-"I'm not giving in!" I heard someone shout. "No matter what you do, I'll resist!"

I looked at my surroundings. I was in a small room, and apart from the bare walls and a few wooden chairs that were thrown hastily in its center, there wasn't much furniture around me. Judging by the simplicity of that place, I assumed whoever lived here wasn't the wealthiest person in the country. I directed my attention back to the man sitting in a chair in front of me, whose yells, I figured, I had heard earlier.

The poor fellow cried and begged for me to let him go. My hand, however, didn't seem to want to set him free, because it inexplicably rose in the air and slapped the old lad on his face.

Bringing it back to my side, I noticed how big and calloused my hand was.

Woah, hold on. Big and calloused? My hand was never like that! My usually slim pianist fingers would look much smaller. Granted, this used to earn me a few laughs here and there, but it proved to be of advantage whenever there was something we needed to get out from under the couch. A clue, for example. Or sometimes, Pierre's monthly payments' check.

Confused, I threw a glance towards the mirror on the wall in front of me.

And what I saw made me stumble. Or at least, metaphorically speaking. In reality, I-- or the body of whoever's head I was in-- didn't budge and kept hitting the poor man's figure.

In the dark, I couldn't quite distinguish my new physique, but I vaguely noticed the beard that grew under big, fat lips.

The victim's upper lip quivered.

-"Why are you doing this, Greg?" he asked me, or rather, the so-called Greg.

-"I could ask you the same thing, Kev," I replied. "I thought we were brothers," I continued against my will. "I thought we were going to keep up what our ancestors had started together!"

-"But can't you see?" Kev yelled desperately, his mustache trembling. "What they have been doing is wrong! I'm sorry, but I cannot work with you anymore."

Suddenly, my whole perspective changed. I was still in the same room, but now, I was watching the scene from Kev's eyes.

Greg's resemblance to Kev stroke me. If not for the beard and the mustache, one could've easily mistaken the two. They had the same platinum blonde hair, same green eyes. Both of them looked familiar as if I had seen them before. I felt as if I should've recognized them, but my mind couldn't remember for the love of God who they were.

Greg took a deep breath. His eyes narrowed in frustration and anger. But apart from that small movement, he didn't let the irritation win him over.

-"You'll regret this," he said. "Never forget what our father used to say: 'Each action has its consequences. Be it good or bad, someone will always take the blame.' He had always taught us to measure each action, see its benefits and disadvantages."

-"Ironic," I-- or Kev-- snorted. "Especially seeing how you're doing the complete opposite."

Another slap echoed between the four walls. I felt my cheek burn, although this wasn't me who had been hit.

And, whirling around, Greg stormed outside the room, slamming the door as he left.

Its loud thump woke me up. I turned my head, looking for a clock on the wall, but found none. Groaning, I dragged myself out of bed and went to search for my watch inside the closet.

When I finally found it underneath all the shirts, I struggled to read the hour. The first few sunbeams were falling on the crystal, making the light refract and divide into small rainbow-colored strips, not failing to blind me in the process.

And when I, in the end, managed to read it, I noticed that Francesco wasn't up yet. It was 6:30, and he was still peacefully lying on his bed. Attaching it around my wrist, I went back to my bed and imitated Frankie. Resting my head on the pillow, I started to admire the ceiling.

It was milky white, with, for a change, a few whiter spots here and there. The architects had been unquestionably creative while planning this room's decor.

After five minutes of me staring at this masterpiece, and after coming to the marvelous conclusion that I won't be able to sleep again, I decided to do something useful instead. And so I got up-- once more, yeah-- and exited the bedroom.

Walking down the hallway, I chose to head towards the library. A sinister calm greeted me as I entered. Now, I know that a library is usually quiet, but this silence felt different, odd.

Cold.

With no one around, and with the little rays of sunshine falling in a narrow line from between the imperfectly closed curtains, an eerie atmosphere reigned in the room.

Wandering amongst the bookshelves, I skimmed the titles from afar, seeking a book I could leaf through until everyone woke up. A book about the "Tize's Family Tree" caught my attention.

I opened the book. On the first page, a handwritten note had been scribbled down in a hurry, and, it seemed, in a quite frantic and furious way.

"It's Tai-zah, not Tee-zé, for God's sake! You filthy Arabic speakers..."

Quite a brilliant way to start a book, I must say.

I scanned the rest of the page.

"The book," I read another note, "was published in 1901, and thus some details may not be completely accurate and up to date."

"Interesting," I thought.

I flipped the page. A painted family tree greeted me. It was a blue and purple sequoia, which I assumed was this family's crest. A multitude of names adorned the even weirder colored branches.

