I felt… nothing. No matter how desperately I tried to move my hands, they remained distant and foreign. My vision, too, was hollow— vast darkness stretched endlessly around me, as if I had been swallowed by the night itself. It was like I was in a dreamless slumber, an eternal drift.
I tried to look around, to catch a glimpse of something, anything—but there was only the consuming void. Time lost its meaning as I floated, like a shadow with no anchor.
Then, just as the numbness seemed absolute, I felt it—a force, faint yet insistent, lifting me upward, towards… the surface? Am I underwater? As I opened my eyes, they burned with a fierce, raw ache, the sting making me want to cry. My body felt weighted, as if shackled to the depths of the ocean. I could see a hand– my hand, drifting before me, ghostly and pale in the watery light. I tried to move it, but I couldn't even feel it. My limbs were distant—present, yet lost to sensation.
Am I even breathing? How am I alive? Am I dead? The thought gave me a strange sense of peace. If I had died, if I had drifted away from life's frenzied grasp… yes, perhaps that was a relief. A strange serenity rose within me, calming the echoes of questions left unanswered. My eyelids grew heavier, until everything was consumed by the darkness.
So, this is how I die, I thought, a whisper in the silence. How beautifully, beautifully pathetic.
***
"Hck!" A ragged breath escaped my lips as I struggled to pry my eyes open, but they remained weighted.
Then, just barely, I felt it—the warmth of sunlight, faint but real, pressing gently against my cold skin. Somehow, I was no longer underwater. But before I could make sense of it, I felt myself being engulfed by the darkness once again.
'Damn it, she's not going to make it!' A man's voice rang out in my head, sharp with panic. I felt his arms around me, carrying me with an urgency that cut through the haze.
"Miss! Little miss, open your eyes!" he shouted, setting me down on what felt like a rock. His voice was desperate, a raw, pleading tone that kept me anchored, pulling me towards a reality I couldn't yet fully grasp.
"William, what are you doing? You can't just leave your post and jump into the water like that! What if an executive saw you?!" A different man's voice rang through my ears, an older voice. I could hear them, but I couldn't make sense of anything.
I tried to open my eyes again, but it felt like trying to lift a car with bare hands—basically impossible. Still, something felt different this time. A strange sensation was building up inside me.
My throat burned, then— "Hck, gh!" I lurched forward, coughing up water all over the poor guy holding me.
My throat hurt— it was like the first time that I had tasted alcohol, a burning sensation and a sour aftertaste. My body ached as if I had just came back from an intense workout session. My limbs were numb and cold, but I managed to lift my hands up to wipe off the excess water on my eyelids.
Finally being able to open my eyes and look around, the first thing I noticed was a man in a black suit, holding me and speaking, or rather asking questions, to me. He had a soft yet stern tone of voice, suiting his soft features that consisted of a smooth skin accompanied by hazel eyes that had a youthful glow in them, contrary to his mid-30s appearance.
His wet crimson hair clung to his face, dripping onto his soaked, formal-looking clothes. The sight made me think he must be a businessman, though now he looked more like a wrecked castaway than anyone who belonged in a boardroom.
So this must be the man who… "saved" me.
Great.
I'm alive.
Why do I feel so annoyed…?
"Little miss, are you alright?" Now I could understand what he was saying but whenever I opened my mouth to speak, coughs were all that got out.
"kh- I— huk– am-" between my struggles, I managed to tell him I was fine. In response, he sighed in relief. I tried to piece together how I'd ended up in this place, but my mind kept looping back to a single image—books. I'd been heading to buy one, but the rest was a haze. I remember… a bridge.
I stopped to admire the scenery, then… someone pushed me? Pain throbbed at my temples, a dull ache that made it hard to think straight. God, it hurts. It felt like something was digging into my brain.
But where am I now? How did I end up here? Questions swirled in my mind like a storm, left unanswered. Out of habit, I raised a hand to my neck to feel my necklace– the one thing my useless parents left me with– but there was nothing. 'Ah…' a sense of grief washed over me as I realized that I had lost the one thing I was supposed to keep.
