"Ugh…"
Zamir groaned as he slowly opened his eyes. Everything was spinning. His vision was blurry, and his head felt heavy. He couldn't stand properly—his legs gave out, and he fell to his knees. His ears were ringing, and he couldn't even hear his own breathing. With one hand on the floor, he started crawling, still trying to reach for something familiar.
"Kasura!" he shouted, but there was no reply.
The floor didn't feel like the street. It was smooth and cold—definitely not asphalt. It was polished, almost like marble. He kept crawling until his hands touched something soft. A carpet. Thick and fluffy. He collapsed on it, breathing hard.
As he lay there, facing the ceiling, he tried to calm the dizziness. The ringing in his ears slowly faded. He took a few deep breaths. When his eyes finally adjusted, he noticed something strange about the ceiling. It was gold. Not gold-colored—actual gold. Polished so well he could see his reflection.
He sat up, startled, and looked around. The walls were white with gray veins running through them—some kind of polished stone. They were covered in detailed carvings. The furniture around him looked expensive—shiny tables, chairs with velvet cushions, golden decorations, even a small glass table with a crystal bowl sitting on top.
"Where… am I?"
He stood up slowly, moving carefully, afraid to bump into anything. Everything looked like it belonged in a palace. He spotted a balcony and made his way toward it, weaving through the room like someone trying not to break anything.
The railing was gold, too. When he looked out, he stopped in his tracks.
There were clouds. A sea of clouds as far as he could see. He stepped back quickly. He hated heights. But something felt strange. There was no wind. He looked closer and saw a shimmer in the air. Like an invisible barrier protecting the balcony from the outside.
"What is this? Where am I?" he said again.
"Kasura, where are you?" he called out one more time, hoping this was still some weird dream.
Behind him, the doors opened.
He turned around quickly. A young woman stood there, holding a cleaning rag. She had pale green feathers, a simple maid outfit, and wide, terrified eyes.
She stared at him. Her hands started shaking.
Zamir stared back.
"Uh… hi?" he said.
The maid screamed and dropped the rag. She turned and ran.
"H-H-He's awake! He's awake!" she yelled, her voice fading as she sprinted down the hallway.
Zamir blinked.
...That was weird.
A few seconds later, heavy footsteps echoed from outside the room. The golden doors swung open again—this time not slowly or gracefully. Four people walked in with serious faces. They were dressed like high-ranking officers or nobility.
At the front was a tall woman with silver feathers around her shoulders like a cape. Her eyes glowed slightly, and she looked like someone who didn't laugh often. She walked in first, followed by three others. One looked like an older man in formal black, one wore golden armor with a helmet and glowing red eyes, and the last one wore robes with symbols stitched across them.
They stopped in front of him. The silver-feathered woman bowed her head.
"My liege…" she said. "You have returned."
Zamir didn't speak.
Behind her, the other three all knelt in unison.
"We live to serve," they said.
Zamir just stood there, mouth slightly open.
The woman stood up straight again.
"I am Virelth Noxis, Secretary of State," she said. "I handle foreign relations and internal policies in your absence."
My absence?
The older man in black bowed next.
"I am Althus Krowe, Head of Castle Keeping. Your halls remain secure. I manage the staff and the guards who protect your estate."
I think this guy has probably assassinated people for fun.
The one in armor stepped forward.
"I am Vel'Zharon the Radiant, Commander of the Praetoria. Ten legions stand ready to execute your divine will."
Please don't execute anyone. Please.
Finally, the thin one with robes smiled and bowed.
"I am Phex Talonmark, Minister of Coins. The empire's resources are ready to serve you."
Zamir looked at all four of them. He recognized the names. He recognized the outfits. These were NPCs. From Avalon. His old save file. The one he hadn't touched in years. But somehow, he was here. In the middle of it. Surrounded by them.
And they were real.
Talking.
Breathing.
Kneeling.
He swallowed and forced himself to speak.
"You… have all done well," he said, trying to sound like someone in charge.
The four nodded.
"We were not informed of your return," Virelth said. "The maid who found you is being questioned. Should we proceed with punishment?"
Zamir's heart jumped. "No! No punishment. She did the right thing."
Vel'Zharon's head tilted. "Shall we begin purging the rumors? I imagine word is already spreading. There may be panic."
Zamir waved his hands. "No panic. Just… keep things calm. Tell people I'm resting. Or thinking. Or meditating. Or something."
The others nodded like his words made perfect sense.
Virelth bowed again. "As you wish, my lord."
Without another word, the four of them turned and left the room. The doors closed behind them.
Zamir was left alone in the golden throne room.
He looked at the ceiling again. Still gold.
He sat down slowly on the throne behind him. It was bigger than he expected. His legs didn't even reach the floor. He adjusted himself a bit and leaned back.
Everything was quiet.
He looked around the room. Looked at his hands. At the golden walls. The furniture. The guards outside.
Okay. So I'm back in my old save file. Somehow. Everyone thinks I'm in charge. They're all terrifying.
And I really, really don't understand what's going on.