My gaze glided over the dried paint, and my eyebrows furrowed at the weird titles that spread over the sheet.

After a good ten minutes of me studying this family's history, I had learned that "Tize" wasn't their last name, but a suffix they added after the first individual had a dispute with his old family. He then decided to found the "Tize" family, creating thus a new sub of the "Roussard" lineage.

This individual, called Léon at birth, renamed himself Lesmatize, to stand out and be different from his original family. He wanted to "make an impact," as he so blatantly said, according to the family book's introduction.

Later on, Lesmatize married Jeanne, and "invited" her to change her name too. Now baptized Jannittize, both she and her husband were the epitome of a happy couple.

Together, they wrote in 1653 the Tize's family decree, which consisted of the following:

1) Each new-born shall be named with a "tize" suffix at the end of his new title. In accordance, he is to be given a second name, a name he could use on informal and common occasions. Each member will thus have a double name, using each depending on the occurrence.

2) Members who join the family by marriage are solicited to get a "Tize" name, this second name being an emblem of the family's heritage.

3) Lastly, members shall support each other at all costs. Failing to do so will be considered as an act of high treason, and shall, with the support of his majesty, be severely punished.

And that's how, afraid of the almighty king and his possible sanctions, the following generations never failed to abide by those rules. Even after the French Revolution in 1789 and the overthrow of the monarchy, the Tize family had stayed close friends with those in power, keeping those alliances both to benefit their reputation and in fear of that one last rule.

From Pourmatize to Heronmitize, this family's creativity and courage outshone through the pages. Creativity, because I did not know how someone could come up with such names, and courage, because a person had to have a ton of nerve and audacity to proudly announce their name as "something-something-tize."

-"I know, right?" a female voice suddenly echoed in my mind, almost giving me a heart attack in the process.

-"Oh. You're awake," I noticed. And then, quickly added: "Amy."

Although she wasn't next to me, I could feel her sighing in exasperation.

-"What did we say about my nickname?" she reminded me.

-"Alright, alright," I rolled my eyes. "Anyway, what did you want to say?"

-"I just wanted to tell you to stop talking. You woke me up. And if you don't want to stop, at least cut our telepathic connection in the morning."

-"Excuse me? Let me remind you, miss, that I'm new here, and know nothing of telepathic links. Why don't you close our telepathy instead, if you're so annoyed by it?" I said with all the venom and bitterness I could muster.

-"Oh. It's an, umm, great idea," she admitted reluctantly.

-"Of course, darling. Anything else you wanted to say?"

-"Well, I couldn't help but notice that you stumbled upon the Tize's Family Tree."

-"And?"

-"Let's just say, the family's history with our time-traveler's society did have its dark moments."

-"Indeed?"

-"Aye. It all started with one small disagreement, which later on led to bigger problems, and finally, both the camps hating each other to death."

-"Wow. That's a pretty awful story. Did this whole issue get any better now?"

Someone snorted behind me.

I turned around, only to see an amused-- yet at the same time serious, don't ask me how-- Amanda staring at me. She was standing next to the curtains, and so, in a swift motion of her hand, she opened them. The sun fell on her, making her blond hair turn golden, and her grey eyes glow silver in the light. But what stroke me most in her appearance was her clothes.

-"What's that?" I exclaimed horrified, as soon as I saw whatever shirt and pants she was wearing. Normally, she would wear a simple skirt and a button-up shirt, or even a dress, but now, what she was wearing was something every fashion house would be completely terrified by.

-"Ah, that," she smirked. "Yesterday, Anne and Leila tried on some 2015 clothes. You see, they're the head of the fashion section, and so, every month, they try on new attires, one from each decade. After doing so, they invited me and many other time-travelers to try them on, which is why I'm wearing this white top and black jeans. And it turns out they're much more comfortable than what I used to wear normally, so I might start to wear this kind of attire more often."

-"I see," I said, still shocked. This was definitely going to take a while to get used to, but for now, I decided to let it pass, and put back the Family's Book on the shelf I originally took it from.

-"Wanna grab a bite?" I heard Amanda ask as soon as I put the book back in his place.

-"Oh, is it already breakfast time?"

She nodded, the fraction of a smile on her lips.

-"Well, let's go then," I grinned. And quoting the Tize's decree, I continued: "Saying no to food is considered to be an act of high treason."

***

Was this chapter written out of nowhere and in no way not planned? Yep, yep. Most definitely.

Was this chapter unnecessary? Aye. Aye, it was.

Did I stop laughing while writing it? Nope, I don't remember so.

Did I publish it without hesitating? Welp. If you're reading this, then I guess I did xD

Did you enjoy reading it? Ah, well. I certainly hope so, but I'm not sure I satisfy everyone's wills and needs :))