Then again, I had never actually liked the necklace, it was a simple long silver string with a shiny rock in the middle, nothing remarkable or worth paying attention to. Although it was the only thing my parents left me with, I suppose it is no use crying over spilled milk.
***
After some time, a tall man with brown hair named "Sam," who was also a member of whatever company these men belonged to, picked me up and carried me as the man who got between me and death walked alongside us.
Realising that I had somehow ended up on a port, and that these people were the ones responsible for the area, I was speechless. My mind fell into chaos since I knew how far the port was from where I fell, and I couldn't manage a single word as they carried me into an infirmary.
They settled me onto a bed, then quietly slipped away, leaving me alone with my thoughts. In the quiet of that room, my head spun: How on earth did I get here? What just happened? How did I not die?? Every question piled up, tangled in confusion and disbelief.
After a moment of solitary silence, a man with black hair, which was slicked back, entered the infirmary. Being all alone with this stranger sure did make me uncomfortable, but what other choice did I have? I may have very well trespassed on their property, although unintentionally.
He was dressed formally as well, but the way he navigated within the infirmary reminded me of a doctor, so I assumed he was one. Considering how everyone else left before he came in, I figured, they must've called him to check up on my condition. I was literally drowning when they found me, after all.
But there was something about his demeanour— a sense of authority, a quiet confidence— that made me feel as if he was someone important, someone of higher rank. Then, as his gaze settled on me, I noticed his eyes.
His eyes… They were purple.
That—that's definitely not a normal eye colour. For a split second, my mind raced through possibilities. Did he have some rare health condition that caused his eyes to look like that? Or maybe he was wearing coloured lenses? Yeah… that must be it.
"Hello," he muttered softly, "Hello, sir." My voice came out strained, but he didn't seem to mind at all. "Do you know where you are?" Am I supposed to? I shook my head, my throat was still sore so I didn't want to talk much. "Very well then." He exclaimed and calmly sat on the patient bed I was laid on, but he still kept his distance from me.
"You somehow ended up in Lunaris's port, and was rescued by one of my men." His men? So I was right to assume he was of high ranking! He must be the CEO or boss of whatever this organisation is–
"You were rescued by the Stygian." He uttered and I felt my heart skip a beat.
The what?
The Stygian?
As in like- The Children Of Miseria?
"…What?"
He just stared at me like I was an idiot, and raised his eyebrow with a playful look in his eyes. How could I be in The Children Of Miseria…? Did I die for real? Am I in a coma? No, that's just– impossible. The pain I felt was too real. Yeah. No way. I must have somehow ended up somewhere else where, oddly enough, the port is run by a mafia called the Stygian, just like it is in the novel— yes, yes! That must be so! Right…
'Ah, fuck. I have been isekai'd, haven't I? Or is it isekaied? Isekaid? Meh. Who cares? Reincarnation sucks. Isekai sucks. Sebastian sucks– SEBASTIAN! RIGHT, SHIT!'
While I was lost in thought, Mr. Mafia boss took the opportunity to get closer and inspect my current condition. His name was 'Sebastian' and now that I looked at him, he was a carbon copy of what the novel described: Cold, calculating purple eyes with hair as dark as the night sky, tanned skin with various scars on his arms.
"Ah- sorry." I muttered sheepishly, realising that I had been looking at him with wide eyes this whole time. I must have looked like a fish out of water. Which, by the way, does fit the situation…
"The mafia?" I asked, feigning a wide-eyed innocence, hoping he'd buy that my stumbling into their territory was an accident. I tried to look as lost as possible, anything to convince him I wasn't here on purpose.
He studied me, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "So, how exactly did you end up on the port?" His tone was patronising, as if I were some helpless stray that had wandered too far from home. It bothered me, but I had to play along. Survival mattered more than my pride.
Especially considering that I must have, somehow, died once already. Because, how else would I transmigrate into this world? Plus, the last thing I could remember was being pushed off of a bridge. But… since the person who pushed me doesn't technically exist here, I can't say that. So I gave him my best lie.
