The ceiling above Mike was unlike any he had ever seen before no mere plain plaster or the sterile plastic panels of his school building. No. This ceiling was adorned with exquisite paintings depicting the night sky in breathtaking detail, as if the stars themselves were softly glowing. The artwork seemed foreign, adding to his growing sense of confusion.
He blinked several times, hoping his vision would clear. But everything around him remained sharp and vivid. Slowly, Mike rose from the bed, feeling the softness of the mattress and the blanket that wrapped around him like a warm embrace. The bed was vast and grand, framed by gilded pillars with silken curtains cascading gracefully. He inhaled deeply, the scent of roses and sandalwood filling his senses, stirring him back to reality.
"What the hell is this? What happened?" he thought, still struggling to grasp the reality before him. "Is the internship over? Am I awake?" The questions spun in his mind like trying to solve a complex math problem. He reached out, running his fingers over the smooth silk pajamas he was wearing clothes he had never owned before. The fabric was so soft it felt as if it was woven from threads of gold. This was no uniform he'd worn earlier; it was attire befitting a nobleman or... a king.
His heart began to race as he climbed out of the bed, his bare feet meeting the cold, gleaming brown floor. The surface was polished to such a sheen that it reflected his image, and it dawned on him that it was made of the finest wood. Mike's eyes widened as he took in the opulence of the room. It was more luxurious than any five-star hotel suite he had ever seen online. The walls were covered with paintings depicting epic battles, lavish feasts, and faces that stared back at him with a haughty gaze.
"This can't be real," he whispered softly, his voice barely breaking the silence.
As he made his way toward the door at the far end of the room, he paused when he passed by an enormous mirror with a golden frame hanging on the wall. Mike turned to look, and the sight that met him made him recoil. The reflection staring back was not the boy he had known all his life. Gone was the teenage face with unruly hair and smooth cheeks. In its place stood a grown man with a chiseled, bearded face and eyes that held a depth of experience and sharpness he had never possessed.
"What is this..." he choked on the words, his heart pounding as though it might burst from his chest. He reached out to touch the mirror's cool, smooth surface, but the reflection remained unchanged.
Suddenly, the grand door behind him creaked open, shattering the suffocating silence. Mike spun around, his heart still racing, to see a woman standing in the doorway. She looked to be in her early thirties, yet her beauty seemed timeless and captivating, like a flower that never withers. Her hair was neatly pinned up, as dark as the night sky, and her eyes shimmered like pearls, reflecting the flickering candlelight that filled the room.
She entered gracefully, her maroon gown flowing behind her like a stream of water. Her gaze rested on Mike with a warmth that was almost soothing, yet tinged with a hint of concern.
"Are you well, my husband?" the woman asked, her voice soft and melodious.
Mike stared at her, unable to hide the confusion etched across his face. "Husband?" he whispered to himself, struggling to make sense of this increasingly surreal situation.
He furrowed his brows, straining to recall who this woman was and how he had ended up here.
"Yes, my husband, are you alright?" she repeated, this time with a gentler smile, as though trying to reassure him. "You look troubled. Did another nightmare plague you? Perhaps you need more rest."
Mike wanted to respond, but the words seemed to evaporate on his tongue. All he could do was stand there, mute, watching as the woman stepped closer with a softness that almost made him feel at ease. She reached out, her fingers brushing his cheek with a touch that was both gentle and commanding. "You know, you must prepare yourself. The advisors are awaiting you in the council chamber."
"Advisors?" Mike could barely keep the confusion out of his voice.
The woman merely laughed softly, a sound like the delicate chime of a distant bell. "Oh, of course. The duties of a future king never cease, do they?"
"Ahh, so it has begun…" Mike muttered to himself.
Now, he began to understand. He was no longer Mike, the WC Technique student fresh out of a bootcamp. In this world, he was to become King of Vanchett, a ruler assuming his destined role.
"I... I will prepare myself at once," he muttered, his voice hoarse, almost unrecognizable to his own ears.
The woman smiled again, then bowed gracefully before leaving the room. The heavy door closed behind her with a resounding thud, leaving Mike alone in his bewilderment.
He drew a deep breath, turning once more to gaze at the reflection in the mirror.