I sighed, rolling over and sitting up, giving him a casual wave. "Nobody, alright? I'm just some poor soul trapped in your damn body for… well, who the hell knows how long."
Orphie stood there, stiff as a board, staring at me like he'd just seen a ghost.
"Relax, kid," I added with a shrug, "I'm not a ghost. Though, if I were, I'd definitely be the sassiest one you'd ever meet."
Still wary, he dropped into some sort of defensive stance, like he was ready to throw hands. "How am I a kid?" he asked, frowning. "You look the same age as me."
I laughed. "Yah, well, good point, Sherlock. I am the same age… physically." Then, with a dramatic sigh, I added, "But let's just say I've been hanging out in your body for… longer than you think."
See, here's the fun thing: elves don't age like humans. When Orphie hit 56 in his second life, dude still looked like he barely hit 25. That's the weird thing about elves. They grow normally until about 25, then hit 'pause' on the aging process for, like, forever. And me? Even though I'm technically human, my soul's been stuck growing at his pace. So, despite my real age, I was still sporting the same youthful appearance as him. Talk about confusing.
Orphie, still frowning, seemed to relax a little. "That doesn't make any sense."
I smirked, leaning back on my hands. "Well, kid, sometimes life just doesn't make sense. Especially when you've got a mysterious soul trapped in your head for who knows how long. But hey, you've got me now—so that's a plus, right?"
He didn't look convinced, still eyeing me with suspicion. "So… what are you? Some kind of… curse?"
I grinned. "Curse? Nah, I like to think of myself as a blessing—with a hint of snark. A two-for-one deal, if you will."
He crossed his arms. "And why should I trust you?"
I threw my hands up in mock innocence. "Trust me? Pfft. You don't have to! But let's be real, if I wanted to mess with you, don't you think I would've done it by now? I mean, I have been in your head for a while. I've seen things, Orphie. Things."
His face paled slightly, and I couldn't resist adding, "Like that time you were trying to cast a spell and accidentally sneezed—right in front of that cute girl at the market."
His eyes widened. "That was… you were there for that?!"
I nodded sagely. "Oh, I was always there. Every embarrassing moment, every bad haircut, every awkward silence…"
He groaned, running a hand through his hair. "This can't be happening."
He looked at me, still trying to process everything. "So… are you just going to stay here forever?"
I snorted. "No, thanks. That's not exactly on my wishlist either. Trust me, kid, nobody wants to be stuck in an emo elfie's head for eternity. It's exhausting."
"Especially seeing you whining and crying in your bedroom like a kid—it's exhausting," I said, smirking as I stretched out lazily.
Orphie's face flushed with embarrassment. "Hmmm... I'm so embarrassed," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.
I waved it off, trying to suppress a laugh. "Worry not, you're not alone in the awkward department. Honestly, that's still better than being stuck as a five-year-old."
"Five-year-old?" He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued.
"Ugh, never mind. Slip of the tongue," I said quickly, shifting uncomfortably. "But seriously, how did you even get here? I was pretty damn sure you weren't capable of waltzing into this little soul chamber of mine. And I definitely wasn't able to go outside and take control of your body unless you fainted or got hypnotized or something. Really, I'm impressed. You're already better than the previous Orpheus."
He looked even more confused. "Wait… what? You can control my body? And what do you mean by 'previous Orpheus'? There were others?"
I let out a dramatic sigh and scratched my head. "Wow, so many questions. Alright, kid, let me break it down for you—first of all, yes, I can control your body, but only under special circumstances. Y'know, like when you faint, or if you're put under some serious hypnosis. I'm not exactly a mind-control freak, but when the moment strikes, I've gotta take charge."
His eyes narrowed, clearly disturbed. "You can take over my body?"
"Relax, I haven't done it yet—well, okay, maybe once or twice, but it was for your own good!" I added with a grin. "Anyway, about the 'previous Orpheus' thing, yeah, you're like the fourth version. You're basically an Orpheus 4.0. New and improved model."
He blinked. "I'm… version four? Are you serious?"
