Windows to The Soul | Twisted Wonderland

I - 1 | Embracing The Unfamiliar

He staggers to his feet, and a wet feeling follows the warmth growing on his back. Shifting his weight onto an arm as he leans forward, he reaches a hand through his hair. He brings a hand back to see blood smeared on his palms. It's no wonder why he lost consciousness just now.

His red-painted hand presses against the ground to push himself up, only managing to collapse on his knees. A red object glints from the little sunlight that manages to slip into the room. It's a pen with a luminous jewel that would put even the finest rose to shame with its radiant hue.

Right, a magic pen— he can patch himself up with magic. He pauses while holding the pen closer to the light. How did it go again? It's been... well, he can't recall the last time he cast a spell, especially not a healing one. There's no need for it as a ghost, but now he's occupying a human body. He should take care of it at the very least.

Closing his eyes for focus, he envisions his wound; possible swelling, an open wound, and a possibility of a concussion. There may be internal wounds if the blow rendered him unconscious. His head begins to tingle with the spell, rapidly increasing his natural recovery. He may look fine, but it's uncertain if the damage is greater than it appears.

Seeking medical help is an option, but he does not wish to draw attention to himself at the moment. For now, he decides to keep an eye on his condition. Unfortunately, even with the main issue resolved, there are still minor ones: his bloodied appearance and his identity— both of their identities.

Logically, it would be beneficial to prioritize the body's identity. Slipping the magic pen back into his front pocket, he pats at his thighs to feel for anything. Successfully, he located his cellular device. Alas, a perplexing impediment, also known as a password has obstructed his path. Or not. The phone unlocks when he holds it closer. It reads nine in the evening at the top.

Starting with the gallery, he scrolls through endless images of random scenery, including the ones taken here. The rest are food pictures, art of characters, and other miscellaneous images. Strangely enough, he doesn't take any of himself or even other people. Moving on, his calendar was void of any information, not even birthdays were put in there. Instead, they were listed in his notes app with his being noted on June 23rd. The other entries consisted of random lists of items or reminders with a few notes being unfinished writing pieces.

He brings a hand to his chin, softly tapping his finger as he can only think of how boring this person is. He huffs out in exasperation while tapping the screen to open Magicam. The content of his account does not surprise him in the slightest. If anything, it is quite like he expected. The account had pictures found in his gallery posted and had around 800 followers.

The only slightly surprising thing was his empty following list. Sure it could be said for his lack of bio and display name, but he figures he must dislike having his identity known even if it's online or he prefers to remain anonymous for others to view his photographs only. However, it seems his followers refer to him as "A" from his username: Astepthroughtime.

Still no name to refer by, he pauses for a moment after glancing at the time. His eyes trail down to his body. It appears to be a uniform, not to mention the armband secured around his upper arm. After he slides a finger under the band, he turns the centerpiece towards him, "Heartslabyul...?" His unfamiliar voice trails off with uncertainly as the foreign phrase rolls off his tongue. He knows for certain he is not on campus— surely, there would be a regulation of staying on campus.

Did he even gain permission to be here? It's not something he can answer, so he disregards it soon after. The same is applied to the question of how to return. With nothing better to occupy his mind, he turns to the ornamental box. It takes minimal effort to pry open the box, the worn hinges in decent condition as the box was buried out of sight and shielded from the open.