A servant quietly brought over a full-length mirror, setting it before him with care. This would be Soren's first time seeing his new face. Despite everything, he felt a flicker of excitement. In his previous life, Soren had been considered handsome—he had a youthful, expressive face often tinged with a contemplative air. His slightly downturned eyes gave him a melancholic, almost tired look, though they held a sharp intelligence. They were large, a striking shade of blue, framed by delicate dark lashes. His skin was pale with a soft, almost ethereal glow, and subtle contours gave his features depth. His lips were full and naturally tinted, usually parted slightly in a neutral expression.
His hair, a blend of dark gray and black, was stylishly unkempt—falling across his forehead in tousled strands, longer at the sides and swept just enough to feel deliberate. The uneven, wavy texture gave him a rugged charm. A small earring adorned one ear, adding a modern, rebellious touch to his otherwise dreamlike appearance.
This—this was the face he had once known, once owned. One of the many reasons he had asked Zephyr if he could keep his own face. He wasn't ready to let it go.
Soren looked into the mirror, and for a moment, he forgot to breathe.
Zephyr's face stared back at him—a delicate, almost ethereal beauty that felt more dream than real. His features were finely sculpted, his skin smooth and unblemished, glowing faintly in the soft light. His eyes were a striking blend of bright blue with a golden glimmer at the center, vivid and piercing, framed by light, well-defined brows. They held a captivating, almost otherworldly gaze that seemed to look straight through everything.
His lips were naturally full, tinted a gentle pink, slightly parted as if caught mid-thought. His hair, a shade of pale blonde bordering on white, fell in soft waves around his face. It was cut just past the ears, layered with graceful volume and a subtle, tousled elegance.
Compared to his original appearance—where his features leaned masculine with a gentle softness—this face felt different. There was an unmistakable feminine touch to it, delicate and refined, yet it retained a quiet strength and nobility. It was a strange mix of beauty and power... and Soren wasn't sure yet how to feel about wearing it.
""Damn," Soren thought, squinting at the mirror. "
"
He turned toward the waiting servants and gave a small, composed smile. "Thank you, everyone. You've prepared me well. Shall we go out now?" he asked, his voice calm but tinged with anticipation.
The servant, whose name was George, brought over the wheelchair. It was quite different from those in the 21st century—more like a plush, wheeled armchair with ornate details, almost like a moving sofa. Sophie followed closely behind as they made their way through the grand estate, eventually reaching the gates that opened into a large garden.
The garden was vibrant, surrounded by a variety of blooming flowers and well-kept plants. The air was crisp and fresh, a gentle breeze brushing through the leaves. It lifted Soren's spirits even more.
"Can we sit over there, by the daffodils?" Soren asked, pointing toward a sunny patch on the grass. "That looks like a good spot to rest. Sophie, can you place the rug there?"
"Are you sure you want to sit there, my lord? There may be insects," George asked, a little concerned.
"Yes, I want to enjoy myself today," Soren said with a soft smile. "Also, could I get some cake and fruits while I'm out here? I'd be thankful if you could bring them."
"Is it just me, or do you think something about the young master has changed?" Sophie said quietly to George as they walked behind Soren. "He seems more talkative and less angry these days. He even smiles more… though I've also seen him cry, secretly. And his food choices—he never used to like sweets."
George nodded. "You're right. He would never step outside before, let alone sit on the ground like this. Anytime someone tried to take him out, he'd scream and shout at everyone."
Soren sat quietly on the rug, letting the soft breeze brush against his face. His servant gently positioned his legs, making sure he was comfortable. He didn't say much—just sat there, taking in the view of the bright garden, the colors of the flowers, the warmth of the sun. Every now and then, he'd make a small comment to Sophie or George—something light, something simple. For the first time in a long while, he felt… at peace.
After a while, he went back inside. From that day on, his routine settled into a steady rhythm: waking up in the morning, reading several books, attending lectures from his professor, then going outside for a bit. He would chat briefly with the servants, read more books, and finally go to sleep—only to be haunted by those nightmares again.
Days passed, and it had been almost fifteen since he became Zephyr. While searching through a drawer one day, he found a peculiar page. Suddenly, he remembered—it was the same page that the original Zephyr had given him. With it came the memory of that special place where he had first met Zephyr.
At the bottom of the page was a small, intricate structure sketched in fine lines, and beneath it, a verse was written. Something clicked in Soren's mind. He quickly grabbed another blank page and a pen, carefully redrew the structure, and spoke the words aloud:
Oh, throne with throngs that never fade, where wonders brightly gleam,
A realm of boundless power stands, supreme in every dream.
Its halls of might, with glory crowned, no shadow can assail,
Eternal strength, unyielding, flows where justice shall prevail.
This sacred seat, forever strong, its noble reign shall never wane.
Soren recited the verse, his voice steady and clear.
Suddenly, his vision blurred, and darkness swallowed him whole. The page slipped from his hand as his body slumped forward.
When he opened his eyes again, the world had changed. There was nothing—no books, no room, no servants. Just endless white stretching out in every direction like a blank canvas. The air was still, the silence almost deafening.
He was back. Back in that mysterious place. The void where he had first met Zephyr.