A dull ache in his head made Duong Khai An groan softly. He jolted awake, his mind reeling as if he had just come through a severe fever. As his blurry vision gradually regained focus, what appeared before him left him stunned. A gloomy room, an old wooden ceiling, and lime walls faded with time. This wasn't his familiar room in Vietnam. This wasn't the world he knew.
Khai An sat up abruptly, the dizziness forcing him to grab the edge of a nearby table. His hand touched a thin layer of dust. Gasping, he staggered toward the old wooden window and pushed it open. A cold, damp wind rushed in, bringing with it the earthy scent of rain and soil. Outside, under a gray sky, horse-drawn carriages clattered along cobbled streets, and faint lamplight pierced the misty rain. Khai An froze.
"What... the hell is going on?" he muttered, voice trembling.
His eyes darted around the room. Antique furniture, a bed covered with coarse woolen blankets, bookshelves packed with leather-bound books... No trace of modern technology. "Could it be... I've time-traveled?" Khai An stammered.
The last thing he remembered was last night, playing with a spirit board in a dark room with his friends. He clearly recalled that strange, cold gust of wind just as he tried to lift his hand from the board...
"Don't tell me I've actually been possessed...?"
While he was still dazed, a clear female voice echoed from downstairs: "Dex, are you done? Come down for dinner!"
Khai An jumped. "Huh? Who's that?"
Moments later, footsteps rushed up the stairs. The door burst open, and a boy about seventeen or eighteen peeked in.
"Brother Dex! Come on, Sis has been calling you for ages!"
Khai An stared, wide-eyed, at the unfamiliar boy. For a moment, he was stunned, then instinct told him to play along. "Ah... yeah, I'm coming. I'm just a bit tired—gonna wash my face first."
The boy nodded and darted off. Khai An let out a breath of relief. Entering the bathroom, he looked up into the fogged mirror. The face staring back was completely unfamiliar. A teenager with light brown hair, melancholy gray-blue eyes, a slim build but delicate features. And then, like a dam breaking, memories surged in.
Dex Curimon, eighteen years old, a student preparing for university exams. Orphaned of his mother, living with his sister Gura and younger brother Gilbert. His father, a renowned professor, was often away for work abroad. The family wasn't wealthy, but they got by.
A sudden spike of pain made Khai An—now Dex—close his eyes. "Is this real... or just a dream?"
A loud grumble from his stomach pulled him back to the moment. Khai An–Dex bit his lip. "Either way, I need to eat first."
…
Dinner was served under the warm glow of oil lamps. The steaming barley porridge with beef gave off a mouthwatering aroma. As soon as Khai An lifted his spoon, he couldn't help but marvel, "The sister in this body really can cook."
Across the table, little Gilbert slurped his porridge at lightning speed, like he had urgent business afterward. Gura only said a few things about school during the meal, while Gilbert remained silent and focused on eating. The dinner passed surprisingly quickly. As soon as they were done, Gilbert grabbed his bag and rushed out, the door slamming shut behind him. Khai An–Dex blinked, a little surprised. "Ah… probably going to extra classes."
Left alone in the kitchen, he understood it was his job to clean up. Turning on the faucet, Dex washed the dishes in silence. "Why on earth did I play with a spirit board... am I really in another world? But this place… feels familiar… like 19th-century Europe?"
Water trickled softly. Rain still fell outside. Under the dim lamp, the figure of a dazed teenager stood quietly, caught between a surreal reality and unanswered questions.
Khai An sighed, hoping it was just a fleeting dream. But cold reality hit every sense: the dripping water, the damp scent of rotting wood, and the persistent ache in his head—too real to ignore.
After finishing the dishes, he wiped his hands on a coarse cloth apron hanging near the sink, then looked up at the staircase. The house was quiet, with only the soft patter of rain beyond the eaves. Now known as Dex Curimon, Khai An picked up the kerosene lantern from the shelf, lit it, and cautiously stepped up the creaky wooden stairs.
As he passed the upstairs hallway, he noticed light spilling from a room on the right. Through a slightly open door, he saw Gura—Dex's sister—hunched over a desk, scribbling on thick stacks of documents. The flickering lamp turned her dark brown hair golden, creating a scene both ordinary and unfamiliar. A worn-out clock in the hallway struck seven with dry, rhythmic swings.
