The air in the laboratory was thick with the scent of chemicals—ethanol, dried herbs, and a tinge of something acrid that Elias Valtor had long since learned to ignore. His gloved hands worked with surgical precision, carefully extracting the last drop of liquid gold from the distillation coil into a vial. Around him, a myriad of test tubes, beakers, and delicate instruments gleamed under the sterile white light of the lab.
"This is it," Elias murmured to himself, eyes alight with the fire of discovery. His voice, rough from sleepless nights, carried an excitement he could not suppress.
The compound in his hands was more than just another experimental formula—it was a revolution. A cure for the lethal Arterial Necrosis Syndrome (ANS), a disease that had plagued humanity for centuries, causing rapid decay of blood vessels and certain death within weeks. Despite countless researchers' efforts, no one had come close to a cure. Until now.
He adjusted his glasses, double-checking the molecular composition on his terminal screen. The solution he had created was derived from a combination of rare fungi, synthetic proteins, and an innovative stabilization method that prevented the rapid degradation of the active compound. A medical miracle.
Elias exhaled deeply, feeling the weight of years of relentless research lifting from his shoulders. He was about to change the world.
A sudden buzz from his communicator pulled him from his thoughts. His assistant, Dr. Claire Moreau, appeared on the screen, her face a mixture of exhaustion and anticipation.
"Elias, tell me you've got something."
He smirked, holding up the vial. "Not just something. The answer."
Her eyes widened. "You finally cracked the formula?"
"I ran five trials. Every single one showed a 100% success rate in the simulations. This is it, Claire. We've won."
Claire let out a breathless laugh. "Elias, do you have any idea what this means? This is—"
Before she could finish, the security alarm blared throughout the facility. Red warning lights bathed the room in a sinister glow. Elias's stomach twisted with an instinctive sense of dread.
"What the—?"
The screen crackled. "There's been a breach in the storage bay!" Claire's voice was frantic now. "We need to—"
A deafening explosion cut her off.
A shockwave tore through the lab, shattering glass, sending vials and delicate instruments flying. Flames erupted as chemical compounds ignited in a chain reaction. The force of the blast hurled Elias backward, his head striking the cold steel counter behind him. Pain exploded in his skull, but it was nothing compared to the searing heat that consumed the room.
Through the haze of fire and smoke, he saw the vial of his life's work slipping from his grasp, shattering against the floor. The golden liquid within hissed as it met the flames, burning away into nothing.
"No…"
His vision blurred. The edges of his consciousness darkened. The last thing he heard was the roar of the inferno before everything went black.
Elias awoke with a gasp.
The scent of smoke and burning chemicals was gone, replaced by the delicate fragrance of lavender and aged wood. His body, which moments ago had been wracked with pain, now felt strangely light. Too light.
Golden sunlight filtered through heavy crimson curtains, casting warm patterns over the vast canopy bed he found himself lying in. The fabric beneath his hands was impossibly soft, silk embroidered with golden thread.
His breath hitched. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
His fingers trembled as he lifted them to his face. No burns. No wounds. He ran a hand through his hair—and froze. It was longer, softer, different.
Heart pounding, he forced himself upright, his head swimming with unfamiliar sensations.
The room around him was nothing like his sterile, modern laboratory. Dark mahogany furniture, ornately carved, filled the space. A grand chandelier hung from the high ceiling, its crystals catching the light. Tapestries depicting hunting scenes and noble coats of arms adorned the stone walls.
"This… isn't possible," he muttered.
The words that left his mouth weren't in his native language, but he understood them perfectly. A creeping sense of horror crawled through him. He swung his legs over the bed and nearly collapsed as he caught sight of himself in a full-length mirror across the room.
The reflection that stared back at him wasn't Elias Valtor.
It was a boy—perhaps fifteen, with pale skin, striking silver hair, and piercing violet eyes. He was thin, almost sickly, dressed in fine but outdated noble attire. He looked nothing like the man he had been.
Panic surged through him, his analytical mind struggling to rationalize the impossible. Had he been drugged? Was this a simulation? A dream?
Just then, the heavy oak doors creaked open. A middle-aged man with graying hair and a weary expression stepped inside. His sharp, noble features softened with relief as he met Elias's gaze.
"My lord, you're awake!" the man exclaimed, his voice thick with emotion. "You've been unconscious for days! The physician feared the worst."
Elias opened his mouth, hesitated, then spoke. "Who… am I?"
The man's expression darkened. "My lord, you must still be weak. You are Alexander Aragon, heir to House Aragon, Duke of Velmoria's western territories."
Duke? Heir? None of this made sense.
Memories—not his own—began to flood his mind. Fading images of a failing noble house, whispers of political ruin, the frail body of a young man whose soul he now occupied. The weight of an entire lineage pressed down on him.
His hands clenched into fists.
He had died. His work, his discoveries—gone. But he was alive again, in a new world, in a body that was not his own.
Elias Valtor, world-renowned pharmacist, was gone.
But Duke Alexander Aragon had just begun his journey.
And he would not let this second life go to waste.