Ding Dong! Ding Dong!

  aaahh!

  The sound of the pendulum woke me up, and I got up in a shock from being run over by the truck as Angus.

  "What the hell happened?"

  I looked around, and I was in a completely different surrounding.

  I was on an enormous bed, with an amazing softness and it was softer than anything I had ever known before it swallowed me up a little with every movement I made. The sheets were pulled up tightly, with a slickness and a coolness. The pillow fitted my head perfectly as if it had been made specifically for me.

  The ceiling was flat and light-colored, with minute crevices in the wooden structure. The light that came from it was dim, not brightening much, but enough to outline the shapes. I gazed at it, struggling to recall how I ended up there.

  I looked to the side and noticed the humming air conditioner installed on the wall. The box released a draft that smelled like nothing, so the room felt both odd and secure.

  I moved under the blanket. Everything felt too comfortable, like I shouldn't be feeling this at all. My heart was still pounding from before, but the bed was telling my body to lie still. I scanned the room slowly. The walls were papered in thick paper, mottled brown and patterned in lines that replicate and replicate. They didn't glimmer or look cheap either. Pictures were straight on the wall, showing wild animals.

  "Am I in some sort of palace? feels like in heaven."

  I felt someone tugging at the side as if someone were beside me.

  I slowly moved my head to look at the person who was beside me, my eyes landed upon them, and the sight I saw made my cheeks red.

  There was a woman right next to me, her back in display. She was presumably naked. No, she was indeed naked, I could see her naked back and shoulders, the rest wrapped in the blanket. I couldn't make out her face, but her hair was the color of cider flowing all the way to her back, and she had a tattoo imbedded on her glossy skin.

  It started from her right shoulder blade all the way down to the middle of her back. It was shaped like a tree, the crown on her shoulders with moons, stars, and the sun hanging from the branches inside the crown. The trunk moved all the way to her toned back, it was as if textured with blank spots to contrast the black ink to her skin for the tree effect, and the trunk diverged into roots and spread across her back's bottom and faded into her rear. The ink etched into her brown skin was the black contrast to her brown.

  I stared at her back, and I felt some strain below my waist.

  Wait, why am I staring at her? And why am I naked? This is wrong.

  I instantly tried to roll down, but her bare arms draped, pulling me close to her.

  I need to get out of this bod.

  I forced myself and rolled out of the bed only to realize I was but naked.

  I need to dress myself. Where are my clothes? Who am I right now? Right, my suit. I have a suit; where is it?

  I saw a suit hanging from the dressing stand and hurriedly wore it to cover my naked form.

  Where am I right now? Why can't I remember anything, and who is that woman?

  My thoughts were in a rush. I didn't notice what was happening around me, but I felt a gaze upon me, and I looked back and saw the woman now stretching on the bed, her form on display, and she said in a seductive, sultry tone,

  "What's wrong, dear? Going already? You still got three hours of service for what you paid for."

  service What kind of service involves these kinds of things?

  "I don't want it anymore," I said, a flush creeping on me as I buttoned my shirt.

  I turned my gaze away from myself as memories started to flow.

  "Let me button it up for you, darling," the woman said as she sauntered towards me.

  "Stay back, don't come close," I muttered out instantly, trying my best to not look at her.

  I should leave, but who am I? I walked past her, she tried to touch me for a moment, but I moved aside, and her touch grazed past me.

  Ring-ring! Ring-ring!

  The memories start to flood. I am now Malcolm Fraser, and I am forty three years old. I am Grime with eight swirls, and my ability allows me to turn my right and left hands into blades.

  I focused for a moment, and both my arms transmuted into blades, the woman shrieked instantly.

  "What are you doing? What did I do? Are you going to kill me? Please, please, no."

  What kill her? Why would I do that? What kind of man am I?

  "No, I won't. Why would I kill you? I don't even know you," I said back, and my hand became normal.

  Stolen story; please report.

  "Don't know me, dear? We spent the entire night together, and you've been using my service for months. You are creeping me out."

  She took a step forward. I raised my hands and said in a loud tone,

  "Stop trying to come near me, got it?"

  "I just want to pick up the phone."

  Right, I ignored the phone rings.

  "I will pick it up."

  It wasn't a smartphone but rather a telephone, it was the color of white with some crystals imbedded on the keys.

  Ring-ring! Ring-ring!

  I reluctantly picked up the phone, the cord tangling as I placed it next to my ear, and I heard a voice crackle.

  "Malcolm, do you hear me? It's Doyle."

  Doyle, who is that? Think, Alyss, think.

  I felt the woman hug me from behind and immediately pushed her down, and she fell with a thud.

  "What did I say? Don't touch me, get lost."

  She stared at me for a moment; her eyes, inside their color, were scared and confused, but she picked herself up and apologized and dressed herself and wore her bright red-colored walking dress, which had a low neck, as it exposed her upper chest.

  "Malcolm, is something wrong over there?"

  Doyle, Doyle, right? Doyle is my colleague; he and I are fellow caporegimes in the Grahams family.

  "Oh no, no, it's nothing, Doyle. Everything's fine." I said, trying to do a Malcolm impression.

  Stay calm, Alyss. Stay calm, Alyss.

  "Who did you tell to get out? Is the wh*re you are using out?"

  wh*re? What's that? That must be her name.

  "Yeah, nothing, just a commotion."

  "Her name was Morag, wasn't it? Fun night?"

  Morag, so that's her name. Then what does this "wh*re" mean? It feels like I heard it somewhere, right! It was back when Mom freed me from the office. Iker Emi called her a wh*re, right? There must be some bad language, I shouldn't use it.

  "Yeah, it was," I said on the call with no idea.

