Alexander sighed for the third time that day. He was sitting behind his desk, lost in the monotony of the numbers scrolling across his screen. The steady clatter of keyboards, the dull conversations of his coworkers—all of it blended into a background noise he no longer even heard.
He glanced at the clock on the wall.
It was 5:47 p.m.
The minutes dragged on with unbearable slowness.
How long had he felt like this? Trapped in an endless cycle where every day looked the same as the one before, like an infinite loop.
Alexander's only escape? The web novels he devoured each evening. They were his only true outlet.
And he had a favorite among them all: Crimson Saga.
In that novel, the protagonist was the perfect embodiment of the anti-hero in all his glory. Alexander had grown attached to this sinister character with his overblown ego. He found him daring and truly free… everything Alexander himself was not.
If only…
"Alex! We're closing!" a voice suddenly called across the open space.
Alexander flinched slightly, shattering his daydream. It was his coworker from the next desk, already shutting down his computer with a smirk.
"Still got your head in those web-whatever things?"
"Yeah… well, you know, the numbers…"
He shut down his computer with another sigh, grabbed his jacket, and walked out of the office.
The night air bit at him instantly, forcing him to shove his hands deep into his pockets. As he walked along the lamplit streets, he drifted into his thoughts.
He gave a bitter smile. It was ridiculous. No one could really escape their dull reality.
But the truth was unchanging and cruel.
"Watch out!"
As he crossed the street, lost in his impossible dreams, Alexander hadn't noticed the car speeding straight toward him.
The shout snapped him back to reality.
But it was too late.
A flash of light, a burst of pain, and Alexander's world vanished.
---
What should one expect after death?
A white light, perhaps? Or the pitch-black void of unconsciousness?
Whatever it was, what Alexander saw left him speechless.
He was in a luxurious bedroom, draped with crimson velvet curtains and crowned by a great crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling.
This is death?
That was Alexander's first thought.
He lay on a canopy bed with immaculate sheets and soft pillows.
If this was death, Alexander regretted not dying sooner. In truth, he would have killed himself earlier for this.
But as his eyes swept across the room, he noticed something strange. Subtle, yet at the same time glaringly obvious.
To be sure, he sat up, leaning against the bedframe. Then he began feeling his body—or what could still be called a body.
Panic seized him. He stood up and hurried toward the massive mirror at the far end of the room. And that was when it struck him.
The mirror reflected an image.
An image that wasn't his.
He stepped closer.
His black hair and tired eyes were gone. In their place, a young face stared back at him. Long brown hair, cold blue eyes, and an upright, imposing frame…
He turned his head right, then left, his new brown hair swaying fluidly with the movement. With an uncertain gesture, he touched his smooth cheeks, his lips, then raised his arms before him, turning his hands over to examine them from every angle.
"How…?"
He took a step back.
Alexander ran his fingers over his shoulders, down his arms. His heart pounded, but not from fear. No, it was something else.
Exhilaration…
A dream? The touch, the sensations—everything felt far too real for this to be an illusion.
He ran his hands through his hair, surprised by its silky texture, then spun quickly, turning left, then right. The sheer control he had over this new body was intoxicating. Nothing like the Alexander he had once been.
A smirk crept across his lips.
To Alexander, it was obvious: he had been reincarnated. Any bookworm would have figured it out.
He cast another glance around the room. Everything reeked of luxury. The heavy drapes, the dark polished wood furniture, the scented candles scattered about…
"Okay…"
He pressed a hand to his chest, trying to anchor himself in reality.
He walked to a huge window with gleaming panes and slowly pulled back the curtain. Outside, sprawling gardens stretched as far as the eye could see. The sky was a flawless blue, not a single cloud in sight.
"Where… am I?"
He turned back to the mirror and studied his face once more. This wasn't just some random extra, no way! This body looked like it belonged to someone important. The build, the presence… maybe even a noble, or a king?
A faint sound behind him made him jump. He spun around, tense.
A door at the far end of the room had just opened, and in walked an elderly man dressed in a black-and-white uniform. His gray hair was perfectly combed back, and his wrinkled but kindly face brightened with a warm smile.
"Young master." He bowed respectfully. "Dinner is ready. Shall I escort you?"
Alexander opened his mouth, but no words came out.
Young master?
Was he really a noble in this new world? A prince, perhaps?
He cleared his throat, trying to mask his unease.
"Lead the way."
"Very well. But first…" The butler clapped his hands elegantly. "You must be presentable."
Almost immediately, a small troupe of maids in neat uniforms filed into the room, all bowing in unison.
Alexander stood dumbstruck, at a loss for words.
One of the maids, a young woman with her blonde hair tied back, stepped forward timidly.
"Young master, we are here to prepare you. If you will allow us…"
Alexander gave a silent nod.
The maids moved at once. They approached him, politely gesturing toward the adjoining chamber that served as a bath.
He let himself be guided.
I guess I'll have to get used to this…