David's vision slowly returned, the world around him coming into focus with a strange, disorienting clarity. Everything seed... off. He pushed himself up, his limbs feeling lighter than usual, and his perspective unnervingly low. His brows furrowed as he scanned his surroundings—a cramped, old room with wooden fras that seed ready to collapse under their own weight. A crystal light hung above him, its faint glow barely illuminating the space.
"What the…" David muttered, standing unsteadily. His gaze darted around, taking in the worn furniture and faded tapestries. Everything looked outdated, almost rustic. But before he could gather his thoughts, the door burst open with a loud bang.
A towering woman filled the doorway, her broad fra nearly scraping the edges. She had a brutish air about her, with muscular arms crossed over her chest and an impatient scowl etched deep into her face. "How long are you planning to sleep, runt?" she barked. "Get your ass to the reception before I throw you out myself!"
David blinked, his confusion mounting. "Reception? What are you talking about? And why should I—"
Before he could finish, the woman marched over, her heavy boots thudding against the creaking floor. "No ti for your nonsense!" she snapped, grabbing him by the ear. David yelped as a sharp pain shot through him, the woman's grip like iron.
"Hey! Let go!" he protested, trying to wrench free. But no matter how much he struggled, her hold didn't budge. He was utterly powerless against her strength.
She dragged him down a poorly maintained hallway, the floorboards groaning under their combined weight. The walls were lined with peeling wallpaper, and dim lanterns flickered sporadically. As they passed a large, cracked mirror, David caught a glimpse of himself—and froze.
His eyes widened in horror. His reflection was unfamiliar yet disturbingly familiar at the sa ti. He was short—almost childlike—but the real shock ca from the unkempt state of his appearance. His signature long white hair hung in tangled, greasy strands, his blue eyes were still striking but now wide with disbelief, and his youthful face was smudged with gri. He was wearing a loose brown tunic and baggy trousers that looked like hand--downs from a giant.
"What the hell…" he whispered, his voice trembling. This wasn't his body. But so parts of him—his hair, his eyes—remained. It was as if he had been thrown into soone else's form while keeping pieces of himself intact.
"Stop gawking at yourself, brat!" the woman growled, giving his ear a painful twist. David gritted his teeth, biting back a yelp as she dragged him further down the hall.
They reached a small desk cluttered with scrolls, ledgers, and a few cracked inkwells. The brute woman shoved him forward, nearly toppling him over. "Get ready for the custors. I don't care if you've got questions. You slack off, and I'll toss you out on the streets faster than you can blink."
David stumbled but managed to catch himself, glaring up at her towering figure. His mind raced, but he knew one thing for certain—he needed answers, and he needed them fast.
David slumped into the creaky wooden chair behind the desk, intertwining his fingers as he rested his chin on them. His mind raced, trying to make sense of his situation. This wasn't the first ti the system had thrown him into a dangerous scenario without warning. He rembered the dry swamp, the suffocating heat, and the pack of ravenous giant wolves. That trial had been straightforward—fight, survive, and make it to the boss. But this? This was entirely different. Humans were here, living their lives, and his usual supernatural strength and system-granted abilities were stripped away.
"What does the system want now?" David muttered to himself, his eyes narrowing as he replayed the mission in his mind. Defeat the King of the Night. The words echoed ominously, sending a shiver down his spine. He clenched his fists, frustration bubbling within him. Why did it always have to be cryptic? He needed more information—answers, tools, sothing—but instead, he was thrown into this decrepit tower with no clear direction.
His thoughts were abruptly shattered by a sudden, warm breath against his ear. David froze, his body tensing as a woman's lodic giggle filled the air behind him.
"Why so dazed, Winter?" the voice purred, soft and teasing.
David turned sharply, his eyes eting those of the woman now leaning over his chair. She was stunning, her figure radiating a confident, alluring presence. Her sun-kissed skin glowed faintly under the dim crystal light, and her amber eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint. Long, wavy black hair frad her sharp features, cascading over her shoulders and down her back, adorned with golden ornants that jingled softly with her movents.
Her outfit was both elegant and bold, blending practicality and allure. A black and gold embroidered top hugged her torso, its intricate patterns gleaming faintly in the light. Her midriff was bare, revealing well-defined waist, and a golden sash cinched around her hips held up voluminous harem-style trousers. She wore an array of bangles and earrings that clinked with every subtle motion, completing her striking appearance.
"Cat got your tongue?" she teased, her voice lilting as she leaned closer, her scent—a mix of jasmine and spice—filling the air. Before David could respond, she smirked and planted a quick peck on his cheek, pulling back with a laugh. "You're always spacing out. What's got you so worked up this ti?"
David blinked, montarily disoriented. Winter? Who the hell was Winter? He glanced down at his filth-covered hands and rembered his reflection in the mirror. Whoever this body belonged to, it definitely wasn't his own. And this woman seed to know him—or, rather, know Winter.
"I was… thinking," David said, cautiously choosing his words. He needed more information, and fast. "What are you doing here?"
She tilted her head, a playful smile still dancing on her lips. "What am I doing here? Shouldn't I be asking you that? You're supposed to be at the reception desk, not daydreaming like so lost puppy."
David sighed inwardly, trying to keep his composure. This was going to be a long day.
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