"I just… remember jumping off a bridge. The next thing I knew, I washed up here." I knew that there was a bridge near the mafia's headquarters– maybe he'd believe the current swept me into their path. I just needed him to think the waves had done me a favour, even if fate hadn't.
"And why would you jump?" He asked, eyes narrowing. There was a sharpness to his gaze now, a dangerous curiosity. "Because…" I tried to piece together a convincing lie, but then, Kieran's– the main character of the second book– words echoed in my mind. They fit my situation all too well. "Is there really anything worth living for?"
I froze, realising too late that I'd spoken aloud. Shit. Kieran had used those exact words several times when he recruited people— but the quote's original owner was none other than Sebastian.
"Hah!" To my horror, he let out a short, mocking laugh. "Oh, that's rich," he said, still chuckling as he turned his gaze back on me. "You know, you remind me of someone." And there it was: I'd just painted a target on my back. Now, he was curious—and all too interested. Fuck. He probably thinks we are alike.
"I see." I said in my best nonchalant voice, trying to seem clueless about who he was talking about. "Can I… go?" I asked, unsure of what kind of reaction he may have.
"Hm? Ah, by the way, what's your name?" he said, ignoring my question. And oddly enough, he started speaking casually now unlike before. I didn't want to answer him, but in fear of offending him, I reluctantly replied in a hushed voice.
"Lucienne."
"I'm happy we got to meet Lucienne, I'm Sebastian Morris." Yes, I know that– But I've got to act genuine. "Likewise, but, can I go?"
"Where would you go? What would you do?" He inquired, seeming worried in a sarcastic way. To be completely honest, I had no idea where I would go or what I would do, I had nowhere to return. I could go to the detective agency and hope that Arthur, the head of the detective agency, accepts me, but that would mean facing Edgar; a genius and lead detective, on a daily basis. He would no doubt figure me out.
I couldn't risk them finding out that I have knowledge of the future and past, so trying to befriend Edgar was also out of the question. I could try living on the streets, but honestly, being in the mafia seemed safer than that considering the environment. If I became a secretary or something, wouldn't that mean I'd be safe? Of course, I could try becoming a secretary at the agency too, but still, there is the Edgar factor. That damned genius.
But then again, seeing how young Sebastian seems— though he still looks pretty old— I'm assuming it's still around some time in the beginning. So we have Kieran here, who isn't much far behind Edgar. But he is still young and probably wouldn't care about me at all, so the chances of him discovering me are lower.
But can I really handle the brutal ways of the mafia…? But, the first book was about a nameless character living on the streets, so I knew that the streets were far more cruel than the mafia here.
Oh fuck, I forgot about Sebastian.
"I don't know…" I answered honestly, hoping he sees me as useful enough to keep around. "I have nowhere to go." Sebastian was a ruthless character who took in children and manipulated them into becoming his pawns, so, a child with nowhere to go was basically gold in his eyes.
"Then why don't you stay here?" Just the answer I was hoping for. I lowered my head and knit my eyebrows, trying to seem deep in thought. I focused on the floor which, now that I looked at it, was dirty with dried blood. Oddly enough, the sight didn't bother me at all. I just wondered whose blood it was and how long it had been there. Looking back at Sebastian, I gulped and made eye contact.
"Can I?" He is just trying to manipulate me, to use me, but his smile almost seemed genuine for a moment when he said "Yes" to me. It irked me.
'Cut the act, old man!'
"But what will I do in the mafia?" I finally asked the most important question and awaited his response. "First, let's check your condition shall we?" This damn old man ignored me yet again and got up, walking towards a cabinet that held medical stuff. Taking a stethoscope out of the cabinet, he walked back to me and motioned me to turn my back to him.
'I don't trust you enough to turn my back, but I guess I have to…'
Although Sebastian is the mafia's leader now, he used to be a doctor. He was a character I hated with all my heart because of how he treated people as if they were nothing more than tools. After listening to my heartbeat and breathing, he instructed me to wait for him and left the room.
