"My dearest Heinz, I loved you. From the moment I saw you, I gave you my heart—even when you didn't want it. I endured every rejection, every cruel word, just to stay by your side. I would rather have suffered with you than lived without you. But now..."
Tears streamed down his face, his voice trembling as he choked out the words.
"If I could have one wish, it would be to have never loved you at all. Maybe then, we both could have been happy."
Aden's eyes shot open, his breath hitching as his body jolted upright. His heart raced, and an ache pounded in his skull. The vivid memory—or was it a dream?—still lingered, pressing against the edges of his mind.
'What the hell was that?' he thought, clutching his head as he tried to steady his breathing. 'Am I… back?'
His surroundings came into focus, and he realized with growing dread that he was still in the lavish, unfamiliar room he had woken up in earlier. The ornate furnishings, the blue glowing butterflies flitting about, and the faint scent of flowers confirmed his worst fears.
'It wasn't a dream,' Aden realized, a chill running down his spine.
Panic threatened to overwhelm him, but he clenched his fists and forced himself to stay calm. 'Crying won't help. If this is real, I have to figure out where I am, who I am, and what the hell is going on.'
His thoughts raced as he pieced together fragments of what had happened earlier. The doctor's "magic," the title of "Your Highness," and the fact that his reflection didn't belong to him—all of it pointed to one impossible conclusion: he was in another world.
'This is like one of those transmigration novels Kaz always raved about. I didn't even like that crap, and now here I am…'
The thought of his sister made his chest tighten. Kaz. She was alone now. He could picture her smiling face, the way she teased him about his lack of a love life, her passion for writing. Would she be okay without him?
'She's strong,' he reassured himself. 'She'll be fine. But damn it, Kaz, I need you here to tell me what the hell I'm supposed to do.'
Aden dragged himself out of the massive bed, the cool floor against his bare feet grounding him slightly. The room was enormous, far larger than the tiny two-bedroom apartment he had shared with Kaz. The walls were adorned with vibrant tapestries, and the air seemed almost alive with the faint hum of magic.
As he wandered, he noticed the glowing blue butterflies more closely. They flitted gracefully, their light casting ethereal patterns on the walls. One drifted closer, hovering just inches from his face.
"You definitely don't see that on Earth," he murmured, watching as the butterfly led him toward a tall, ornate mirror on the far side of the room.
The butterfly settled on the mirror's gilded edge, and Aden hesitated before stepping closer. His heart pounded as he stared into the reflection.
Bright green eyes stared back at him, framed by long, wavy lilac hair. His features were delicate and flawless—sharp cheekbones, a slim nose, and lips so full they looked almost painted. He reached up and touched his face, his fingertips brushing skin that felt foreign.
"What the hell?" Aden whispered. "I look… like a girl. But I'm definitely still a guy. This is—"
He cut himself off, turning his face to examine it from different angles. The beauty staring back at him was undeniable, but something about the face nagged at him.
'Why does this face feel… familiar?' he wondered, frowning.
Aden didn't have long to dwell on the thought. The door to his room creaked open, and he instinctively turned toward the sound.
Standing in the doorway was a man—a strikingly handsome man with white hair, piercing yellow eyes, and glasses that framed his dignified features. He was impeccably dressed in a tailored black suit adorned with subtle embellishments, exuding an air of authority.
'Woah,' Aden thought, momentarily stunned. He wasn't one to be flustered by a man's looks, but this one was undeniably magnetic.
"Your Highness," the man began, his deep voice smooth and controlled. "I heard about your… outburst earlier."
'And that voice? Jesus fucking Christ,' Aden thought, his jaw clenching.
"Worry not," the man continued. "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 tilted his head, studying the man's demeanor. He noticed a subtle tension, a stiffness that belied the man's composed exterior.
'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 prompted, his golden eyes narrowing slightly.
"Oh, uh… yeah. I'm sorry," Aden replied cautiously, unsure of how to address someone so formal.
The man seemed momentarily taken aback by Aden's simple response but recovered quickly. "No need to apologize to me, Your Highness. I am merely a butler and your servant. My role is to assist you and the princesses of the palace."
'Princesses?' Aden's interest piqued at the mention of women, but his enthusiasm waned as the implication sank in. 'If I'm a prince… they're probably my sisters. Damn it.'
The butler cleared his throat. "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, his confusion evident.
The butler's lips twitched slightly, a flicker of an emotion Aden couldn't decipher. "Yes. His majesty will not grant a private audience at this time."
'Not sure what he means but okay...'
"Oh. Uh, do I need to… get dressed or something?" Aden asked awkwardly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
The butler's golden eyes widened briefly in what looked like surprise, though his professional demeanor quickly masked it. He gave a small nod. "Of course. I will summon Cashew to assist you immediately. Once you are ready, I shall escort you to the throne room."
'Cashew? Like the nut?' Aden thought, his brow furrowing. 'What's next, Peanut and Almond?'
"Alright," he said aloud, his voice carrying a resigned edge.
The butler hesitated, turning to leave but stopping halfway as if reconsidering something. He glanced over his shoulder, his piercing gaze settling on Aden with what looked like a mixture of concern and curiosity.
