It was already late december,
The crowded slum glowed warmly under decorative lanterns and gas street lamps.
It should've been a brick-tiled street but looked more like a haphazard market-place that was squeezed along a narrow passage. This place seemed to evoke those early vintage, Victorian vibes.
Sounds of horse pulled carriages merged with the roar of prices and loud chatter. Surrounding the streets were buildings that rose no taller than three-stories, their roofs being a black cone that ascended into the starry night sky. This was a slum of peasants and workers, situated far away from noble households.
But beneath the endless hustle, in a deep dark alley and beside a fly filled dumpster, the ragged clothes stank of spoilt milk and guts. His dark hair was a lump of trash juice and a heaven to lice. Bones poked out like thorns from his pale skin, his body being a malnourished heap of flesh. In his hands were thirteen coins that held faces of previous monarchs along with sharp designs of leaves and some wild flowers.
The boy's name was Xane Foster.
At this time, Xane could hear bargain and heavy shouting adjacent to him where the soft orange glow of the market reached the alley. He could also see hurried feet and shadows on the shallow mirror like puddles. With time, these noises grew louder and vulgar. Soon, a rotten watermelon was flung back to the dumpster. It rolled towards Xane and stopped beside his worn out rubber boots.
This particular alley had a bakery just to the other side, subsequently providing warmth via heat transfer through metal like chimneys.
Thus, he treated this place as a residence.
He soon devoured the rotten fruit. What other choice did he have? Starve? His body lacked sustenance for the past two days!
A while later, strangely, his vision shifted.
Colors bled out of sight leaving just darkened shades of red. He stood up, with hands rubbing over the eyelids, blinking continuously as excruciating pain soared through his cranium.
It wasn't the first time he'd experienced such a thing, though. In fact, he was accustomed to these so-called 'seizures'. Only difference this time being it wouldn't wear off like it used to. Being just sixteen, he wasn't quite able to tolerate such pain.
"Ugh- why now?", he uttered in agony.
"...anyway, I better make the purchase. That
shitty angel would soon pay me up for the
year, so it's not like I'll be at a huge loss."
Thinking of this and with a firm palm pressing the side of his aching skull, he looked around the alley as if a shop might appear before him if he waited long enough. Evidently, it hadn't. Did he realise that he'd have to venture forth and find whatever he intends to buy. This time, he pictured beyond, now to purchase lock-pic gear and a guide book as an investment. With this, he could use stolen goods as a barter.
An aspiring burglar!
He stepped out the alley and slithered through the busy streets, his eyes gleaming with determination and resolve!
...
On what appeared to be a porch, Xane stood parallel to a locked front door of an abandoned mansion-like house. It took him two hours to find and purchase some thin copper tools.
As for the book, Xane didn't know how to read or write.
Thus, he began to probe into a brass-plated handle blindly without any clue to what he was supposed to do. The sound produced made him feel anxious yet grounded.
The possibilities were endless!
This wooden door was thick and had intricate carvings of lavender and bamboo plants all over. After a short while, his first house-break didn't appear too promising...
"Damn it.. it's harder than I thought. No
wonder there aren't many lock-pickers,
Shit!"
Warm spray of mist escaped through Xane's stuttering jaw as he could only wrestle with the lock handle with little hope. What's worse, his palms were shivering, thereby tampering with his ability of precision. This was the coldest winter yet!
"I spent ten coins! Pfft... I should've
considered my situation before making such
a gamble! What a waste.."
Unfortunately for him, the headache had also worsened. His eyes were blood red as feelings of nausea flushed through him. He held an adjacent pillar for support, a strange pressure gradually blooming under his skull.
What kind of seizure is this?
"Everything is so dark... I can't see! I can't
see!.. what the shi..ahh Shit!"
As he groaned, his conscience went numb.
Soon, his delicate shoulder hit the slightly damp marble floor. Then, with a soft sigh, his beautiful crimson eyes closed shut.
He actually suffered a literal stroke!
...
The old king (Louis III) woke up in a haste.
Almost immediately, confusion and paranoia took over him. Hadn't he just died a few breaths ago after a familial betrayal?
Is this heaven?
His eyes sharpened into focus, seeing that
there was a dark wooden ceiling above him with an unlit bronze chandelier. He found himself lying on a cold and rigid marble floor, the air carrying a scent of rot and metal.
Just as his senses seeped through, an excruciating pain ran between the two hemispheres of his brain.
This pain wasn't constant, but pulsated like a heartbeat. It wasn't that painful, yet.
After a while, he looked at both his hands and found they lacked their familiar wrinkles. He also felt quite energetic and more aware..
Clumsily, he made his way over to a glass window just adjacent to the huge front door.
"This..."
In the glass, he could partially see the interior of this mansion, but could also see a faint reflection of some boy with sticky dark hair, patched-up clothes with stitches all over. The boy had crimson red eyes, a pale bony face and dried flaky lips.
This wasn't him!
Heavens had given the old king (Louis III) a second chance to reclaim his throne, or perhaps that's what he'd rather believe than stay confused by this strange situation. Thus, he didn't question it further.
As he inspected himself, his gaze naturally drifted to the lock-pics that were scattered over the open porch-,
"Reincarnation as a lock-picker? Not quite
within my expectations. I'm intrigued
nonetheless.." -he remarked indifferently.
A strange weight pulled his shirt's pocket, creasing it slightly. These were the last remaining copper/silver coins Xane had.
The coin's appearance confirmed that 'he'
(Louis III), was still somewhere within his own kingdom.
Not all questions had answers, though.
For example, he couldn't tell what the current year is or his name after reincarnation.
These were the least of his worries as the usual 'seizures' had become unbearable, throbbing fiercely. Dizziness and darkened vision also persisted. But somehow, with some miraculous will, he still managed a thin string to consciousness!
It certainly won't be satisfactory nor safe to assume this porch as a home. Even just one night at a local motel costs 11 coins, this too not including the price of food, drinks, or any particular services!
As for Xane's current situation, he only has three copper/silver coins left, and waiting for the "Angel's" subsides isn't practical either. Any rational person in this situation would have food, shelter or clothing as their priority.
Louis III, however-
"A pistol might just be ten golds I believe-"
One gold coin is equivalent to a thousand copper/silver coins. Of course, he couldn't just purchase a pistol like bakery items. Even if finance wasn't an issue, possession of such weapons is illegal in this kingdom.
Ironically, he himself proposed this law back during the time of his reign..
The headache subsided. Considering his extremely tired and sleepless state, he desperately needed rest.
Unfortunately, he never retrieved Xane's memories after reincarnation, naturally being oblivious to that warm alley's existence.
Standing alone on a random porch with minimal lighting at midnight, he could feel a strange sense of isolation.
"But out of all places, I was reincarnated here? ...how interesting "
As he was thinking of this, suddenly, someone called out to him in a soft and delicate tone. Xane couldn't see them properly as their figure was masked behind the endless glow of those weird, orange street lamps~
"..ha-hey, bu-brother Xane, you're here. I..I
wa, was looking fu-for you all this time..."