The morning sunlight streamed through the freshly replaced windowpanes, casting a crisp, pleasant scent across the floor.
It was a tranquil dawn. The servants of the castle had risen early, resuming their daily routines. Baron Lamud had left for an inspection yesterday and had yet to return. Meanwhile, the two distinguished guests who had recently returned from overseas, along with the Baroness, remained in the castle. The servants had already prepared an extravagant spread, awaiting their masters' summons for breakfast.
As one of the castle's masters, it should have been a perfectly serene morning—one where Don Eggers Lamud, the youngest son of the Baron, could luxuriate in dreams filled with the aroma of bakeries, the dazzling array of supermarket deli foods, and the fizzy allure of carbonated drinks.
If only the relentless knocking at his door weren't so suffocating.
Don, who was notoriously foul-tempered upon waking, reluctantly pried his eyes open, already plotting which crooked tree he'd use to discreetly hang the offender by nightfall. When the knocking persisted—and no servant intervened—he had no choice but to crawl out of his warm blankets. His hair was a tangled mess as he sat up, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
Before even opening the door, his mind conjured the image of his impulsive older brother—a sword-obsessed brute.
Pulling the door open, Don glared blearily yet furiously at the towering man before him.
"Dearest Brother, if there's no urgent matter, might you allow your younger sibling to rest in peace? Or would you prefer a midnight visit from the maids, knocking on your door one. stroke. at. a. time?"
"Ha! Don." His brother, Owen Lamud, grinned and clapped a heavy hand on Don's shoulder, ignoring the younger man's wince. Without remorse, he shoved a broadsword—nearly as tall as Don himself—into his barely awake sibling's grip, utterly indifferent to the murderous glint in his eyes.
"Father taught us that physical training is a daily discipline, and self-restraint is a virtue… Oh, right. I came to remind you—you've overslept. Our mother is waiting for us at breakfast."
Don: "…"
A deep breath. Using his enhanced physique, he hurled the broadsword back into Owen's arms and slammed the door with a resounding thud.
From inside, Owen heard a string of furious muttering. Chuckling, he hefted the sword and strode away.
---
In the washroom, Don studied his reflection in the mirror as a voice echoed in his mind:
[Host, current standard time: 06:42.]
[Daily itinerary: Summarize the acting principles for 'Marionettist.']
[New tasks updated.]
Task One: A Marionettist's First Attempt
You've advanced from 'Faceless' to 'Marionettist.' As one of the most enigmatic abilities below demigod level, the Marionettist's powers can become a formidable weapon in your hands.*
Objective: Practice manipulating Spirit Body Threads on any sentient being.
[Progress: 31%]
Task Two: Red Light, Green Light
A Marionettist is nothing without marionettes. Hurry and find suitable sentient candidates—quality matters.
Objective: Create your own marionettes.
[Progress: 0/3]
Main Quests:
1. Advance to Sequence 4: 'Shadow Magician.'
2. Recover the Sequence 1 characteristics and Uniqueness of the 'Hermit' and 'Savant' pathways.
[PS: Should you switch to 'Mystery Scholar' or 'Alchemist' at Sequence 4? (✓YES/✓YES)]
"That PS is completely unnecessary. Thanks."
Don rolled his eyes. "You want me to turn into a caterpillar and wriggle on the floor for you?"
Anyone familiar with Lord of the Mysteries knew that recklessly switching pathways was a death sentence—if not literal death, then certainly madness. And not the fun kind.
Rubbing his temples, Don finished washing up and flopped back onto his sun-warmed bed, still drowsy. But after the earlier disturbance, the urge to "play dead" with hands folded over his chest had vanished. Instead, his thoughts circled back to the System.
A silent sigh escaped him.
"…It's been almost eighteen years."
Eighteen years ago, he'd died in a car accident in his original world. When he opened his eyes again, he was here—in this absurd reality.
"Of all worlds, why did it have to be Lord of the Mysteries?"
While transmigration had granted him a second life—a rare blessing—he'd have preferred even Naruto or Bleach. At least in those battle-heavy anime worlds, ordinary people stood a chance.
But no. It had to be Lord of the Mysteries, a Lovecraftian nightmare where gods, evil deities, and cults thrived. A world where most commoners struggled just to survive.
And he? He wanted to live—to cherish this hard-won second chance.
Another slow inhale. Exhale. Don sat up.
"This is just… terrible."
[Host, there's no need for despair.]
[Perhaps you could choose 'Mystery Scholar' or 'Alchemist.']
Don: "Heh."
Don: "Isn't that thing part of… whatever it's called?"
He couldn't recall the name. Only a vague impression remained. Truthfully, even after becoming a 'Seer' through potions, his memories refused to surface.
It wasn't forgetfulness. His spirituality, attuned to this world, warned him—remembering would bring dire consequences.
The same applied to many things. His instincts filtered out forbidden knowledge, shielding him. In this world, ignorance wasn't bliss; it was survival.
Yet the System that had accompanied his rebirth kept pushing him toward the 'Savant' or 'Mystery Pryer' pathways…
'Ugh. Disgusting.'
A few days prior, Don had returned from his voyage, having advanced to Sequence 5—'Marionettist'—after hearing the mermaids' song. Now, he gazed out at the radiant sunlight and exhaled slowly.
'Alright. The Fifth Epoch—the descent of the 'Fool'—is still over a millennium away.'
'With such a vast timeline… how should I navigate it?'
He rubbed his chin. "The 'Ancient Scholar' advancement ritual requires vanishing from reality for at least 300 years…"
"Well, Sequence 3 can wait."
Seated at the breakfast table, Don mused over his plans.
[Host, you could still choose 'Mystery Scholar' or 'Alchemist'—]
"System, dear." Don's voice dripped with faux sweetness. "Don't make me slap you during the happiest part of my day."
The System: […]
[Please be rational, Host.]
---
MC Pathway: Seer (with a mysterious occult 'System' tagging along).
(End of Chapter)