"At least time runs normally here," Khai An thought, comforted by that small bit of familiarity.
Back in his room, he closed the door, placed the lantern on the desk, and let out a long sigh. He began organizing the mess of books and papers left by the original Dex. Stack by stack, he sorted the study materials and textbooks. Sitting down, he propped his chin on his hand, deep in thought.
"Wake up already… please let me wake up…"
But the dream-like moment of awakening never came. Reality clung to every breath. Disheartened, Khai An picked up the documents on the desk. It turned out Dex Curimon had been preparing for the law entrance exam—a path that demanded determination and patience. Khai An smirked, half amused, half exasperated. "Pretty strong-willed, this Dex."
Back on Earth, Khai An had been a third-year history student, so the basic legal knowledge didn't feel too foreign. After all, laws were just a structured form of recorded history.
Skimming through the review notes, he found they covered basic civil law, legal history, and a few practical cases—not too difficult. "Nothing I can't handle," he thought. Though he hadn't fully accepted this strange reality, Khai An knew one thing: he had to play this role well. Since he had taken over this body, he would at least help Dex achieve his unfulfilled dream.
Gripping the pen, Khai An leaned in, the lantern's glow reflecting in his serious eyes. He didn't know where this world would take him... but he had to start where Dex Curimon left off.
Studying late into the night, Khai An—now Dex—fought sleep with sheer willpower. Eventually, his eyes grew too heavy to resist. He climbed into bed, buried himself in the thick woolen blanket, and drifted into slumber.
The night passed peacefully. Warm morning sunlight filtered through the glass window, casting golden streaks across the room. Dex rubbed his eyes and sat up, awestruck by the view outside. Rows of sharp-roofed houses, mossy gray stone walls, intricately carved window frames. It all evoked the 19th-century Europe he had only seen in books. This world… was magical. He couldn't help but be amazed. A dream, yet detailed enough to expand his imagination.
The clatter of wheels and the rhythmic beat of horse hooves echoed along the cobbled street. Then the smell of buttered bread wafted in on the breeze. Dex inhaled deeply, and his stomach rumbled in protest. Without hesitation, he slipped on his shoes and hurried downstairs, hoping for breakfast.
The house was still. The kitchen cold. The dining table empty. A small note under a water glass read: "Dex, we left early today. Make your own breakfast!"
Dex scratched his head and sighed. Life in this world seemed just as busy as back on Earth. He dug into his pocket. Two silver silin coins sat cold in his palm—just enough for a buttered roll.
Wasting no time, Dex put on his coat and stepped out. The morning sun bathed the city in a soft golden light, rain droplets still clinging to the rooftops. Munching on the crisp, warm bread, Dex strolled slowly, eyes wide with curiosity, taking in the new world. Every corner was a fresh wonder—swaying wooden signs, hurried carriages, elegant ladies and gentlemen in classic attire, wide-brimmed hats, lace gloves, floor-length dresses...
Dex watched eagerly, a thrill rising in his chest. Part of him still believed it was all a dream. But another part… hoped the dream wouldn't end so soon.
He wandered through the cobbled streets, savoring this vivid, unfamiliar experience. The bread in his hand had gone cold, but he barely noticed. His eyes were drawn to a small shop tucked in a corner.
Behind the foggy glass, a familiar object caught his eye—a classic Morse telegraph machine, with levers and thick copper wires. Dex nearly dropped his bread.
"A telegraph?!" He stared, pressing his face to the glass, both amazed and confused.
Wasn't this communication technology from Earth's late 19th century? The architecture, the lifestyle, the tech… why did this world resemble Earth so much? A coincidence? Or was there something deeper at play? As Dex struggled with his thoughts, a gentle tug on his coat startled him.
An old woman hunched with age, wrinkled skin, dressed in a long black dress with a dark headscarf. Her eyes were deep, as if they held a thousand years of secrets. She spoke in a raspy voice: "Your brows are dark with fate, child. Want me to read your fortune?"
Dex blinked. Huh? Fortune-telling? In this European-looking city, the scent of the East suddenly hung thick in the air.
He was dumbfounded for a moment, then stammered, "Uh… why does this place feel so Western… but now so Eastern too?"
The old woman smiled mysteriously, wrinkles deepening around her mouth.