Wizard, I Have Another World – Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Identity

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Fire!

Raging fire!

Flames incinerated everything.

Silhouettes frantically ran and struggled helplessly within the blaze, their mouths letting out shrill screams and wails.

In the end,

everything turned to ashes.

“Phew…”

Karl abruptly sat up in bed, breathing heavily. His forehead was covered in sweat, and his eyes still held terror.

The scene from a few days ago reappeared in his dream.

After calming himself down and wiping the cold sweat from his forehead, he changed into a suit with a rustling sound and stood before the dressing mirror.

His slightly curly black hair hung down to his shoulders, his brown eyes still held a trace of drowsiness from just waking up. He had suffered severe burns on the left side of his face, and the scar marred his otherwise well-defined features, making his handsome face almost unbearable to look at.

Because he had business to attend to today, he specially changed into an expensive suit.

The blended fabric long coat, resembling an ancient suit, had both the smoothness of silk and the texture of fur, accentuating his muscular physique beneath the garment.

Karl Bergman, born in the Swick region of the Kingdom of Gando, currently residing in the South District of Signo City, a City Patrol Officer…

His grandfather had followed Marquis Lawrence in battles across the land, earning the title of Baron for his bravery, which was then inherited by his father.

A fire a few days ago had taken his father’s life, and he himself had suffered burns and psychological trauma to a certain extent.

And then…

His soul was replaced by a transmigrator from another world.

That’s right,

The current Karl was a transmigrator, both unfamiliar and familiar with this world, including ‘himself’.

“It’s over.”

“It’s already over!”

Muttering these words to himself in the mirror, Karl steadied himself and turned the doorknob, opening the bedroom door.

The living room.

The classical, worn-out style of medieval Europe came into view.

A cabinet covered in carvings stood on the left side of the room. The antique bronze handles on the drawers were the same style as the doorknobs, likely from the same manufacturer.

Wooden floors, hardwood tables and chairs, an extinguished kerosene lamp, the scent of vanilla and lemon permeated the air.

A pile of linen in the corner, its purpose unknown, served as a temporary home for flour and black bread.

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“Respected Baron Karl.”

Jenny, carrying slices of bread and milk, emerged from the kitchen with a beaming smile and slowly curtsied towards him:

“You’re awake, please have breakfast.”

She was a teenage girl, at the age of innocence and naivety, with skin as smooth as milk and a unique, clear, and melodious voice.

However, she clearly didn’t realize that her words were inappropriate.

“Jenny!” The voice of their landlady, Mary, rang out behind her, filled with anger:

“Don’t joke like that.”

“Yes.”

Jenny put away her smile:

“Karl, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Karl shook his head:

“You guys eat, I’m going to the church first.”

He wasn’t a Baron, or rather, not yet. Inheriting his father’s title required going through some procedures.

Inheriting the title meant his father’s death, which was not something to celebrate.

“To the church.”

“Three pennies.”

“Here.”

“Sir, please take a seat!”

Sitting in the carriage, Karl’s thoughts raced.

Three pennies were enough for an ordinary citizen to have a decent lunch, and the journey to the church wasn’t far.

It seemed that being a coachman was a good profession.

Out of instinct from his past life as a member of the working class and his unfamiliarity with this world, he habitually scrutinized everything around him.

His gaze shifted from the coachman to the horse.

The horse pulling the carriage was a small breed called a Tuck horse, known for its gentle nature and steady pace, a favorite among noble ladies.

Of course,

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its price was also quite high.

In addition to the Tuck horse, the meticulously decorated carriage itself must have cost a fortune.

Calculating this way, becoming a coachman required a significant initial investment, so it might not be such a good job after all.

‘Hmm…, I’m about to become a Baron, and the income of a City Patrol Officer isn’t low either, so there’s no need to be as penny-pinching as I was in my past life.’

‘Even without a Baron’s territory, the title of Baron is still enough for me to live a decent life.’

‘It’s just a pity that this place isn’t as convenient as modern society, and I haven’t found any clues of technological development. It’s more like medieval Europe.’

‘On the contrary, the Church’s authority is more secularized, even the inheritance of titles has to go through the Church, how ignorant…’

‘Not necessarily ignorant!’

The ‘peculiar’ scenes from his memories made Karl shake his head slightly. This world was not so simple.

The carriage stopped some distance from the church, out of respect for the great Morning Sun.

The church occupied a vast area, its architecture solemn and imposing. Pious believers were holding prayers in the square.

The spire was the most eye-catching, and the wheat emblem on it symbolized a part of the Morning Sun’s authority.

Abundance!

“May the Morning Sun be with you…”

Karl bowed slightly, passing by the people coming from the opposite direction, and entered Father Vic’s office through a side door.

“Father.”

He stepped forward and spoke respectfully:

“I’m here to handle the handover procedures for the Baron title.”

“Karl Bergman?”

“That’s me.”

Father Vic had deep-set features and a stern expression. His black, formal robe added an air of invisible authority.

Looking at Karl, he spoke slowly:

“Your father died fighting against the Fire Thieves and protecting civilians. He possessed the noble qualities of bravery and justice.”

“Yes.” Karl lowered his head, his voice deep:

“I’m proud of him.”

“However…” Father Vic’s tone changed:

“After discussion among several priests, his title cannot be inherited.”

Hmm?

“Why?”

Karl’s face showed surprise, then he quickly recovered:

“I’m not questioning your decision, Father, but my father’s bravery was commended by the City Lord himself.”

“The spirit of nobility, besides bravery and justice, also requires piety.” Father Vic clasped his hands together:

“Unfortunately, we haven’t seen piety towards the Morning Sun in him.”

“No!” Karl spoke seriously:

“Before every meal, my father would lead me in prayer, and he never touched meat or alcohol before and after the Holy Festival.”

“His piety is unquestionable!”

Whether it was true or not, he had to say it.

The Baron title was crucial to him. Without it, he was just a commoner.

Even his position as a Patrol Officer might be unstable.

In this era, commoners were only slightly higher in status than serfs, and their living conditions were, in his opinion, quite dire.

Thinking of this, Karl’s heart sank.

“Father, is there some misunderstanding?”

“Misunderstanding? There’s no misunderstanding!”

Father Vic shook his head with a solemn expression and asked:

“Karl, what month is it now?”

“Sep…” Karl changed his words:

“Month of Abundance.”

“Indeed.” Father Vic sighed with emotion:

“In the Month of Abundance, even the serfs in the city offer black bread, but your father has been in Signo City for several years and has never offered anything.”

Karl opened his mouth to speak.

Although they hadn’t sent anything to the church, they had always paid their tithes on time, never short.

However, these words were probably useless to Father Vic.

His gaze lingered on the exquisite and obviously expensive bracelet on the priest’s wrist. Karl silently lowered his head, lost in thought.