I had an annoying habit: whenever I got nervous, my fingers would start tapping on their own. Pretty common, I guess.

  Now I lay on a bed that wasn’t mine, staring at one spot on the canopy while gently tapping the fingers of one hand against the other, the hand curled into a small fist. Part of me was amazed at how calm I felt. The other part was trying to piece together this mess of memories and events.

  Strangely enough, my first real thought was sympathy for Nicolette. Being alone in this oppressive, unfamiliar house... I wasn’t even sure why I felt that way. Maybe it was because I’d seen her memory of hugging her parents goodbye, and my own feelings had overlapped with hers. On top of that, I kept wondering what had happened to the real me... Was I dead? Was this a dream? Would I go back—or was there nowhere to go back to? Would they find me a few days later… dead, with the cat?

  The urge to scream surged again, and I had to use every bit of willpower to hold it back. No. I had to stop drawing the attention of people—or different creatures like Isaac—with my hysterics.

  Pull yourself together. No matter how insane the situation was, I usually found some kind of strength in myself, even through the panic...

  I wanted to tell myself this, but I wasn’t that brave, and regarding ‘usually’ I was being disingenuous.

  But the situation? This was on a whole different level. That didn’t excuse me in the least. And there was no escape, no matter how much I wanted to cling to the idea of ??a delusional dream, it, like the earlier idea of ??a prank, now seemed implausible.

  I got out of bed, completely forgetting about my injured leg. Maybe the little bag of pellets really did work, but I didn’t even feel a tingling sensation. I moved almost as usual.

  More likely, I was just driven by a sudden flare of anger at myself—and the desperate need to do something. The first was due to helplessness and confusion. The second was more emotional. I felt completely lost in an unfamiliar place...

  Wait. That gave me an idea.

  In a sense, I really was lost. Comparing another world to foreign streets or the depths of a forest was, of course, ridiculous—but I needed some way to separate panic from logic. Otherwise, I’d just stay stuck in this spiral of panic.

  So… my, uh, essence got lost and ended up somewhere completely unfamiliar—somewhere with its own rules, dangers and quirks. So, if I didn’t want to get lost in this ‘forest’ and be eaten by some wild animal—say, the strange creature named Isaac—I needed to navigate my way around it. And for that, I needed information.

  That simple line of reasoning—leading to something painfully obvious—actually helped me calm down. That’s already good.

  I looked around the room again. Now that I knew it was Nicolette’s, the unease only grew. Part of me was hoping it was some kind of guest room, but no. My gaze lingered on the cabinets, and then on the nightstand.

  I definitely needed to write down the memories she’d seen under the spell while they were still fresh. I could also look for her diary. Judging by the furnishings—and by the way she herself looked like some noblewoman from a bygone era—I had no doubt she kept some kind of reflections notes. In fact, a diary would be a great help—Nicolette’s own thoughts would fill in the gaps better than whatever strange magic Isaac had used.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  So I started looking for a notebook. Or books—I wasn’t even sure what a diary would look like in this era—or how closely this world mirrored the history of my own.

  I found a few books in one of the bookcases, but they turned out to be encyclopedias of plants and animals. I leafed through a couple of volumes, but I didn’t recognize half of the creatures there. Under one of the books, I found a thin stack of thick, pinkish-brown paper, tied with a string. It felt almost like peach peel. Trying not to think too hard about what it might actually be, I set the paper aside. It might come in handy later.

  Further searching turned up only a couple more reference books and a thin metal rod, shaped like a fountain pen, but made from a single solid piece. It was as if someone had carved a nib into one end of the piece of the metal and called it a day. But I didn’t find any diaries.

  The last place—at least one of the obvious ones—that I didn’t inspect was the chest of drawers. And then I finally got lucky: in the second drawer from the bottom, among the weightless scarves and stoles, I found a small box. And in it—a few notes and a book with a gray cover. The loose notes had book titles on them—at least, during a quick glance, I noticed the word ‘reference’ in the titles a couple of times.

  At least the language was my native one. That surprised—and honestly relieved—me. Otherwise, I would have been lost. But those lists were no help, so I set them aside for now. Right now, there were more important things.

  And yet, just as I picked up the book and was about to open it, I suddenly froze. The notes made me think again about Nicolette’s memories—the ones that had surfaced after Isaac’s spell. Perhaps it would be better to deal with them first.

  I took the bundle of papers I’d found earlier and pulled out several sheets. Then I tucked the diary away again and returned to the table. I picked three sheets of paper and labeled them: ‘Nicolette’, ‘Questions’, and ‘Concerns’.

  It was easier with the first sheet. The woman’s full name had flashed through the memories a couple of times. And once, I was sure, it was from Isaac. So I calmly wrote down ‘Nicolette Velletin’ on the paper. I also wrote down that she had parents, but for some reason they’d been separated against their will. I added a question mark—I only had one vague memory of it.

  From there, I simply wrote down everything I could piece together from what I’d seen under Isaac’s spell and my own findings. There were different versions of Nicolette—younger one and more mature one. Their personalities differed, with the older version seeming far more cruel. The younger version looked to be about seventeen. Regardless of her age, she was the owner of the mansion.

  Nicolette studied plants and potions, judging by the notes I found and the books I saw in her memories. She probably didn’t spend much time in the mansion—at least, the younger version. She likely had magical abilities. She took part in some ritual that went wrong, leading to illness, memory loss—or both.

  I made a note next to the last entry: ‘possibly the reason for what happened to me’.

  I was afraid to write it down exactly as it was. For some reason, my inner paranoid insisted that phrases like ‘occupied her body’ were better left unwritten. Risky. After all, I didn’t know what was going on here—not with Nicolette, much less with those who find themselves in other people’s bodies. So I settled on what felt like a relatively neutral option.

  In any case, I was planning to hide these pieces of paper. I wouldn’t be surprised if Isaac, or anyone else, checked things. Especially now that their ‘lady’ was clearly a bit off.

  I wrote down ‘the ritual’ on the question sheet. Magic in general bothered me—it was hard to come to terms with its existence. But the ritual had to be clarified first. Probably, it was the reason for what had happened to Nicolette and me. And also a possible clue to finding a way to return. I still had to figure out the magic. It was unlikely there was a solution to my problem that didn’t involve mystical forces. So it made sense to start with the ritual.

  The second thing I needed to know about as quickly as possible was the garden itself. It was clearly more than just a place to stroll. Isaac had mentioned that there were creatures in the garden—and nothing about the way he said it sounded reassuring. Maybe the place I’d ended up in had nothing in common with all those stories about travelers to other worlds... It looks more like a mystical place with a mysterious, dangerous mansion. There were probably ghosts here. Or other nasty spirits. Ugh.

  But I’ll have to figure it out. Especially since there was one moment in Nicolette’s memories that related to the garden, and it puzzled me the most.

  Next to the note about the garden, I added one more word: ‘Barrier’.