"Oh yeah," I said, leaning back like this was no big deal. "You've lived a couple lives already, bud. But the good news is, you're definitely the least emo version so far. The first Orpheus? Absolute nightmare. Dude was brooding 24/7. Talk about depressing."
Orphie looked like he was processing way too much information. "But… how… and why?"
I shrugged. "Eh, life, reincarnation, magic, fate, the usual. Honestly, I'm still piecing together the why part myself. But you're the fourth life of the same soul, and I've been tagging along for the ride. Fun times, right?"
He rubbed his temples like he was getting a headache. "This is too much to take in."
"Oh, it gets better!" I said with a grin. "Each life you've lived, you've had different powers. First life, you were a total plant-master, very green thumb and all. Second life? Ice powers, pretty damn cool—pun intended. And now… well, you're starting to unlock all kinds of mental and magical abilities."
He groaned, sitting down as if the weight of this revelation was too much. "So you've been there, watching everything?"
"Yup!" I said, popping the 'p' for emphasis. "Every embarrassing moment, every awkward stumble. I've seen it all. But hey, at least you're not as much of a coward as Orpheus 2.0. That guy… yeesh."
He gave me a horrified look. "And I can't get rid of you?"
"Afraid not, pal. We're stuck together until… well, I don't actually know. Fate's still working out the kinks, I guess."
Orphie sighed, burying his face in his hands. "Great. Just great."
I grinned. "Look on the bright side! At least you've got someone with experience to help you out."
He gave me a half-hearted glare. "Someone who's watched me cry in bed…"
I chuckled. "Hey, it builds character."
"Crying's not bad at all," I said, shrugging. "I do it when my mom doesn't give me ice cream."
Orpheus gave me a confused look. "Wait, what? You have a mother?"
I grinned. "Oh, yeah! That brings me to the fun part. So, you see, I kinda live a dual life. During the day, I'm Lior, and when I sleep at night, I get shifted into this soul-chamber thingy where I hang out with you. It's been like this for… I dunno, six months or so. Then, when the six months are over, I get to go back to my normal life as Lior. When I wake up, it's like no time has passed at all, like I just wake up the next morning as if nothing happened. It's kind of a trip, really."
Orpheus blinked at me, his face a mix of disbelief and confusion. "Wait, so you're saying that when you're not stuck here, you're living another life? As… Lior?"
"Exactly!" I said, clapping my hands together. "Lior by day, soul-trapped-in-an-elf's-body by night. Think of it as a magical double life. In one, I'm a pretty normal guy—well, if you count normal as a bit of a troublemaker. And in the other… I get to watch you sulk in bed and cry over your tragic life."
He squinted at me, still not fully grasping the situation. "So, for half the time, you're a regular person, and for the other half, you're... here?"
"Yup. Pretty wild, right?" I said, leaning back casually. "It's like a shift system. Day job as Lior, night job as your soul companion. Not really my choice, but hey, what can I do? Magic's weird."
Orpheus looked like he was still trying to process this. "And… you go back and forth? Like, you just wake up in your own life after six months?"
"Exactly! One day, I'll be eating breakfast with my mom, and the next, boom—I'm here, stuck with you. Then, after six months, I go back, and it's like nothing happened. It's like hitting a reset button." I chuckled, leaning closer to him. "So yeah, I've got a mom, a house, and a whole life outside of your emo elf world. But don't worry, you're still my top priority when I'm here… sort of."
Orpheus sighed, rubbing his temples again. "This is… insane. So you're living two lives, and you just get pulled into mine?"
"That's right, emo elfie," I said, flashing him a grin. "I'm here for the ride whether I like it or not. And let me tell you, juggling between the two lives? It's exhausting."
He groaned. "And I thought my life was complicated."
"You have no idea," I said, shaking my head. "But at least you're not the one getting pulled into a magical soul chamber. You just get to cry in bed and deal with your kingdom's drama. Meanwhile, I'm stuck with a double life and no ice cream."
We talked for what felt like hours. I told him everything—about the previous Orpheus lives, the struggles, the pain, the weirdness of it all. The more I spoke, the more I felt my emotions bubbling up. I hadn't realized how much I'd been holding back. By the time I started talking about the first Orpheus and how he met his tragic end, I could feel my throat tighten.