"Your Highness," the butler began, his tone cautious, "are you… feeling alright? I was informed that your fall was quite severe. Truthfully, your behavior seems a bit…" He trailed off, catching himself before finishing the sentence. Instead, he adjusted his glasses with a measured motion and shook his head. "Never mind. I'll be waiting for you outside."
With a slight bow, the butler exited the room, the door closing softly behind him.
The moment he was gone, Aden let out a long, exasperated sigh. "What a weird guy. But damn, his looks are making me jealous. Why couldn't I have transmigrated as him?"
He shook his head, running a hand through his unfamiliar, wavy lilac hair. The silky texture and unusual color only reminded him of how out of place he felt in this body.
'That guy's got it all—sharp features, the glasses, that voice... He probably has women falling over him like dominoes. Meanwhile, I'm stuck looking like a poster boy for an androgynous perfume ad.'
Aden groaned and rubbed his temples. "What the hell am I even saying? Focus, Aden. Focus. You're in a freaking fantasy world. You need to figure out how to survive, not rate people's looks."
His eyes flicked toward the door where the butler had left moments earlier, his sharp parting words lingering in Aden's mind.
'A fall? Did the guy I'm replacing fall down the stairs or something? Is that why they think I'm acting weird?' Aden frowned. 'Great. Add "concussion" to the list of excuses I need to sell.'
He sighed again, pacing back toward the mirror. The glowing butterflies still hovered near the ornate frame, their soft light giving the room an almost dreamlike quality. He paused to glance at his reflection again, his green eyes narrowing slightly as he studied his unfamiliar features.
'Ha...I don't think I can ever get used to your face—'
Aden's thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a loud thud as the door to his room flew open. He flinched, spinning toward the source of the noise.
Standing in the doorway was the same teen from earlier—the one with blonde hair and striking purple eyes. Up close, Aden noticed how delicate the boy looked, almost doll-like. His wide, anxious eyes darted around the room before landing on Aden, and his face softened with visible relief.
The teen stepped inside quickly, though his movements were cautious, as though he were afraid of startling Aden.
"Hi," Aden said hesitantly, unsure of how to approach the situation.
The boy's lips quivered before he nodded, his expression shifting into one of near-panic as he hurried over to Aden. He seemed to be inspecting him, his eyes scanning Aden's body with meticulous care, as if checking for injuries.
'What is he doing?' Aden wondered, feeling a mix of confusion and discomfort. The boy's genuine concern was written all over his face, and his trembling hands hovered just inches away from touching Aden, as though afraid of overstepping.
"Cashew?" Aden ventured, guessing based on the butler's earlier mention of the name.
The boy's eyes widened with recognition, and he nodded vigorously, his blonde hair bouncing slightly. Aden noted how much younger Cashew looked up close—maybe fourteen or fifteen.
'He's like a nervous puppy,' Aden thought, feeling a pang of guilt as Cashew's eyes welled up with unshed tears.
"Uh, hey, I'm fine now," Aden said quickly, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "I'm sorry for worrying you earlier. I was just, um…" He trailed off, fumbling for the right words.
Cashew tilted his head, his concern giving way to mild curiosity as he waited.
"I was… in shock," Aden explained, his hands gesturing awkwardly as he tried to reassure him. "You know, from the fall and everything. Totally normal reaction, right?"
The explanation sounded weak even to Aden, but Cashew seemed to accept it—or at least, he didn't question it further. Instead, he nodded slightly, though the cautious look in his eyes didn't fade.
'Man, this kid really looks like he's about to cry,' Aden thought, scratching the back of his head. 'I'm not used to this much attention. What am I even supposed to do?'
It was then that Aden noticed Cashew's outfit. The boy was dressed in a tailored purple uniform, similar to the maids he'd seen earlier but clearly styled for a boy, with well-fitted trousers and polished boots.
'Is he my servant or something?' Aden wondered, the realization settling in as he pieced together the dynamic. 'Isn't he a little too young for that kind of job?'
Cashew finally straightened up, stepping back slightly, though his gaze remained fixed on Aden.
"So… the butler said I needed to get dressed to meet the king," Aden said cautiously. "Are you… gonna help me with that?"
Cashew blinked at him, his expression briefly shifting into surprise before he nodded again. For a moment, Aden wondered if the boy was in shock because he was sure he heard him speak the first time he woke up.
'Why isn't he saying anything? Is this normal? Or is he just scared?' Aden's thoughts raced as Cashew silently pointed toward another door on the far side of the room.
Following the direction of Cashew's gesture, Aden raised an eyebrow. "What's over there?"
Cashew didn't answer—of course—but he motioned again, more insistently this time. Taking the hint, Aden began walking toward the door, with Cashew trailing behind him like a shadow.
When Aden opened the door, his jaw dropped.
The room beyond wasn't just a closet—it was a walk-in palace. Rows upon rows of clothing stretched out before him, with luxurious fabrics of every color imaginable hanging neatly on gilded racks. Intricate accessories glittered from ornate display cases, and shelves of polished shoes lined the walls. The faint scent of cedar and lavender wafted through the air, adding to the overwhelming sense of opulence.
Aden stepped inside, turning in slow circles as he took it all in. "Holy shit," he muttered under his breath, running a hand over the nearest rack of clothing.
"Whoever I am… is really, fucking rich."