MTMP Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Ting— The dagger slipped from my hand and clattered to the floor. I couldn’t even think to pick it up. I just stood there, stunned, staring at the scene in front of me.

A man was lying on the ground, bleeding profusely.

I stumbled backward in shock. My foot slipped with a harsh squeak on the pool of blood spreading across the floor.

‘This is…’

Was it because it felt too unreal? Paradoxically, the situation quickly came into focus.

I had been holding a dagger just moments ago. The man was lying on the floor, bleeding as if stabbed. Therefore, I… killed this man?

But that wasn’t the only problem. I had no idea where I was or who this man was.

I tried to recall my last memory. It had been an ordinary day. I finished work and went home…

‘How did I get home again?’

That’s when my memory began to fray. I frowned as I unconsciously lowered my gaze—only to see clothes I didn’t recognize.

A dark, worn dress. Not the kind of ordinary one-piece you see every day, but something full and elaborate—like a costume from a movie. I’d never worn anything like this, not even seen one up close.

‘Why am I wearing this?’

The man’s clothes were just as strange. Though soaked in blood and hard to make out, the white shirt he wore was clearly not modern. It fastened with ties, and both the collar and cuffs were rounded. The pants had neither zippers nor buttons.

Now that I thought about it, the entire room felt strange. The furniture had no paint marks, and the locks on the doors, the window frames—none of it matched what I was used to.

‘Where the hell am I?’

At a glance, it could’ve been a set for a movie or a play—but I couldn’t shake the visceral realism of it all.

Most of all, the scene in front of me wasn’t something anyone could have staged.

The man was staring blankly at the ceiling with lifeless eyes. His face was drained of all color, and his body had already begun to stiffen.

‘If only his eyes were closed… I might’ve held onto some hope.’

Even though I had never seen a corpse in real life, I could tell. This man was truly dead.

As I glanced around in confusion, I caught sight of a stranger’s face reflected in the window—and jumped in fright.

I barely managed to stifle a scream by clamping my hands over my mouth, only to realize the reflection had done the same.

I waved a hand. The hand in the reflection waved back. I shook my head. The reflection shook as well.

‘That’s… me?’

A strange sensation I had been ignoring came crashing down. A higher field of vision, heavier limbs. It was as if I were inside someone else’s body—like this wasn’t my body at all.

Just as I tried to get a better look and approached the window, I heard a noise outside the room.

The creaking of wooden floorboards, the clinking of metal—both grew louder. Then, a knock.

‘Knock knock.’

I froze, even forgetting to breathe. My heart pounded like it was going to explode.

‘If someone comes in now…’

It was just me and the corpse in the room. My clothes were stained with blood, and the body clearly looked freshly stabbed. It was the perfect scene to frame me as a murderer. Saying “I don’t remember” or “I don’t know where I am” wouldn’t convince anyone.

“Your Grace, are you in there?”

A man’s voice came from beyond the door. I remained frozen, holding my breath.

“Your Grace? Your Grace?”

There was more knocking, and then the man continued.

“…Your Grace, I’m coming in. Please forgive my intrusion.”

The doorknob turned, the door rattled. Thankfully, it seemed to be locked.

“Tsk…”

The man jiggled the handle a few more times, then his footsteps receded. Only when the sound of him leaving faded entirely did I finally exhale the breath I’d been holding.

But I couldn’t relax. What if he had gone to get a key? He could come back any moment.

‘Run. I need to run.’

That thought overwhelmed everything else in my head. I scanned the room quickly. The only exits were the door past the corpse and a large window on the right.

I couldn’t risk going out the door—I had no idea who might be waiting. The view from the window told me I was at least three stories up. Jumping meant I’d have to be ready to break a few bones.

Even if I did escape the building, there was no guarantee I could make it across that vast-looking garden.

I clenched and unclenched my fists anxiously. My mind was racing, faster than it ever had before, but no clear solution came to me.

And that’s when it happened.

A voice echoed in my head.

Startled to the core, I clamped my hands over my mouth to stifle a scream and frantically looked around.

‘What… what was that?’

The voice that had just knocked on the door was different from this one. This voice felt strangely like it was being transmitted directly to my head, not through my ears. I wasn’t even sure if it could be called a voice.

Without paying any attention to my frantic movements, as I quickly turned my head to scan the floor and ceiling, the calm voice continued.

Despite the absurdity of the situation, I strained to understand the words of the voice.

‘Is it saying that if I find the secret passage, I can leave from here?’

Before figuring out who Julia Reitz was or what the voice’s identity was, this was the most important information for me.

I held my breath and waited for the next words. Instinctively, I knew that only this voice could be my lifeline.

By chance—or maybe not—the display case with three candles was right behind me, exactly as the voice had described.

‘Could there be a secret passage behind this?’

I gently touched the display case, but it didn’t budge.

Fortunately, the voice started to describe the next step.

I followed the voice’s instructions, blowing out the candles and twisting the one on the right. My hands were trembling so much that I worried I might break the candle, but thankfully, soon after, I felt a weak vibration, and the display case lifted slightly.

I pushed it, and unlike before, it moved smoothly. Behind it, a large space appeared, enough for a person to enter.

I was about to hurry inside, but the voice stopped me again.

‘The dagger…!’

If I left it behind, it might become a clue about me. Like the voice said, I needed something to protect myself in this strange place.

I closed my eyes tightly and moved towards the body, grabbing the fallen dagger. I quickly checked to make sure I hadn’t dropped anything else before entering the secret passage.

Once inside, I pushed the display case back into its original position, and I felt a weak vibration again. Soon after, the display case sank back into place with a thud.

The entrance closed seamlessly, and I was surrounded by complete darkness.

“Hah… ha…”

My legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the ground. The space with no light would normally have been terrifying, but now it felt different.

Maybe it was because I was far from the body, or perhaps because the immediate threat of someone arriving had disappeared.
Once inside, I finally felt a sense of safety.

‘It’s definitely a secret passage, not just a hidden space.’

That meant this space must lead outside. I adjusted my eyes to the dark and looked around.

I saw a long path stretching ahead, swallowed by the darkness, and the end was out of sight. The path was enough to make me feel fear.

But… it was better than staying still. The hesitation didn’t last long. I started crawling forward, trying to make sense of this impossible situation in my mind.

Where was this world? Whose body was this? How had I ended up here, and what was the voice in my head? I had so many questions.

‘There are clues.’

The name Julia Reitz, the Bolev Duke’s household, the title “Your Grace,” and the stiff tone of the voice that sounded like it came from a novel’s narrative.

‘Julia Reitz must be the name of me, of this body.’

Though it was a name I had never heard before.
Next, the Bolev Duke’s household and the title “Your Grace.” The man outside had knocked, looking for “Your Grace.” The place I had just been in was likely the Duke’s room.

I considered whether Julia Reitz could be “Your Grace,” but the dress I was wearing was too worn for that. On the other hand, the clothes of the fallen man were clearly well-kept.

That meant the man who had collapsed was either the Bolev Duke himself or at least someone deeply involved with him.

‘Bolev… That name sounds familiar. Where have I heard it?’

I tried to recall the appearance of the fallen man—black hair, red eyes, and his shirt, loosened as if it was his habit.

‘Volef, Volef… Volef?’

I repeated the familiar name over and over, and then I suddenly stopped in the darkness.

Russell Bolev. That was the name of the male protagonist in the novel ‘The Trap and the Swamp.’