Orpheus was silent, still trying to process everything I was telling him. I looked away, trying to hold it together, but my voice cracked as I started talking about the second Orpheus—how he begged me to save him, how I couldn't, and how his life slipped away. It was like all the weight I'd been carrying finally caught up to me.
"Damn it…" I muttered, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. "It's not like I wanted to get attached, you know? But each of you… you're all the same, yet different. And every time, I just lose you."
Orpheus didn't say anything at first, but then, in his calm voice, he spoke. "It must have been hard, going through that. Losing someone… over and over again."
I sniffed, trying to pull myself together. "Yeah, well, it sucks. But it's not like I had a choice. Every time, I told myself I wouldn't get involved. I'd just watch, maybe guide things along. But you… all of you, you just get under my skin."
Orpheus nodded, his expression softer now. "I can't imagine what that must've been like. But… I'm here now. And I'm not going anywhere."
For a moment, I just stared at him. His words were simple, but they hit me harder than I expected. This Orpheus was different. He wasn't brooding or cold like the first, or fearful like the second. He wasn't distant like the third. He was… kind. Grounded. I could feel it in the way he looked at me, the way he listened.
"Thanks," I said, my voice quieter now. "You're… you're really something, you know that?"
He gave me a small smile. "I don't know about that. But I'll do my best."
I let out a weak laugh. "You're definitely the best Orpheus so far. Maybe I've finally got a version of you that won't leave me all broken at the end."
"Let's hope so," he said softly.
We sat in silence for a while after that, both of us lost in our thoughts. For the first time in a long while, I felt… lighter. Maybe things would be different this time. Maybe this Orpheus was the one who'd stick around long enough for me to stop feeling like everything was slipping through my fingers.
Life with Orphie turned out to be much better than I ever imagined. He made a habit of coming to talk to me every day. It wasn't just some obligatory check-in; he actually seemed interested in what I had to say. Sometimes, I'd catch him listening intently, like he was trying to understand the puzzle of who I was.
"Hey, Lior," he'd say, popping into our little mental room. "What's new in the real world? Any crazy Lior stories today?"
And I'd tell him. I'd go on about my life as Lior, the ups and downs, my family, and my friends, and even the small, random things like my daily quest for ice cream.
Speaking of ice cream, Orphie was a real bro—he let me take control of his body sometimes. So, yeah, I'd slip out into the world, order a huge bowl of my favorite flavor, and just enjoy it. Orphie didn't mind either. In fact, I think he enjoyed watching me experience the simple pleasures he never really cared about in his past lives. "This is the good life," I'd say, spoonful of ice cream in hand. "Trust me, Orph, you haven't lived until you've had a sundae this big."
He'd just laugh and shake his head. "I'm starting to see that."
But it wasn't all just fun and games. I also taught him stuff, especially combat techniques I'd picked up from his previous lives. We'd spar, mentally of course, and I'd show him the moves that the first and second Orpheus had mastered. Orphie wasn't a bad student either—he picked things up fast, and I could see him growing stronger.
"There you go!" I'd cheer, when he'd finally get a move right. "You're getting there! You're like 50% less useless than you were last week."
"Gee, thanks," he'd reply with a smirk. "Can't wait to be a fully functional fighter by the time I'm 80."
"Don't worry, I'll make you into a legendary fighter before you can even say 'emo elfie.'"
The days kind of blurred together, but it was the good kind of blur, you know? The kind where time flies because things are just… good. I wasn't just trapped in Orphie's body anymore; we were actually becoming friends. Maybe even something closer than that.
Orphie had truly become the best friend I'd ever had, not just in this life, but in the one before as well. We spent hours talking, about anything and everything. He'd listen to me, patiently, without judgment—something I hadn't experienced before. And I'd do the same for him, because even with all his strength and power, Orphie had his own fears and uncertainties.
There were days when we'd just sit in silence together, a comfortable silence, like the kind where you don't have to fill the air with words because just being there is enough. But then, there were other days when we'd talk for hours, bouncing jokes off each other, or discussing deep things like his past lives or the meaning of it all. Honestly, it felt like we were building something more than just a partnership.
