'What the hell was that?' Aden groaned, clutching his head as he tried to steady his breathing. 'Am I… back?'
He blinked a few times, his surroundings coming into sharper focus. The lavish room was exactly as he'd left it—ornate furniture, blue glowing butterflies drifting lazily through the air, and that faint, floral scent that felt entirely out of place.
'It wasn't a dream,' Aden realized, dread creeping over him like a cold wave.
His heart raced, and panic clawed at the edges of his mind, but he clenched his fists and forced himself to take a deep breath. 'Crying isn't going to fix this. If this is real—and God help me, it feels real—I need to figure out where I am, who I am, and what the hell is happening.'
Bits and pieces of earlier events flashed in his mind: the doctor's "magic," being called "Your Highness," and the foreign voice that had come out of his own mouth. Add in the fact that his body felt completely alien, and the answer seemed clear—impossible, but clear.
'This is like one of those dumb transmigration novels Kaz never shut up about. I hated those things. And now look at me.'
The thought of his sister hit him like a punch to the gut. Kaz. She was alone now. He pictured her teasing him over his lack of a love life, her bright smile, her endless rants about fantasy tropes. Would she be okay without him?
'She's strong. She'll be fine. But damn it, Kaz, I need you here. You're the nerd who actually reads this stuff. What am I supposed to do?'
He dragged himself out of the massive bed, his bare feet sinking into the plush rug before meeting the cool floor. The room was ridiculously huge, easily larger than the cramped two-bedroom apartment he'd shared with Kaz. Vibrant tapestries adorned the walls, and there was a faint hum in the air—like the room itself was alive with magic.
As he wandered, his gaze landed on the glowing blue butterflies. They moved gracefully, their light casting soft, shifting patterns on the walls. One floated closer, pausing just inches from his face.
"You definitely don't see that on Earth," he muttered, watching as the butterfly flitted toward a tall, ornate mirror on the far side of the room.
The butterfly perched delicately on the mirror's gilded edge, its glow almost inviting. Aden hesitated, his stomach twisting as he stepped closer.
When he finally looked into the mirror, his breath caught.
Bright green eyes stared back at him, framed by long, wavy lilac hair. His face was almost too perfect—sharp cheekbones, a delicate nose, and lips that looked like they belonged on a magazine cover. He reached up, touching his reflection. His fingers brushed soft, unfamiliar skin.
"What the hell?" Aden whispered. "I look… like a girl. But I'm still definitely a guy. This is—"
He broke off, turning his head to examine his reflection from another angle. The beauty staring back at him was surreal, almost otherworldly. But something about the face tugged at his memory.
'Why does this face feel… familiar?' he thought, frowning.
Before he could dwell on it, the door creaked open. Aden spun around, startled, as a man stepped into the room.
The stranger was strikingly handsome, with neatly styled white hair, piercing yellow eyes, and a pair of glasses that somehow made him look even more refined. His tailored black suit was adorned with subtle embellishments, radiating authority and poise.
'Holy crap,' Aden thought, momentarily stunned. 'Who ordered this guy straight out of a high-end drama?'
"Your Highness," the man said, his deep voice smooth and calm, like velvet over steel. "I heard about your… outburst earlier."
Aden stared, trying to process both the words and the voice. 'That voice. Jesus Christ, is it illegal to sound that good?'
"Worry not," the man continued, adjusting his glasses with an air of practiced precision. "We ensured His Majesty wasn't informed. However, I must insist you refrain from such behavior in the future. His temper is not something to provoke."
Aden blinked, his jaw tightening. "Oh, great," he muttered under his breath. "Not only am I in Fantasyland, but apparently I've pissed off Fantasy Dad too."
The man raised an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon, Your Highness?"
"Nothing!" Aden blurted, forcing a nervous smile. 'Play it cool. My priority is figuring out who I am.'
Aden tilted his head, studying the man's carefully composed demeanor. There was something off—subtle tension in the butler's shoulders, a stiffness in his posture.
'He's uncomfortable,' Aden realized. 'Not scared, but… hesitant? Like he's walking on eggshells.'
"Your Highness, do you understand what I'm saying?" the man asked, his golden eyes narrowing ever so slightly.
"Oh, uh… yeah. I'm sorry," Aden replied, trying to sound princely—or at least not clueless.
The butler blinked, clearly not expecting such a straightforward response. He quickly recovered, bowing his head slightly. "There is no need to apologize, Your Highness. I am but a servant. My role is to assist you and the princesses of the palace."
'Princesses?' Aden's ears perked up at the mention of women, but his excitement fizzled out almost immediately. 'Wait. If I'm a prince… they're probably my sisters. Damn it.'
The butler cleared his throat, his tone taking on a more formal edge. "Speaking of the princesses, I came to inform you that His Majesty has summoned the harem for an audience. The princesses are already present and awaiting you."
"The harem?" Aden blurted out before he could stop himself.
For the briefest moment, the butler's lips twitched—was that amusement? No, it was gone too quickly to be sure. "Yes. His Majesty will not grant a private audience at this time."
'What does that even mean? Whatever, just roll with it.'
"Oh. Uh… do I need to get dressed or something?" Aden asked, shifting awkwardly.
The butler's golden eyes widened slightly before he schooled his features back into perfect neutrality. "Of course. I shall summon Cashew to assist you immediately. Once you are ready, I will escort you to the throne room."
Aden blinked. "Cashew? Like… the nut?"
The butler's expression didn't so much as twitch. "Cashew is one of the royal attendants, Your Highness."
