Night had fallen, and the lights of the city that never slept glowed like fireflies trapped in glass. The scent of money lingered thick in the air, wrapping itself around the tallest buildings like a cologne worn by the rich.
On the top floor of one such tower, Alex Green, age 32, sat in a sleek black suit with a crisp white tie. He stared at a glowing screen filled with complex investment data, his lips curled into a satisfied, money-drunk grin.
> "Alright, Olsen. Tell them I accept."
He signed the contract with a flourish, eyes twinkling with greed. He had just merged his company with a European financial giant. The deal?
1.5 billion dollars.
It was a move born from sheer greed, but Alex didn't care. He had enough to retire to a private island and never look back at the city again.
A staff member walked in, holding a black envelope.
> "Sir, the transfer has gone through. Full amount: 1.5 billion."
Alex's eyes sparkled. He chuckled.
> "Hehehe. Send my mistress a bouquet. Tell her, 'The deal's done. Let's do what we agreed.'"
The worker left. Only Alex and his assistant Olsen remained.
> "Olsen, I'll take a nap. Wake me in half an hour."
Olsen nodded in silence.
> "Hehehe... The island awaits."
Alex leaned back, closing his eyes with a smug smile as darkness slowly embraced him.
But when he opened them again...
There was no screen.
No assistant.
And no Alex Green.
---
He awoke in an extravagant room—but styled from a bygone era.
Wooden ceiling, golden walls, velvet curtains, and soft silk sheets.
It was luxurious, but old-fashioned.
Alex sat up slowly, blinking. He slapped himself once. Twice.
> Not a dream.
He stumbled over to the mirror.
What he saw made him scream.
> "WHAT IS THIS?! Where's my beautiful face?! Who is this ugly bastard?!"
The man in the mirror had short black hair, a bulbous nose, crooked teeth, and a tired, pudgy face.
He collapsed to the ground in horror, tears spilling from his eyes.
> "My face... my money... my company... my life... it's all ruined."
Knock. Knock. Knock.
> "Who's there?!"
Alex wiped his face, still sniffling.
> "Young master, it's your servant."
The door opened. A man entered, eyes wide with concern at the sight of Alex sobbing on the floor.
> "Young master, what's wrong?!"
> "Who are you?!"
Alex's voice cracked.
The servant froze.
> "Young master... It's me—Silver, your personal attendant."
Alex blinked, piecing things together.
> Damn. I must have reincarnated into some noble's body.
He stood up and forced a wide, innocent smile.
> "Hahaha, Silver... I forgot my name. Can you remind me?"
The servant froze again, panic flashing in his eyes.
> Did... did he lose his mind? Or is this some weird joke?
He took a deep breath.
> "Your name is Marcus Barefield. You're the third son of one of the most powerful noble houses in the Kingdom of Aurelia."
Marcus (or rather, Alex) nearly fainted from shock.
> A noble…? Of the most powerful family in the kingdom...?
He kept smiling and said casually:
> "Of course! Just messing with you."
Silver stared at him for two full seconds.
> "Of course, young master. By the way, your father has requested your presence in his study to discuss... something."
Alex—now Marcus—nodded slowly.
> "Sure. I'll be there shortly."
Silver froze in place again.
> He... he agreed? So easily? There's definitely something wrong with the young master…
> "V-Very well, I'll inform the lord."
He quickly fled the room.
Marcus took a deep breath and sat on the bed.
> I need to figure this out. This body... its background... this family. But first, I need to meet the father.
He called for Silver again.
> "Take me to my father."
Silver appeared, more panicked than ever.
> Did he just say "father"...?! He NEVER says that...
Trying to stay calm, Silver guided Marcus to the lord's study.
They arrived at a grand, luxurious room—walls lined with gold, a ceiling painted with intricate carvings, and a polished wooden floor that creaked under their feet.
> "So, you've come, Marcus."
The voice was cold, authoritative.
> "Yes, Father."
Marcus replied with a gulp.
Meanwhile, the nobleman's thoughts raced.
> Did he just... call me "Father"?!
> "Let's not waste time. I'll get straight to the point."
The father's tone hardened, voice sharp as steel.
> "You are a disgrace to this family. And so... we've decided."
> "You are officially expelled from House Barefield."
---