Leon awoke to an unfamiliar sensation of softness. His eyelids fluttered open to reveal an ornate ceiling painted with delicate golden patterns. He sat up abruptly, his body protesting with a weakness he hadn't felt since childhood. The room was elegant, with furniture carved from dark wood, luxurious tapestries adorning the walls, and a faint scent of lavender in the air. It was far from the gritty, rundown places he was used to.
Before he could make sense of his surroundings, a woman in a maid's uniform rushed to his side, her eyes wide with concern. "Young Master Leon! You mustn't move too quickly. Your health is still delicate."
Young Master? Health? Delicate? These words were foreign to Leon, who had always been a picture of robust strength. His brow furrowed, and he asked the maid to fetch a mirror. When she returned with one, Leon's breath caught in his throat as he stared at the reflection.
Gone was his bulky, rugged frame. Instead, he saw a thin young man, with pale skin, delicate features, and tousled brown hair. His eyes—still the same deep turquoise—were the only familiar part of his appearance. The boy he saw in the mirror looked fragile, as though a strong breeze might knock him over.
Just then, the door burst open, and a tall, handsome young man with sun-kissed blonde hair strode into the room, wearing a military uniform adorned with golden embroidery. "Leon! I heard you collapsed in the greenhouse. What were you thinking? You know how frail your body is," the man scolded, though his tone was laced with concern.
The moment Leon saw the man, recognition struck like a lightning bolt. It was Bjorn, the prideful older brother from Love in the Moonlight. Leon had devoured every page of the novel, admiring Bjorn's fierce devotion and warrior spirit, even if his pride often clouded his judgment. But now, seeing him in the flesh, it was overwhelming.
Leon's mind raced as he pieced together what had happened. Somehow, he had been reborn into the body of the sickly younger brother from the novel he had been reading. The problem was that the story had already reached its conclusion in the book, rendering his knowledge of future events almost useless.