I sat alone in the quiet infirmary, trying to piece together the chaos that led me here. Just a few hours ago, I'd been walking on a bridge, getting ready to buy the third book. Then… I saw someone, though I can't remember his face. Suddenly, he pushed me– and the world collapsed, literally. I hadn't exactly expected to wake up washed ashore in the world of The Children of Miseria, face-to-face with mafia operatives.
I let out a bitter laugh, leaning back on the cot and staring up at the ceiling. This place felt so hauntingly familiar, like the vivid kind of dream you almost convince yourself is real. And yet, here I was—flesh and bone, sore and drenched, and completely out of place. I closed my eyes, as if maybe if I shut them tightly enough, I'd wake up back in my own world. But no. The ache in my temples was all too real, the sounds outside this room sharp and clear.
"The Children of Miseria," I murmured softly, the title slipping from my lips like a secret I couldn't keep. I hadn't said those words aloud in so long. This story had always been my sanctuary, the world I turned to when real life felt too heavy, too stifling. And now… now it was real.
I swallowed, feeling the weight of that title settle in my chest. 'It's a story about broken people,' I thought, as if reminding myself what this world was. 'A world where light and dark are indistinguishable.' Maybe it was for my own sanity, or maybe it was my way of making sense of this surreal nightmare, but I kept thinking back to the novel.
It's mainly set in Lunaris— which is also where I lived— the city that never knows peace. The detectives and the mafia are always at each other's throats, but they need each other, like two sides of the same twisted coin. I scoffed, half in disbelief and half in irony. Both sides have power, but here, power doesn't come without a price. Some people have 'powers,' but none of them are blessings. They're more like curses. Said powers were called 'ethera' here, their origin unknown. Then there is the main antagonist, Damian, who wishes to eradicate their existence.
I closed my eyes and tried to remember the faces of the characters I knew so well—the detectives of Miseria Investigations, with their tortured souls and fractured pasts. They'd become almost like friends to me over the last few months, a messed up family I made up to replace my nonexistent onea made-up family I had in my mind to replace my absent one. They're relentless.
Miseria Investigations is a shelter for the broken, the lost. But they're not innocent, not by any means, because none of them have clean hands… I paused, letting the familiar ache of the story fill me. It was strange, knowing this world so intimately, and yet being so utterly out of place in it.
And then there's the mafia, the Stygian. They don't just rule Lunaris's underworld; they are the underworld. They keep order in their own twisted way, driven by secrets they keep buried. A shiver ran through me as I thought of Sebastian— the cold, calculating leader of the Stygian. Sebastian… He sees everything like a game. Life is his personal chessboard, and he doesn't care who he sacrifices to win. He manipulates and experiments on children to raise soldiers for himself. The Stygian is a sick and corrupt place.
I laughed, a hollow sound in the empty room. But they're not just villains, somehow, they feel as vital to this world as the detectives do. Not to mention how they eventually joined hands with the detectives in order to defeat Damian, although I never got to read how it ended.
I opened my eyes, letting out a breath I didn't realise I'd been holding. This story— it isn't just about detectives and criminals. It's about people who are just… trying to survive, even if it costs them everything. It's about the cost of fighting for something good in a world that's broken.
Everyone here has lost something, and every choice has a price. I looked down at my hands, feeling the weight of those words. I'd always felt connected to this story because it showed the ugly truth of living. The question wasn't who was right and who was wrong. It was, what were you willing to lose just to keep going?
The irony hit me like a punch to the gut. I'd spent so long reading this story to escape, and now I was trapped in it. This wasn't just a story anymore. This was real, and all the understanding I had wouldn't save me from it. In The Children of Miseria, I was the outsider.
I wanted to survive. For the first time in a long time, I wanted to fight rather than quit. This world was different than my own, this was a new chance for me.
"I can't show any weaknesses. I can't let them see through me– no, I won't let them see through me." I muttered, promising myself to stay strong. I felt a stinging feeling in my head then, but quickly dismissed it.