His sensei—the old mage—was part of it too. He was a remarkable person, that old hag. Despite his strict demeanor, he knew about me, and instead of freaking out, he just… accepted it. He'd even laugh at our antics sometimes, like when Orphie and I would set up harmless pranks to mess with him. The look on his face when he opened a chest full of frogs instead of magical scrolls—priceless.
"He knows about me?" I'd asked Orphie once, surprised.
"Yeah," Orphie had said, grinning. "Told him a while back. He didn't seem too shocked. Guess the old guy's seen it all."
That was the thing about the old mage. He wasn't just a mentor; he was part of our odd little family. He'd train Orphie hard, pushing him to master new spells and techniques, but never without a twinkle of mischief in his eye. And sometimes, I'd join in, guiding Orphie on the more subtle techniques I'd learned from his past lives. We had become a team, the three of us, and for the first time in a long time, I felt like I wasn't just a soul stuck in someone else's body.
I was living.
I was living a life I always wanted—full of adventure, laughter, and sarcasm as the primary form of communication between Orphie and me. It became our language, the kind of humor that only best friends can share. We'd throw jabs at each other, snarky comments flying left and right, and somehow, it made everything feel lighter. Like when he'd mess up a spell, and I'd be there to mock him relentlessly.
"Nice job, genius," I'd say, watching as his hair stood on end from the lightning spell that backfired.
He'd roll his eyes, brushing off the static. "At least I'm not the one whose greatest achievement is farting in my own soul chamber."
"Hey! That was one time, and I was under duress," I'd shoot back, pretending to be offended.
But those were the kinds of moments that made everything worthwhile. We'd go on missions together, travel to far-off places, facing enemies and challenges, but no matter how dire the situation, there was always room for a well-timed joke. Like the time we fought a giant sandworm in the desert. I was out there in Orphie's body, dodging its massive jaws, and all I could think to say was:
"I hope you know I'm charging you double for this!"
Orphie, inside, replied with a deadpan, "Yeah, yeah. Just make sure we don't die first."
Our trips weren't just about fighting and missions, though. Sometimes, we'd explore new places just for the hell of it. Orphie had this insatiable curiosity, and I guess it rubbed off on me. We visited ancient ruins, magical forests, and once, a floating city in the sky. Each place was like a new chapter in this weird, wonderful life we were leading together.
And through it all, that sarcasm kept us sane. It was our way of reminding each other that, no matter how tough things got, we had each other's backs—and could still laugh in the face of it all.
Good times really do pass quickly. Before I knew it, Orpheus had grown into his thirties, and we'd both seen a lot. His master—our master—had passed away, leaving a void in our lives that even sarcasm couldn't fill. The old man had been more than just a teacher; he was like a father to Orphie and a damn good friend to me. When he passed, Orphie didn't just inherit his magic and responsibilities—he inherited the weight of the world on his shoulders.
"Guess it's just us now, huh?" Orphie said one evening, staring at the stars.
I was quiet for a moment. "Yeah... just us. You think you can handle the whole 'legendary mage' thing without him?"
He snorted. "With you around? Not a chance."
We both knew things had changed. Orphie had become the master, the mentor to others, and the responsibility of guiding the next generation was now his—or, well, ours. But damn, it wasn't easy.
"Remember when we were kids and thought becoming the greatest mage in the world would be fun?" I said.
He smirked. "Yeah. We were idiots."
As his successor, Orphie did his best to honor his master's legacy. He'd go on grand missions, solve magical crises, and train apprentices who looked up to him as if he were some kind of legend. And in a way, he was. But to me, he was still just Orphie—the guy who used to trip over his own robes and couldn't cast a basic shield spell without me teasing him for hours.
"Think the old man would be proud?" he asked me one night, after a particularly tough day of training the next batch of students.
I sighed. "He'd be proud of you, yeah. Me? Probably not so much. But hey, we turned out alright."
We both laughed, but there was a bittersweetness to it. Time was catching up with us. The carefree days of pranks and endless missions were giving way to something more serious. We were the ones people looked to for answers now, the ones who had to protect others. It was no longer just about us—it was about the legacy we were building, together.