Awakening as Ragga
Somewhere, at some point, Joon's consciousness simply faded into darkness, only to be pulled out of it by the overpowering brightness of the place that warmed and soothed him. While he was blinking his eyes in quick succession to adjust to where he was, it was just unreasonable that there was a beautifully decorated ceiling above him. with all sorts of golden patterns and fluid designs that demonstrated riches and stunningness inhabiting it. He swung his head to his side and felt gloriously confused as he took in the decadence around him. This is no longer the dirty house they had lived in for years.
"No… this can't be…" he mumbles and shakes his head. His hands went to his face and he noticed that his skin was smooth and soft. He had grown used to angry wrinkles and dry skin that were criss-crossed on surfaces that scrunched up at regular intervals. In a fit of panic, he quickly tried to rise, only to find the soft lace sheets insidiously clinging to him as if he were a man possessed.
"Where am i?"
As soon as he sat up and tried to get his bearings, his feet got wet on snuggly carpet. It was embarrassing and yet thrilling. He looked down at himself: he was small but muscled, dressed in hug-me-tight silk pajamas that ran beautifull- y along the curves of his body. Cursing through his thoughts, he muttered again, to himself, 'What the hell happened to me?'
All of a sudden, the recollections started to come back…his old self, his former passion for the television show "King of Milfs" and the fall. It sunk in unnervingly fast: he had finally gone back to whom he used to be. For reasons unknown to him, the ugly, pathetic Joon does not exist anymore; the mantle of Joon was tenderly wore by Ragga van Elson, the young heir of the Elson family.
"Ragga…" he said, tasting the syllables. And that was the name bestowed upon him, a name reeking of entitlement. Yet a part of that entitlement also came with, perhaps, consequences. It wasn't pleasant. Too many people know what happened next in the story that he had once consumed. Joon was supposed to die, the handsome conniving villain that everyone hated. Somewhere farther along, Ragga was supposed to die. It was a major side note. The sadistically handsome secondary tier character would be foolish until the cruel verdict of the fate was aimed at him.
'No! No! No! That can't be allowed!' This aroused the what it can, and he even imagined that scenario. He had read the novel for 28 years and did not miss out on even a single detail, twist or character's history. So he knew what was the next step; he understood what Ragga would decide. Yet, this time, there was a possibility to change the story. There was a chance to take advantage and write the other side of the tale.
Getting up on receiving a praise for his new achievement Joon straightened his back and turned to look at the gilded mirror placed in one of the corners of the room. The mirror reflected a tall, handsome amp; young man with ripped abs, disheveled hair and sparkling blue eyes that radiated whimsical charm. It was a body that attracted attention and with it, the rush of self-assurance was definitely beginning to take over him.
He walked into the luxury washroom and marble top tables with complicated faucets only made the affluence more evident. "Wow, this can't be true as in a movie!" He said as he soaked his face with water in order to cool it down."
But as he looked over his conveniences in the mirror, images of the gorgeous milfs he craved in the previous life occupied him. They were tendencies that made these memorable women, each containing rich depths. He remembered their narratives that included an attachment to the avatar of a hero who, in the end, had all their women.
Abruptly, a soft knock brought him back into the present. "Young Master Ragga can you hear me? Are you awake?" a gentle sweet voice came from the other side of the door.
"Oh, yes! Wait a minute!" he faltered, nervous energy flooding his senses. His mind raced to understand what was going on, why it was that a young master was being called. But the control that he had over himself suddenly seemed to evaporate, and he whipped the door open and was confronted with a pretty maid beaming a smile at him, with long hair.
"Good morning Young Master Ragga!" It's time for breakfast," she said with a twinkle in her eyes that one could only wish for. "I fixed you a large meal as it is your favorite."
When she stepped aside to allow him pass, Joon felt the race of his heart. Finally, this was it- the commencement of the new life. He was finally able to experience the things he could only fantasize about. "Thank you… uh…"
"Lila," she offered helpfully, her tone delicious in its gentleness. "I'm really happy to be at your service, Young Master."
"Right, Lila," he said in an attempt to retain some of his frosty demeanor. "Come along."