Loner Life in the novel as a side character

*****

As Amon swung open the wooden door of the bathroom, he was met by a stunning view.

The room beyond was bathed in soft, ambient light, and the air seemed to hum with a quiet elegance.

The city beyond the door was a breathtaking vision of an era he was familiar with.

Its streets lined with tall, imposing buildings crafted from dark brick and intricate stonework.

Gas lamps flickered on every corner, casting pools of golden light that danced along the cobblestone streets.

Horse-drawn carriages clattered by, their wheels echoing through the air, while the hum of distant chatter blended with the clinking of metal and the rustling of silk.

Towering spires and ornate facades decorated the skyline, while lush gardens and iron-wrought balconies adorned many of the buildings.

The atmosphere was rich with a sense of history, mystery, and the undeniable charm of an age long past.

Then,

He instantly realized he was in a public washroom, located in a quiet corner of the street.

The distant sounds of the bustling city filtered in, marking the contrast between the calm inside and the busy world just outside.

"My god damn, this city,"

He muttered, his voice thick with awe and excitement.

He glanced around, taking in the cobblestone streets and towering buildings.

"It's the middle age generation of London..."

He shook his head in disbelief.

"The Victorian Era. I can't believe it."

Pluck—!

"Hmm?"

Amon turned, feeling a gentle tug on his shirt from the left side.

"Umm, Amon..."

He glanced down, confusion flickering across his face as he tried to make sense of the unexpected sensation.

There, standing beside him, was a small girl no older than 15.

She had long pink eyelashes, striking pink eyes, and long pink hair that cascaded down her back.

Her outfit was simple yet charming—brown folk attire paired with a white apron, giving her a wholesome, almost ethereal appearance.

Standing at 5'5", she gazed up at Amon with a mixture of concern and curiosity.

Amon, towering over her, met her gaze, his own expression a mix of confusion and intrigue.

The height difference made the moment feel strangely surreal, as though he were the one out of place in this world.

At that moment, Amon wasn't lost in his thoughts out of confusion, but rather because of the striking familiarity of the girl in front of him.

There was something in her appearance that stirred a sense of recognition, as if he had seen her before, though he couldn't place when or where.

'Wait, where did I see her exactly? I think I've seen her somewhere... This small height, this pink hair, these pink eyes with long pink eyelashes... She was somewh—'

Then, it hit him.

The realization struck him like a bolt of lightning.

'Wait...!'

"Janica..?"

Upon hearing her name called out, she looked up at him, her pink eyes blinking in slight confusion.

"Hmm? What is it, Amon?"

She replied, her voice soft and gentle, yet laced with a hint of concern.

"Wait, so she really is..."

He muttered to himself, still in a daze.

"Janica Orelion."

But Janica, ever sensitive to sound, had already caught his words.

She tilted her head in confusion and asked,

"Why are you still talking to yourself, Amon?"

Amon didn't reply as he was loss in his thoughts.

"...."

"Amon?"

"Huh?"

Amon blinked, snapping out of his thoughts.

"Oh...!"

"I-Its nothing,"

He stammered, his mind still racing.

Janica continued to stare at him for a few moments, her expression mixed with concern, before she shrugged it off.

"Then,"

She began, her tone brightening,

"Shouldn't we be going home now?"

"Home..?"

"Amo—"

Before Janica could finish her sentence, Amon quickly cut her off, scratching the back of his head nervously, a wry smile tugging at his lips.

"Ahh, right, yeah... home. Let's get there,"

He said, his voice tinged with awkwardness.

"I almost forgot. Haha."

He let out a small chuckle, trying to shake off the lingering confusion that still clouded his mind.

*****

In a small gray room, modest but surprisingly comfortable for a single occupant, the sparse furnishings were enough for a simple life.

A wooden bench rested by a small window, letting in just enough light to brighten the otherwise dim space.

A single bed sat against one wall, neatly made, and a solitary chair stood nearby, adding to the quiet, utilitarian feel of the room.

It was a space that spoke of solitude, but also of the peaceful simplicity of everyday life.

There,

Amon sat on the chair, his expression a mixture of awe, excitement, shock, and surprise.

His mind raced as he took in his surroundings, the reality of his situation settling in with a strange sense of disbelief.

"Well, fuck!!"

He let out a small curse, his hands running through his hair as the realization hit him like a freight train.

"That was really Janica Orelion..."

He paused, his mind racing as the weight of the moment settled in.

"A female supporting character in the Ascended Gray novel."

He finally reached a conclusion as he came to the realization that the woman he had spent time with just moments ago...

Was...

A Side Character from his favorite novel he had just read before Transmigrating 'The Ascended Gray'

""Hm~~"

He placed a hand on his chin, his expression turning pensive as he immersed himself in deep thought.

"Let's see... If I piece everything together—the world itself, the timeline of events, the geography of this place, and even the architectural style of this city—it's all strikingly similar to the novel I read. And now, to top it all off, I've encountered a side character who was specifically mentioned in that story."

