The concept of reincarnation was no stranger to me. You could find it everywhere you looked in the the twenty-first century; television, novels, manga, and animation. Ironically, reincarnation or transmigration was my favorite trope.
I had always im...
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The floor of the carriage was colder than Felix expected. His cheek pressed against worn velvet carpet, the scent of old tobacco and leather filling his nose with every jolt of the wheels. Hands were bound behind his back with military precision, it was tight but not painful. His ankles were crossed and secured too, the rope biting slightly through the socks with every sway.
Rain pattered against the roof above. Somewhere near the front, someone's muffled voice exchanged a joke with the driver, followed by the creak of the driver’s seat as the horses were pulled to a slower pace.
Felix rolled slightly, trying to ease the numbness creeping up his left arm. Every now and then, bars of yellow light flickering across Felix’s face before vanishing into dark again.
Then again that voice, it was heard from outside the door.
"Still with us?"
Felix muffled angerly, swaying his body violently before kicking his feet on the ground. The door creaked open and rush of damp air swept in.
The kidnapper leaned in, one foot on the step.
"It is good to see you too, Lil'fledgling"
Felix turned his face slightly toward him and froze upon seeing the person.
Jack Renfield.
That old good-looking bastard dared to kidnap him? He gritted his teeth on the cloth, finally chewing off the fabric like a hamster.
"I hope you choke on your own perfect teeth, old geezer"
Jack laughed, genuinely amused and shut the door again. The carriage rolled.
Felix let out a long, irritated breath.
'A silver fox kidnapper… I am flattered. Who wouldn't want to be kidnapped by Jack Renfield?' Sarcasm. How the hell had it come to this? Well it started with a nice cold evening.
A week ago
The wind caught the brim of Felix’s hat, nearly lifting it off his head as he crossed a cobbled street, the paper bag tucked under his arm crinkling with each step.
The hem of his coat flapped at his knees, stained with the city’s dust and the early morning’s damp. Lovely, nothing better than inhaling dust in the morning. Two lemons, a loaf of rye bread, eggs and a packet of Madame Langlois’ preferred Earl Grey. Hardly enough to call it an errand worth kidnapping someone over...
Wait, that thought came uninvited. Weird but oh well, that's your usual morning.
But why is he getting this prickling feeling in his chest?