'What's next? Peanut? Almond?' Aden bit back a snort, nodding instead. "Alright, sure. Cashew it is."
The butler turned to leave but hesitated midway, glancing over his shoulder. His piercing gaze lingered on Aden, his expression cautious.
"Your Highness," he began, his tone measured, "are you… still feeling unwell? I was informed your fall yesterday was rather severe. Truthfully, as the doctor mentioned, your behavior seems a bit…" He trailed off, clearly reconsidering his words. Instead, he adjusted his glasses with a practiced motion and shook his head.
"Never mind. I will be waiting for you outside."
With a slight bow, he exited, the door clicking softly shut behind him.
The moment he was gone, Aden let out a long, exasperated sigh. "What a weird guy. But seriously, how is it fair that he looks like that? Why couldn't I have transmigrated as him?"
He ran a hand through his unfamiliar lilac hair, the silky texture and unnatural color reminding him just how far from normal he was now.
"That guy's got it all—sharp features, glasses, that voice. Bet women throw themselves at him like confetti at a parade. Meanwhile, I'm stuck looking like the poster boy for an androgynous perfume ad."
He groaned, shaking his head. "What the hell am I even saying? Focus, Aden. You're in a fantasy world, not a beauty pageant. Priorities."
Still, the butler's reminder of his supposed 'fall' nagged at him. 'A fall? Is that why they think I'm acting weird? The doctor mentioned that I supposedly fell trying to climb up some columns to get...someone's attention.'
'Maybe I could use this concussion as an advantage later while I figure out what the hell is going on.' He sighed again, pacing back toward the mirror. The glowing butterflies still hovered near its frame, their soft light casting a dreamlike glow across the room. He paused, staring at his reflection again.
'I don't think I'll ever get used to this face,' he thought, frowning. 'You're too pretty to—'
A loud thud interrupted his thoughts, the door to his room flying open with a dramatic crash. Aden flinched, spinning toward the noise.
Standing in the doorway was the same boy from earlier—the one with blonde hair and striking purple eyes. Up close, Aden noticed how delicate he looked, almost doll-like.
The boy's wide, anxious eyes darted around the room before landing on Aden. His expression softened immediately, visible relief washing over his features.
The teen stepped inside cautiously, his movements deliberate, as though he feared startling Aden.
"Hi," Aden greeted hesitantly, unsure how to navigate the awkward tension.
The boy's lips quivered before he nodded, his expression tightening into one of near-panic as he hurried over. His wide purple eyes scanned Aden's body with meticulous care, his trembling hands hovering just inches from touching him, as if afraid to cross some invisible line.
'What is he doing?' Aden thought, equal parts confused and uncomfortable. Despite the odd behavior, the boy's genuine concern was evident, his anxious energy almost palpable.
"Cashew?" Aden guessed, remembering the butler's earlier mention of the name.
The boy's eyes widened in recognition, and he nodded vigorously, his blonde hair bouncing with the motion. Up close, Aden realized how young he looked—maybe fourteen, fifteen at most.
'He's like a nervous puppy,' Aden thought, guilt creeping in as he noticed the tears welling up in Cashew's eyes.
"Uh, hey, I'm fine," Aden said quickly, raising his hands in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture. "I'm sorry for worrying you earlier. I was just, uh…" He trailed off, fumbling for an excuse.
Cashew tilted his head, his concern giving way to quiet curiosity as he waited.
"I was… in shock," Aden continued, gesturing vaguely. "You know, from the fall. Totally normal reaction, right?"
Even to his own ears, the explanation sounded weak. But Cashew seemed to accept it—or at least didn't press further. He nodded, though the cautious look in his eyes lingered.
'This kid looks like he's about to cry,' Aden thought, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. 'I'm not used to this much attention. What am I even supposed to do?'
It was then that Aden noticed Cashew's outfit: a neatly tailored purple uniform, distinct yet coordinated with the maids he'd seen earlier. The polished boots and fitted trousers made it clear the boy wasn't just a servant—he was a high-ranking one.
'He's my servant, isn't he?' Aden realized. 'Isn't he a little young for this kind of job?'
Cashew finally straightened, stepping back slightly, though his watchful gaze remained fixed on Aden.
"So… the butler said I needed to get dressed to meet the king," Aden said cautiously. "Are you… supposed to help me with that?"
Cashew blinked, his expression flickering with surprise before he nodded again. Aden frowned slightly, studying him. 'I'm pretty sure I heard him talk when I woke up. Why isn't he saying anything now? Is this normal? Or is he just scared?'
Breaking the silence, Cashew pointed toward another door on the far side of the room.
"What's over there?" Aden asked, following the gesture.
Cashew didn't respond—of course—but motioned again, more insistent this time. Taking the hint, Aden crossed the room, Cashew trailing behind like a silent shadow.
When Aden opened the door, his jaw dropped.
The space beyond wasn't just a closet—it was an entire wardrobe palace.
Rows upon rows of clothing stretched out in an overwhelming display of luxury. Rich fabrics in every color imaginable hung neatly on gilded racks, while intricately designed accessories sparkled from glass display cases. Polished shelves lined the walls, each one holding perfectly arranged shoes. The faint scent of cedar and lavender hung in the air, adding an almost ethereal touch to the room.
Aden stepped inside, turning in slow circles as he took it all in. "Holy shit," he muttered, running a hand over the nearest rack. The fabric beneath his fingers was softer than anything he'd ever felt.
"Whoever I am… is really, fucking rich."