slowly opened.
This was definitely not the hospital, nor was it his apartment as evident by the old wood that made up the ceiling.
He then noticed that he was laying on something that was both cold and hard, probably the floor as no bed he had ever lay on felt this hard and rough.
Slowly, he took a sitting position, letting out a wince. It felt as if he had been laying unmoving for a long while.
He then, finally, had the chance to look around and he noticed that he was in a small room with walls made of the same wood as the ceiling.
A wooden desk with a couple of books on it, a truck tucked away at the corner, a wooden bed just a few steps away from him and a mirror were the only furnishing this room had.
"A pre-death dream?"
That was the only explanation he could come up with, after all, he remembered very clearly being hit by a truck.
So maybe this was a case of the brain trying to comfort itself as it had noticed the impending death.
But then again, wasn’t it supposed to be replaying seven minutes of his happiest memories?
Not that he remembered having any, but still.
He was sure he had never been to, or seen a place such as this, so why was his brain replaying it?
Besides, why did every sensation feel so real if this was supposed to be a dream.
Unless, this wasn’t a dream and he had somehow been kidnapped after the truck accident and brought here.
"No, that doesn’t make sense either," he muttered, placing a hand on his chin, "I’m not important enough to be kidnapped for no reason."
He paused, noticing another strange detail, his voice.
Although it was still his, it sounded a lot younger than he remembered.
He stood up only to be hit by a wave of dizziness, but he managed to catch himself before slowly walking towards the mirror.
It was just a gut feeling, one that would or would not be confirmed by his reflection.
He soon reached the mirror, only to freeze at what he saw.
Yes, the reflection staring back was undeniably his, with the same black hair, grey eyes and dark circles that told of countless sleepless nights.
The only strange part was.....he looked younger than he remembered, maybe five years younger.
With a view of his reflection came a sudden, unexpected headache, one that seemed to want to force him to his knees.
Which it did.
And with the headache carried set of memories, none that belonged to him.
***
He didn’t know how long the headache lasted, maybe it was a few minutes, maybe an hour.
But when it finally faded, he was left laying on the stone floor in a pool of his own sweat, despite the cold.
He lay there for a couple of seconds, staring at the ceiling as he regained his focus, and the moment he did?
"Hahaha."
It started out as a chuckle before it transformed into a full blown laughter, one that filled the small room.
If someone saw him right now, they’d be convinced that he had lost his mind, but it wasn’t as if he would care.
It took him a couple of minutes, but he finally calmed himself and sat up straight again, staring at his reflected self in the mirror.
According to the memories he just received, his name was Adrian and this world was known as Avera.
Why was that important?
Well, one, it confirmed his thoughts, he had definitely reincarnated or was it transmigration?
Now, he wasn’t a stranger to the reincarnation trope and the legendary cause of it, Truck-kun, but had he expected it to happen to him?
Not in the least bit.
But the best part was, he hadn’t been reincarnated into just any world.
As if the goddess of fate herself had taken notice of his obsession, he had been reborn into the world of his favorite manhwa....
The Saintess And The Silver Crown.
The very same manhwa where his favorite character, Renelle Ardent, existed.
He calmed himself down as he slowly rearranged the memories dumped in his head to better understand his situation.
Adrian was an orphan, picked up from the streets at the very young age by the Ardent family, more specifically, by Renelle Ardent herself.
It was a memory that stood out the most among the rest.
A blizzard had swallowed the northern streets that day, snow had piled high against storefronts, and the wind was as chilly as ever, blowing unforgiving against those with nowhere to warm themselves.
He—no, Adrian—had been small, starving, and half-buried beneath the snow when a carriage bearing the Ardent crest passed by.
Guided by pure desperation, he jumped before it, forcing the horses to a halt and inviting a lecture session from the coachman.
The man had shouted, furious at the audacity of a street rat throwing himself in front of a noble carriage, but the reprimand never went far.
The carriage door had opened before the coachman could drag the boy away.
Out stepped a beauty that only belonged to one of noble lineage, she had hair as white as the snow and eyes as blue as crystals.
She looked only a bit older than the boy, and yet, was a lot more refined..... But that was what being born in a noble family did to you.
She looked at the young Adrian for a short while before asking, "what do you want?"
His lips had been blue from the cold, his body shaking violently, but he had still forced the words out.
"I can work."
He could’ve begged for warm food, for clothing or anything, but even he knew that those wouldn’t last him long, if at all.
The girl looked at him for a while longer before turning to the coachman.
"Pick him up," she ordered calmly.
And from that day onward, Adrian had belonged to the Ardent household. He had not been adopted as family, nor treated as a cherished ward.
He had been fed, clothed, and trained, in exchange, he would be a loyal dog to the lady, one that should bark when told to and die when told to.
According to the memories, Adrian was still undergoing training to be the perfect servant to the lady and he was currently taking the final test, the one which led to his death.
Spirit Contract.