He paused, his gaze growing sharper as a sense of clarity washed over him.

"After analyzing all these elements... the truth becomes clear."

"I've transmigrated into The Ascended Gray."

Yet, despite the clarity of his conclusion, lingering questions gnawed at the edges of his mind.

"But… who exactly is Amon Von Lancaster?"

His voice carried a mix of curiosity and unease, the name heavy with a significance he couldn't yet grasp.

And then, the questions began to swirl relentlessly in his mind, each one more unsettling than the last.

Why had he been transmigrated into the world of The Ascended Gray?

Why this world?

What was the purpose behind it all?

He clenched his fists, his thoughts growing heavier.

He hadn't even died in his original world, so why was he here?

Why him?

There was no tragic end, no sudden accident—nothing to suggest he was meant to leave his life behind.

"So… why?"

He muttered under his breath, his voice laced with frustration and confusion.

The answers felt maddeningly out of reach, shrouded in a mystery he had no way of unraveling—yet.

"Ughhh!"

He scratched his hair relentlessly, groaning in sheer frustration.

"My head's going blank, damn it!"

The more he tried to make sense of it all, the more his thoughts tangled into an incoherent mess.

It was as if the answers were just beyond his grasp, mocking him from the edges of his consciousness.

The irritation bubbled up inside him, threatening to spill over as his mind spun in circles.

"You haven't slept yet, Amon?"

From the doorway, Janica appeared, her voice soft but laced with concern.

In her hand, she held a glass of citrus juice, its faint aroma wafting through the room.

She walked toward him, her steps light and deliberate, before stopping by the edge of the bed where Amon sat, his posture tense and his thoughts clearly in disarray.

She extended the glass toward him, her gaze steady as if silently urging him to take a moment to breathe.

"It's 23:57 PM right now,"

She said softly, settling herself beside Amon on the bed, her presence calm and steady.

Amon, startled by her sudden voice, turned toward her with a faint flicker of surprise in his eyes.

Without a word, he reached for the glass she offered, his fingers brushing against hers for a fleeting moment.

He raised the juice to his lips, taking slow, deliberate sips, the tangy flavor grounding him just enough to ease his chaotic thoughts.

For a while, neither of them spoke, the silence between them carrying an unspoken understanding.

Then,

Amon broke the silence, his voice low but sincere.

"Thank you."

Janica glanced at him, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

"Don't mention it,"

She replied, her tone light yet warm, as if to brush off the weight of his gratitude.

Her presence, though quiet, felt grounding, a small but steady anchor amidst the storm of thoughts swirling in his mind.

Now, the question lingered:

Why was Janica in his room at such an hour?

Were they a married couple?

No, that wasn't possible.

She was only 15, and Amon was 18.

Then, were they siblings?

That didn't make sense either.

Just one glance at their surnames was enough to dismiss that idea entirely.

So what was their relationship?

Friends, perhaps?

Or something more complicated?

The answer wasn't immediately clear, but one thing was certain:

Her presence here wasn't random.

There had to be a reason she felt comfortable enough to walk into his room unannounced in the middle of the night.

But what was the reason?

As Amon earlier delved deeper into the past of his new life—or rather, the history of the body he now inhabited—he uncovered something that both intrigued and unsettled him.

Janica, both in the novel and standing before him now, was the daughter of the Priest of Orelion Church.

It was the very same church where Amon had been raised, where he had found solace and guidance.

Her father, the Priest, had been the one to take Amon in all those years ago, offering care and shelter when Amon had nowhere else to turn.

Day after day, he had looked after Amon, raising him as if he were his own.

It was a bond that transcended the typical relationship between a child and a guardian—a connection Amon could not ignore.

Amon, already familiar with the backstory from the novel, recalled the vivid flashback where everything began.

Janica's father, Raylone Orelion, had just finished his daily duties at the church when he returned home to find something unexpected.

There, on the doorstep, was a basket. Inside, a two-year-old child, crying desperately, drew his attention.

Concerned for the baby, Raylone had no hesitation.

He took the child in, offering warmth, safety, and the love he hadn't yet known.

Among the few things Raylone found with the child, the most curious was a name tag that hung around the baby's neck.

It was the only clue to the child's identity. But when Raylone looked closer, the name seemed to glitch, as if the universe itself were reluctant to reveal it.

In the novel, this part of the story had always intrigued Amon. The name was obscured, unreadable, or perhaps, intentionally hidden.

The mystery behind it lingered, unresolved, leaving an unsettling question:

Who was the child truly?

Why was his identity hidden from everyone—even the readers.

Now, as Amon sat in the reality of this world, that same mystery gnawed at him.

The glitch in the name tag—something in the backstory of this world seemed to be broken or altered, and it was tied to him, to his very existence.

Because the Name written on the name tag was his own,

'Amon Von Lancaster'

*****

Thanks for Reading—! And yeah it's slow pace isn't it guys?