Felloro itself was no ordinary city. It was a vibrant, chaotic hub of activity.
The streets were always alive with cultivators rushing about, their robes swishing as they moved from one transaction to the next.
Traders haggled over rare beast eggs, neggociating prices in hushed tones, while merchants offered exotic potions and artifacts. The whole city buzzling with energy, like a beehive teeming with opportunity, greed, and power.
"And you, Young Master. They call you trash. A useless young master, a disgrace to one of the most respected families in the city."
Her words cut deep, by the sharpness of her tongue.
She leaned forward slightly, her robe parting just enough to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of her collarbone and the delicate curve of her neck.
"The Rosani family, despite their wealth and influence, couldn't save you from the ridicule of Felloro City," she continued, her voice now laced with mockery.
"The Rosani family," she said, her tone softening slightly, "has ruled over a portion of Felloro for generations. They are known for their unparalleled beast-taming techniques and their collection of rare and powerful spirit beasts."
"Yet despite all their efforts, they couldn't make you into anything other than a laughingstock."
I clenched my fists, anger bubbling beneath my skin.
Shit. That was way too depressing. And what's with her? She looks like an innocent flower on the surface, yet her tongue is sharper than a blade!
Every word she spits feels like a mix of mockery and pity—like pouring salt into an open wound and then laughing about it.
I mean, what did I even do to deserve this? Oh, wait… Let me process everything she just told me.
My name is Aditya Rosani, and hers is Meiyara, my personal maid. Apparently, I'm not in my world anymore.
No. I've been transmigrated—yes, like one of those cliché light novels—but into a goddamn cultivation world? Heh, that's a joke, right? Please tell me it's a joke.
But hold on… I've had this strange feeling since I woke up. My hands, my skin… why do they look so young?
My palms are smooth like polished jade, and my body feels unnaturally light, almost like a feather caught in the spring breeze. This… isn't normal.
With growing suspicion, I looked down at my body again, my brows furrowing deeper. No scars. No calluses. No sign of the rough life I used to live.
My skin—once weathered like old leather—is now a creamy white, almost glowing under the soft light in the room.
"Heh… No way," I muttered, a nervous chuckle slipping from my lips.
My throat tightened as I voiced the terrifying possibility, "Am I really transmigrated… into some damned cultivation world? And as a trash character, no less?"
I needed answers. Now.
"Could you bring me a mirror?" I asked Meiyara sitting across from me, my voice as calm as I could manage.
Her eyebrows arched slightly in confusion, but she got up gracefully.
When she returned, she handed me the mirror with a look of curiosity, her slender fingers brushing against mine.
Taking the mirror, I hesitated. My reflection stared back at me.
...
And then, I froze.
"Fucking shit…"
What I saw wasn't me. At least, not the me I remembered. The face in the mirror belonged to someone who could walk into any room and leave it breathless.
My hair was midnight black, like the endless void of a starless night, falling in silky waves that framed my sharp, angular face.
My eyes—no, his eyes?—glowed like molten rubies, brimming with a cold, almost devilish allure that made me lean closer, half expecting them to burn.
My skin… it was porcelain pale, smooth, and flawless. High cheekbones, a jawline so sharp it could cut through steel, and thin lips that naturally curved into the faintest smirk.
I wasn't just handsome—I was devastatingly, sinfully beautiful. The kind of beauty that made beauties in my world fall and hearts race.
"Whoa." I whispered, barely able to tear my gaze away. "So this is what it's like to be a walking goddamn masterpiece."
My disbelief must've shown on my face because the Meiyara—still standing by the table—let out a soft giggle. Her delicate features lit up, her almond-shaped eyes crinkling with amusement.
"Oh, so you've finally realized you're handsome?" she teased, her voice honeyed yet playful. "Though I must say, you look quite ridiculous gawking at yourself like that, young master."
"So," I began, my voice laced with equal parts confusion and curiosity. "Tell me —how exactly did I end up getting mauled by some damn bull beast?"
"You forgot that too?" she asked, her voice honeyed but dripping with disbelief. Her gaze swept over me, starting at my disheveled hair and lingering on the faint bruises peeking out from my tattered robes.
Her expression shifted then—a mix of pity and disdain as she recalling her memories.
"Yes, again!" I muttered under my breath. Hah! If I had a gold coin for every time she looked at me like that, I'd be swimming in riches. Still, I nodded, gesturing for her to continue.
