Crimson Rebirth ( GL)

I sat on the edge of the massive bed, my fingers tracing the smooth, cool fabric of the silken sheets. Everything around me was opulent, too lavish, too extravagant for me to process.

The bed itself felt like a cloud, far too soft for someone like me who had grown used to rougher edges, to simple comforts.

I stared at the intricate patterns woven into the drapes, the glimmering gold accents that framed the walls, the elegant furniture that seemed too pristine to touch.

"What the heck is happening here?" I muttered to myself, my voice barely above a whisper.

I couldn't make sense of any of it. The grand room, the oversized mirrors, the plush carpets beneath my feet it all screamed wealth and status, two things I had never known in my life.

My old world was filled with dingy gym lockers, hard bleachers, and the dull atmosphere of late-night study sessions in cramped apartments. But this? This was far too much.

I tugged at the loose gown I was wearing, its material brushing against my skin like silk, unfamiliar and foreign. The weight of my new body, the softness of my limbs it was all too much to take in.

I felt trapped, smothered by the sheer opulence of it all. Everything here was designed for someone else. Someone rich, delicate, and pampered. Not me.

Suddenly, a loud creak echoed from the large wooden door across the room. I looked up, startled, just in time to see it swing open.

My eyes widened as at least six people streamed in, each dressed in the same crisp, formal uniforms, all of them carrying trays upon trays of food.

"What...?" I blinked, unable to comprehend the scene unfolding in front of me.

The servants, all moving with practiced efficiency, began placing the trays on a large table near the center of the room.

The sheer amount of food was overwhelming piles of roasted meats, baskets of bread, plates of pastries and cakes, bowls filled to the brim with soups and sauces. It was enough to feed a small army. Or, apparently, just me.

One of the servants, a tall woman with a calm, stern face, stepped forward and addressed me with a small bow.

"Lady Ren, we've brought your breakfast. Please, enjoy."

I stared at her, then at the mountain of food that was now laid out before me. My stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch, still unsettled from everything that had happened.

"Uh... this is... this is too much," I stammered, waving a hand toward the table. "I mean, this could feed, like, 40 people."

The servant looked at me with a raised eyebrow, her expression a mix of confusion and concern. "Lady Ren, this is your usual breakfast."

"Usual?" I sputtered, nearly choking on the word. "Are you serious? There's enough food here to cater a banquet!"

The servants exchanged glances, their faces unreadable. The tall woman, clearly the one in charge, stepped forward again. "Is something wrong, my lady? You never refuse your meals."

"I... what?" I shook my head, trying to process her words. "No, this is insane! I can't eat all this. This is way too much food!"

The woman's eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of suspicion crossing her features. "Are you feeling unwell, Lady Ren? It is highly unusual for you to refuse a meal."

I could feel my face growing hot with embarrassment, and my stomach tightened uncomfortably. "No, I'm not sick! I just... I'm not hungry for all of that."

The woman's brow furrowed, and the other servants watched me closely, like they were expecting me to collapse any moment. "But, my lady, you have never refused breakfast before," she said slowly, as if speaking to a child. "You usually... enjoy quite a hearty meal."

"Yeah, well, maybe not today," I shot back, feeling my frustration rise. "I just want... something light. A salad, maybe."

There was a collective gasp from the servants, and I could see their expressions shift to disbelief. "A salad?" one of the younger maids murmured, as if I had just asked for a plate of dirt.

The head servant's eyes narrowed even further. "Lady Ren, are you certain you're not ill? This behavior is most unusual."

I groaned inwardly, my hands clenching at the soft fabric of my gown. "Look, I don't need all this food, okay? Just... just a salad. That's all."

The head servant hesitated for a moment, clearly torn between following orders and her obvious concern for my mental state.

"As you wish," she finally said, giving a stiff nod. She turned to the others and made a gesture. "Clear the table."

The other servants moved quickly, gathering up the trays of food with a speed and precision that left me even more bewildered.

They moved in a silent, choreographed routine, whisking away the mountains of food as if it had never existed in the first place.

But as they worked, I couldn't help but feel an overwhelming exhaustion creeping over me. It was subtle at first, a heaviness in my limbs that made me feel slow and clumsy.

I shifted on the bed, trying to shake it off, but the weight of my new body made it harder than I expected. My breathing was labored, my chest rising and falling as if I had just run a mile.

Why was I so tired already? I hadn't done anything but argue with the servants, and yet my muscles felt weak, sluggish, as if they couldn't support the weight of my own body.

By the time the last of the food had been cleared away, I felt drained. My shoulders slumped, and I had to grip the edge of the bed for support, my fingers sinking into the soft, plush fabric.

The head servant approached me again, a small plate in hand. On it was a simple salad green leaves, a few slices of tomato, nothing more. She placed it gently on the table beside me, then gave me a long, scrutinizing look.

"If you require anything else, my lady, please let us know." Her tone was polite, but there was an undercurrent of suspicion in her voice.

"Yeah, sure, thanks," I muttered, too tired to argue anymore.

The servants left quietly, the door closing behind them with a soft click. As soon as they were gone, I slumped back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.

My breath came in short, shallow bursts, and I could feel the unfamiliar weight of my body pressing down on me.

This body... it wasn't mine. It wasn't the lean, athletic form I had spent years training, building, sculpting through endless hours of basketball practice and running drills. This was something else entirely soft, round, and weak.

I glanced at the salad on the table, feeling an absurd sense of triumph for having stood my ground. But the exhaustion that had followed was sobering.

"I'm too fat," I whispered to the empty room, my voice barely audible. "This... this is going to be difficult."