Thin Ice (M/M Transmigration)

Chapter 2

Calling himself a mess was an understatement.

Cale climbed to his feet and brushed his hair out of his face when it covered his eyes. Evidently, the tail had failed again. The brush the maid had given him laid unused on the bed and Cale now swallowed his pride and picked it up. He didn't have the time to doubt himself. He grabbed a piece of his white hair as well and started to slowly drag the brush through it. Thankfully, it seemed the hair wasn't predisposed to tangle and it didn't hurt too bad. It was still uncomfortable and odd though.

Once the mess he called hair was tamed to a decent degree, Cale changed into another pair of clothes, similar enough to the previous pair that he didn't mind wearing them. The last thing he did was pull on the pair of black heeled boots he still wasn't used to walking in.

While making the short trip to the bathroom he had unofficially claimed as his, he twisted his hair into a tail high on his head and tied it with a ribbon. He had finally gotten good at using the ribbon.

It took a while, but he was pretty sure he was finally getting used to this body. After all, he human mind was surprisingly adaptable.

And despite what it may occasionally seem like, Cale didn't actually have a death wish.

He was just kind of horrified by the idea of someone else inhabiting his body and playing out his life.

After visiting the bathroom, he went back to his room to try to make sense of the mess he had created in his frantic searching to prove this wasn't real by finding flaws in the texts. There had been no flaws. While he was sure that he was in the world of a novel, there had been no mention of these books and texts in it. Which led credit to that this world was somehow real. The question that made him feel trepidation though was, had the author created the world, or had they only written about it?

If they had only written about it, had they truly told the entire story?

But such thoughts only made his head hurt and his heart fill with anxiety. It was better for him to focus on one thing at a time. It made it easier to deal with the entire thing.

Once his room was at a level where he wouldn't be embarrassed when the maid came to clean it, he left to make his way downstairs. Somewhere there should be a dining hall where he could get food. Although he apparently had a maid, or more precisely, a servant, of his own, he had no idea how to summon her and ask for food. She usually just appeared magically when he needed something.

He wondered if there was some kind of magic involved with that as well.

Logically speaking, the dining hall should be on the ground floor. Cale stepped through the hallways carefully, taking gentle steps on the heeled boots. They were both easy and difficult to walk in, the body of Calla had the muscle memory of how to use them, but Cale had never used anything with heels before and so as soon as he thought about what he was walking in, he went from stepping effortlessly, to stumbling over his own feet. It was generally fine as long as he didn't think about it, but trying not to think about something usually made you think of it.

He was sure he made quite a hilarious picture to anyone that could see him.

He had a death grip on the railing the entire time he was on the stairs. It was both nerve-wrecking and nightmare inducing. He just couldn't stop seeing himself falling down them and breaking his neck. Forget about being poisoned by the villain, that would just be a sad way to go.

Finally, he made his way to the ground floor. Now all he had to do was find the dining hall.

Easier said than done.

Cale kept his steps as even as possible in someone else's body and wearing unfamiliar shoes as he walked through the various rooms and corridors. He had missed it before, but this house was like a freaking labyrinth.