"Fine," she sighed, leaning back, her posture unintentionally—or maybe intentionally—accentuating her figure.
(2 days Ago)
(Spring Flower Restaurant)
The dim glow of lanterns bathed the Spring Flower Restaurant in a soft, golden hue. Shadows danced across the polished wooden floors, while the aroma of spiced wine and sizzling meat wafted through the air.
In one corner of this bustling establishment sat Aditya Rosani, his head bowed low over a jug of wine.
His long, tangled hair framed a face marked by frustration and bitterness, the faint shadow of stubble on his jaw adding to the ruggedness of his defeated appearance.
The flickering candlelight cast soft shadows across his features, highlighting the weariness etched into his expression.
Across from him, Ellaya Uvalo, the young miss of the revered Uvalo family, sat poised with a mix of concern and a hint of worry.
Her jade-green dress hugged her figure, the intricate embroidery on her sleeves catching the soft lamplight with each movement.
Her raven-black hair flowed down her back like a silk waterfall. Her crimson lips were pursed, her eyes narrowed slightly.
"Don't be so down, Aditya," she said, her voice a melodic blend of empathy and exasperation.
"I'm sure you'll soon be able to tame a beast."
Aditya's response was a bitter laugh, the sound escaping his lips in a dry, hollow way. His fingers clenched around the clay jug, his knuckles turning white as if it were the only thing keeping him tethered to the moment.
"It's not like it's my fault," he muttered, his voice laced with self-loathing.
"I've done everything my father taught me, followed every damned step in those manuals. But the beasts..."
His voice faltered for a moment, as if even the mention of his failures stung. "They don't just refuse me; they try to tear me apart. I can't even get close to one, let alone tame it."
Ellaya tilted her head, the soft candlelight catching the curve of her neck and the faint shimmer of sweat glistening on her skin. She reached out, her slender fingers lightly brushing his forearm.
"You're being too hard on yourself," Ellaya said, her voice softening with concern. She gently reached out, placing a hand on his arm in an attempt to comfort him.
"What if you can't cultivate? There's more to life than that. Focus on your family's business. Live as an ordinary mortal."
Her words were kind, but they struck a chord deep within him.
Aditya snapped his head up, his dark eyes burning with a mix of anger and desperation. "You don't understand," he said through gritted teeth.
"Without cultivation, I'm nothing. I can't protect the family business. They're already circling, waiting for me to fail so they can rip the Patriarch position from my father. Without power, I'm just an ant waiting to be crushed."
"Sigh!"
Ellaya's heart ached at the intensity of his words. She saw the pain behind his harsh exterior, the fear of helplessness that lingered just beneath the surface. She sighed, her expression softening as sympathy flashed across her features.
Whenever Ellaya felt down, Aditya had always been there, offering comfort and protection. They shared memories of innocent laughter and playful adventures
She truly valued their friendship. But as time passed, something had changed in Aditya. Once free-spirited and courageous, he had become a shadow of his former self.
The turning point had been when he failed to tame a beast, a moment that seemed to shatter his confidence.
And with the growing pressure from those around him, the weight of failure and expectations had twisted his heart. She couldn't help but feel the ache in her chest as she watched him struggle with himself..
Ellaya parted her lips, ready to offer him the words of comfort he needed, when suddenly, an intruding voice shattered the fragile moment.
"Ellaya!" The voice was smooth, yet there was a slight edge to it, a grating tone that left a bitter taste in the air. It oozed with overconfidence, like a snake sliding into the conversation uninvited.
Aditya's fists clenched at his sides, his anger flaring as he glanced towards the source of the voice.
The figure who approached them had a cocky, self-assured smile that seemed to stretch unnaturally across his face. His gaze flicked over to Ellaya, his eyes darkening with a predatory gleam.
"Wow, you look stunning as always," he said, his voice dripping with false charm, completely oblivious to the tension he had just caused.
His gaze lingered shamelessly on Ellaya's figure, taking in every curve with an audacity that made Aditya's grip on his jug tighten.
Ellaya's almond eyes narrowed, her lips curling in distaste. She turned her head towards him, her long lashes fluttering as she blinked in obvious annoyance.
"Don't talk to me as if we're familiar," she said coolly, her tone cutting like a blade. "And don't call me so casually."