  "Big fight, I presume? "Well, we can always find you another one," Doyle chuckled on the other end.

  "..."

  "Want some recommendations?"

  "No, no, no need for that," I said with a fake laugh.

  "Malcolm, if you say the word, we can do in her, she is just a three-star after all."

  do in? As in murder? What kind of guy did I transmigrate into?

  "Ah, no need for that. What did you call for?"

  "Well, I know it's untimed."

  I took a glance at the pendulum, the time read as 3:12.

  "The boss shifted the gathering to 5:00 instead of 9:00, he suspects there is a black sheep among us."

  "Black sheep?"

  "Yeah, you heard it right, so it's probably to catch him off-guard."

  "..."

  "Meeting spots the same old tavern next to the Silverpark's docks"

  "Sure, I will be there at 5:00."

  "And welcome back to the field, Malcolm. Hope you got the rest you deserved."

  "I got ample of it," I said out with no idea what Doyle meant.

  "Alright, see you there. Don't forget your piece."

  He instantly hung up with no bye's or anything. I placed back the telephone and sat on the bed and started to ponder about myself.

  Tch, now I am part of a mafia family? Wow, what a development, from a couple to a father and now some random thug waking up next to a naked woman.

  Was I too harsh on Morag? No, stop thinking about her.

  "So I transmigrated again, huh?" I said out loud and looked at the mirror.

  "Why is this happening to me? looks like I was indeed cursed,a far worse curse than having an ability."

  "What should I do? Come on, Alyss, think you can do it. Alyss, you can do it, just go with the flow and everything will work out. You are inside Malcolm Fraser, just be like him, and you will survive, simple as that."

  "It's alright, Alyss. Everything will be alright. You will be fine. You can do it," I reassured myself, but the tears continued to flow as the shock subsided, the effect of getting run over by a truck still on my mind.

  I cried for some time, sobbing to myself, thinking about Mom, Dad, and Leo, their execution still on my mind.

  "Come on, Alyss, don't think about it, don't think about them. You should save yourself, you can do it. Just be Malcolm Fraser, and you will survive. It's that."

  I should wipe my tears and wash my face, I can't let them know I cried. That puts me at risk.

  I headed towards the vanity, which was built in ceramic, rinsed my face thoroughly, and dried it with a towel.

  "Alright, what should I do? I should head to the tavern near the docks. What's its name? Come on, think, think, think. Yes, the king's cask, that's the one. I should go there. My boss's name? His name is Willy Graham, and I am part of his gang, and I am a caporegime there and one of their trusted allies. If I go with the flow, I could pull it out easily. You can do it, Alyss, you can" I reassured myself.

  I walked toward the corner table where the telephone was to get my wallet, and I checked the drawers, and in the top one there was a revolver in it.

  I immediately took a step back, glancing at its irresolute look.

  This must be the "piece" Doyle mentioned, I should take it to not be an oddball.

  I picked it up, the revolver was cold and dense in my hand, its blued steel frame hard and smelling faintly of oil and burnt powder. The wooden grip felt smooth yet angular, shaped perfectly to fit my palms. It was heavy.

  Alright, I should keep it safe. Where is my holster? People keep the guns in there in films.

  I sized myself up and found the holster on my shoulders. I carefully placed the revolver, hoping it wouldn't accidentally shoot.

  "Alright, time to head out."

  I looked up at the ceiling and closed my eyes for a moment and prayed inside my heart for good luck.

  *****

  I locked the door, took the keys, and made my way to reception. The receptionist, a man in his mid-twenties, stood up and greeted me.

  "Hello, sir. What brings you at a time like this?"

  I glanced at the clock, it was 4:04.

  "Well, I am checking out."

  "Oh, is that so, sir? May I know the reason why? You still have three hours left."

  "Just reasons, which are none of your concerns"

  I handed over the keys to him, the key dangling as he tied it to his belt loop.

  "Was your stay pleasurable, sir?" he asked with a quiver in his voice.

  "Indeed it was, and how much do I owe you for the night?"

  "Oh, no need for it, sir, you are VIP guests after all. It's an honor for us to accommodate you in our hotel."

  "Oh, it's alright; I will pay what I owe," as I reached for my wallet.

  "No need, the family will take care of it," he said in a panicked tone.

  Family? It looks like the movies were true.

  "Well, in that case, a tip would do."

  I opened my wallet, it was old and worn, but the texture felt like it was made of leather, and I took a look at the cash inside and my mouth went agape.

  It had seven thousand Lumes in all hard cash. I looked at it for a moment, dumbfounded, only to be interrupted by the receptionist.

  "Any problem, sir?"

  "No, it isn't. No problems."

  Now how much should I give? Let's give him two hundred Lumes I am loaded after all.

  I took out the cash and handed it over. He was in denial but accepted it later.

  "I am very much astonished due to your generous tip, sir. We expect your visit in the future."

  "No problem, the pleasure is mine."

  I immediately turned out and started to the exit, muttering under my breath about how well I put on that act.

  Gosh, that was good. I'm done. You can do it, Alyss. See, it's easy.

  I pushed the door open and stepped out to the street of Silverpark. The hotel was in Block E, but Silverpark didn't look like the Silverpark I knew.

  All the lights were yellow instead of the usual LEDs. The road wasn't in good condition, no, there was no road in there, just a stone pathway with some carriages parked here and there. The pavement was just a slightly elevated platform, all with cracks on it. The smell of sewer was evident, the air was polluted, and I could see the smoke from afar.

  This isn't Silverpark. I knew I started to panic, and I walked towards a nearby carriage, and a calendar caught my eye, which made me stop. The date read

  1832, Month of Marin, 18th.