Kayn slept with a rare smile on his face. The thrill of his latest stunt had brought a strange warmth to his otherwise gray existence, and the satisfaction from imagining the reactions of his readers had carried him off into a deep sleep. But as he woke up, his smile slowly faded. He blinked his eyes open and frowned. This wasn't his penthouse.
He was lying in a bed larger than any he had ever slept in, surrounded by luxurious silk sheets and heavy velvet drapes. The room was spacious and elegantly decorated with dark wood furniture and paintings of landscapes that he didn't recognize. He quickly sat up, his heart racing with a mixture of fear and—oddly enough—excitement.
"Where am I?" he muttered to himself, his voice echoing slightly in the large room. His first thought was that he had been kidnapped. Then he considered the possibility of an alien abduction. That one actually made him chuckle—a brief, almost delirious laugh that escaped his lips before he could stop it.
Suddenly, someone knocked at the door. The sound was soft at first, a gentle tapping, but it quickly grew louder and more insistent, as if whoever was on the other side was growing impatient. Kayn stared at the door, considering his options. He could get up and open it, but then he thought, Why bother? If they really wanted to come in, they would. So he waited, watching the door intently.
The knocking continued, becoming more rhythmic and hurried. It almost sounded like a drumbeat. Without realizing it, Kayn started to hum along with the rhythm, a melody from a childhood song coming to his lips.
"Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wond—"
Suddenly, the knocking stopped. The abrupt silence was startling, causing Kayn to sit up straighter. The door creaked open, and in walked a short, beautiful woman with black hair neatly tied back, dressed in a traditional maid's costume. Her entrance was as abrupt as the cessation of the knocking, and she immediately filled the room with a sense of purpose.
"Good morning, Young Master," she said with a polite but urgent tone. "As much as I would like to listen to your pleasant voice, you're getting late, and you know what the family head always says: first impressions always matter."
Seeing the woman come in, Kayn frowned and said out loud, "Damn it, not an alien."
The maid didn't even bat an eye at his outburst, as if such random comments were typical from him. "Please come and have your breakfast, Young Master. At this rate, we're going to be late."
At the mention of food, Kayn stood up almost robotically. He hadn't eaten the night before, and the mention of breakfast immediately made his stomach growl with hunger. As he walked toward the woman, he stopped abruptly in front of a giant mirror on one of the walls. Staring back at him was a handsome young man with hair as black as night and eyes even darker. His face was finely chiseled, like a marble statue brought to life. He had high cheekbones, a strong jawline, and an almost ethereal quality to his appearance. His skin was flawless, and his dark eyes seemed to hold a depth that could draw anyone in. He looked like he could be a model in any world.
"Kayn," he muttered, feeling a strange disconnect between his reflection and his own sense of self.
The maid, having heard him, spoke up. "Yes, Young Master, that's your name, so would you please hurry up?"
Staring at his reflection, Kayn's lips slowly curled into a smile as realization dawned on him. He finally knew where he was. Somehow, impossibly, he was in the latest novel he wrote. And how did he know? The reflection staring back at him was a carbon copy of one of the characters he had commissioned an artist to draw. This character, in particular, was a sort of homage to his real self. Much like Kayn, the character couldn't see colors and had a hard time feeling emotions.
A grin spread across his face as he exclaimed, "That was dangerous! If I stared at myself any longer, I'd probably turn gay. Sigh, such is the price I have to pay for being so handsome."
The maid, whose name he now remembered as Arlene, looked fed up with his theatrics. "Oi! We're getting late! Get your fucking ass in the carriage, and don't even think about getting breakfast!"
Seeing her reaction, Kayn's grin widened even more. "Not even a cup of orange juice? Do you want me to die of scurvy? I'm a growing young man, and I need my daily vitamin C!"
Arlene rolled her eyes in exasperation but was clearly used to his antics. "Just get moving, Young Master"
Kayn chuckled to himself as he followed her out of the room. It was all so surreal. He had written Arlene to be his best friend since childhood, someone who wouldn't hesitate to slap some sense into him if he acted up too much. Seeing her in the flesh, playing her role perfectly, added another layer to the bizarre situation he found himself in. It seemed like his characters had come to life just as he had imagined them.
As they moved through the opulent hallways of what he now recognized as his character's manor, Kayn's mind raced with possibilities. This was the most excitement he'd felt in years. The gray that had settled over his life after the accident was beginning to lift, if only slightly. This world was his creation, and he knew it inside out. If he could play his cards right, maybe he could find a new kind of thrill here—one that could bring back some of the colors he had lost.
The maid's stern voice broke through his thoughts. "And don't think you can get away with slacking off just because you're the Young Master of the Ashford family. I would be watching over you like a hawk."
"hawk, huh?"
Kayn smiled at Arlene's words and, on an impulse, reached out to hug her from behind. "I'll miss you," he whispered, his voice softer than he'd intended.
At his words, Arlene's demeanor changed entirely. Her eyes, which had been so stern just moments before, began to redden with unshed tears. "Do you have to leave? The family head already gave you permission to not attend if you don't feel like it," she pleaded, her voice breaking slightly.
Hearing her words, Kayn felt a pang of guilt. He really wanted to stay. This world felt strangely comforting, almost like home. But the thought of the adventure he had been longing for, the excitement that had eluded him for so long, was more than enough reason for him to leave.
One might wonder why he was behaving so closely with someone who was basically a stranger to him. But to Kayn, Arlene was not just a fictional character; she was a living embodiment of his deceased elder sister. He had based Arlene's appearance, her temperament, and even her habits on his sister, down to the smallest details. In the novel, the actual conversation that Arlene and Kayn were originally supposed to have now was the last conversation he had with his sister, right before the accident that changed his life.
When he said, "I'll miss you," he didn't mean it to this Arlene, but to his sister—the sister he never really got to say goodbye to. He had written the Ashford family with his real family in mind, using them as a template
As he stepped into the carriage, his head began to ache, a dull throb that pulsed with each new thought and emotion. He was overstimulated, flooded with memories and feelings that this new body wasn't used to. The old Kayn, who had grown numb to emotion, was now feeling everything at once. His heartbeat quickened, and his breathing grew shallow as the weight of his new reality settled on his shoulders. The carriage door closed behind him, and as it began to move, Kayn leaned back against the seat, closing his eyes.
The pain in his head intensified, like a drumbeat echoing through his skull. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. The journey ahead would be long and uncertain, but for the first time in a long while, he felt something that he hadn't felt in years—a spark of life, a flicker of hope, and a sense of purpose.
He opened his eyes and gazed out of the carriage window as the manor slowly disappeared from view, his thoughts a tangled mess of past regrets and future possibilities. As the carriage rolled on, he knew that this world, this adventure, was a chance to find what he had been searching for all along—a way to feel alive again.