"The Arenox hadn't shown any signs of life in the last 900 years. But why now?"
In the middle of an opulent hall, a man sat on a chair, leisurely holding an intricately designed mirror with golden rims in his arms.
He had long silver hair that swayed gently even with the light winds, and sharp silver eyes that seemed almost lifeless.
His complexion was abnormally pale, and his body was thin, like he had been starved for days, if not weeks.
The man looked more like a corpse than a normal human being, but his voice was soft and pleasing to the ears.
He lifted the mirror from his arms and analyzed it more.
"It's not calming down." He traced his fingers across the mirror, lost in his thoughts, "What could this mean?"
The cause of his concern was not unfounded either.
The mirror, Arenox, had been dormant for the entirety of the recorded history he knew, but ever since the last night, Arenox had been visually trembling, as if yearning for something or someone.
Knock! Knock!
"Come in!" The silver-haired man woke up from his stupor and looked towards the heavy door opposite the window.
"Your grace, I have a piece of news that might interest you." A butler came in, bowing down in front of the silver-haired man.
The man just nodded at his butler, giving his permission to proceed.
"The Pale Prince's grave was robbed last night, and nobody has any clue about this."
The entire atmosphere was eerily silent after the butler announced this piece of news.
"Remiel's grave was robbed?" The silver-haired man asked, his face showing emotion for the first time in a long while.
"Yes, your grace." The butler affirmed what he had just said, making the man crease his brows.
"Hmm!" He bobbed his head, giving the butler permission to leave, which he followed.
'I see.' The man, now alone, connected the dots instantly and realized why Arenox had been so active since the last night.
'Could it be…?' Suddenly, a thought came to his mind, sending chills down his spine.
He bit on his thumb, and the ends of his mouth curled up in a rare grin.
His heart couldn't help but fasten, as a weird sense of exhilaration rushed through his entire body, making him shiver.
He immediately stood up and rotated the mirror in all directions, and sure enough, his guesses were correct.
His grin widened, his eyes shone with life, and his heart beat quickened as he muttered under his breath.
"Arenox yearns for its owner."
…
Remiel was walking, searching for food, when he suddenly came across a random storefront with a glass wall, where he saw a reflection.
Seeing the reflection, he froze on the spot, his pupils dilated as a drop of sweat rolled down his forehead.
There was a man in the reflections that looked nothing like Remiel.
The image had long, golden-blond hair, slightly curly and flowing naturally in the wind.
His eyes were abnormally gray and deeper than the deepest pits he had seen. This, paired with a handsome and innocent-looking face, made him look completely different from his previous appearance.
He also noticed that he was a bit taller than before, around a few inches taller, which made him look a bit more attractive.
'Is that… me?' His face tightened in thought when he saw the reflection.
It made him subconsciously walk closer to the storefront and slowly raise his hands towards the glass.
He bit his lips hard, making them bleed, just to confirm he wasn't dreaming.
His heart started beating out of his chest, but he didn't let it cloud his thought process, as he racked his brain at full power.
'I don't look anything like myself.' His feet nearly gave up, but his face never let anything show up, as if he were a statue. 'No wonder the officer didn't recognize me.'
Did the resurrection have some problems?
Did someone else mess this up in between?
How did his hair change colors?
Had he possessed someone else's body?
Was he even himself anymore?
A plethora of questions flooded his mind, his jaw tightening from the headache as he tried finding answers for them.
He was pretty sure he was himself at this moment.
He could remember everything about his 21 years of life.
From the time when he was happy, sad, angry, scared, disgusted, surprised, heartbroken, and so on.
He could still vividly remember the time when he started his training at a very young age, and also the time when he ascended to being a titan.
He was still Remiel St. Clair, the third prince of the Solstice Empire, the strongest exalt of his era.
He took in a deep breath and exhaled to calm himself down, trying to recover from the shock, but as expected, it wasn't easy to do so.
It was very heavy to digest, and his mind was already full of stuff from the other things that had happened the night before.
It felt like someone was making him go through days of mental agony every minute, making it hard for him to control his facial expressions in front of everyone.
But soon, a strange rumbling sound coming from his belly pulled him out of his daze, making him aware of his surroundings once again.
He noticed that the store owner was staring at him, wondering what he wanted, which made Remiel feel a bit awkward.
This was very out of habit for him, since he never let himself be this open and vulnerable.
'Damn this resurrection!' Remiel awkwardly walked away, resuming his hunt for food once again.
As he walked further, he watched all kinds of street stalls with different kinds of unknown, yet mouth-watering food being cooked.
But having no money, there was nothing he could do but watch.
'I should get a job.' Remiel set another goal for himself, barely holding himself back from pouncing on the food.
The pride of a royalty was the only thing saving him from acting rashly in this state of extreme hunger.
Suddenly, his instincts blared to his entire being as he heard a voice behind him.
"Good night, Mr. Callastre."
Thud!