NOVEL NEXT Chapter 1: Waking Up
Alphonse had every chance in the world to be a better person.
Internally, he blamed his relationship with his father, who had beaten him whenever he got the chance and abused his mother and sister.
But there was something wrong with him. Something that had been broken when he was still very young. Now, at thirty-three years old, he was sure of it. No relationship he had ever had worked out.
His job as a police detective never led anywhere. His family had distanced themselves from him, and all that was left was one last bottle of vodka.
“Fuck it!” he thought as he downed the bottle.
His apartment, as always, was a mess, with cigarette butts scattered on the floor and a single light in the room coming from his computer. Various sounds echoed in the room, from motorcycles passing by on the street to the porn playing on the computer.
Alphonse sat on the bed, his head spinning. He couldn’t imagine it was just the alcohol, but at least he would finally be able to sleep. His eyes gradually grew heavy, his mind emptied, and Morpheus led him into another peaceful night.
But this wouldn’t just be another peaceful night.
Gradually, his chest began to feel heavy, and his breathing became more difficult, to the point where even inebriated, he woke up.
His eyes could barely make out what was happening in his room, but he could see someone on top of him, holding a wire against his neck. His breath was stuck; he tried to pull in the air but only felt the burning in his lungs, fighting for another gasp.
Alphonse wasn’t sure, but his attacker looked a lot like his father. Perhaps this was his punishment.
The punishment for never having done anything, for never having fought back.
Already out of breath, he closed his eyes, ready for his end.
As quickly as Alphonse closed his eyes, he opened them again.
But he was no longer in his apartment.
His neck, where he had been hanged, still hurt. But he didn’t feel the signs of asphyxiation. In fact, he felt almost nothing except for a deep pain in his right eye.
Putting his hands to his face, Alphonse felt his face was swollen.
"What the hell is this!" he shouted upon seeing his hands.
They were young, and the room seemed so big.
For the first time, Alphonse noticed the room he was in. The boy was sitting on a wide bed, something he hadn’t seen in his past life. Each corner of the bed had a post supporting a canopy draping over it. His sheets and bedspread were embroidered with crests. The room was enormous; it could easily fit his old apartment inside it.
Right after he shouted, the boy heard footsteps running around him.
“He’s awake! He’s awake!” a voice shouted, but in a tender tone. “Go and call the Baroness quickly!”
Alphonse turned to see who was speaking; it was a young girl, probably in her middle teens.
Her golden hair fell around her face, giving her a princess-like appearance. Her dress was flowing, something Alphonse had only seen in history books.
“Brother? Brother?” the girl said. “Can you speak?”
‘Brother?’ Alphonse thought. ‘Is she my sister?’
In his memory, his sister was quite different.
However, when he stopped to think, he could remember other things.
A second life. A second story.
This girl was indeed his sister.
He tried to open his mouth to speak, but nothing came from his throat.
“You were out cold for some weeks; maybe you need water,” the girl said gently.
Alphonse tried to remember the girl’s name. It wasn’t difficult; she was Sophie von Hohenberg.
‘Von Hohenberg?’ Alphonse thought.
The name Sophie wasn’t unfamiliar; it was the same as his sister’s in his last life.
However, they had never had such a sophisticated surname.
Alphonse's memories included some other issues. His family was almost the "same" as in his last life.
Sophie approached the boy, pointing one of her fingers to her brother's lips.
“Water flow,” the girl whispered.
A few drops of water appeared from the tip of her fingers.
Alphonse's eyes widened; however, in his memories, he recalled.
‘There’s magic in this world!’ the boy thought exceptionally happily.
His memories were still muddled, but he was gradually recalling things.
The boy tried to speak again, his throat slightly wet and his thirst quenched.
“S-sister,” he said with a hoarse throat.
Upon hearing her brother speak, the girl broke down.
Her eyes filled with tears, and her arms quickly moved to embrace her older brother, who was still lying in bed.
“I-I was so scared you wouldn’t wake up,” the girl told him.
Alphonse looked deep into her eyes and gave a slight smile, as much as he was capable of.
The boy wanted to maintain the mask of an innocent brother, which was very difficult at that moment.
He felt the brotherly love that Alphonse had; however, in his memories, he could also find a pure desire for the women who surrounded him.
'What a freak this boy was. But I can't blame him.' Alphonse thought.
With the hug, he could feel his sister's soft and smooth body. Making it even harder to control his erection that was forming beneath those sheets.
Before he could speak, a loud noise from the door opening echoed in the room.
"THUM!"
The boy turned to see who it was, but he already knew.
“M-Mother!” Alphonse broke into a wide smile upon seeing her.
To many, she was a sign of danger; the Baroness was extremely sharp with anyone else. But she had a soft spot for her children.
Isabelle Von Honhenberg married the baron to increase her family's power. Her main bargaining chips were her unmatched beauty and unique skill to manage the territory almost perfectly.
Until that moment, Alphonse had always ignored the ability to manage the territory, but now, with his more adult mind, he knew how valuable it was.
However, immature Alphonse could only observe his mother's curves: her hand-sculpted face, her long golden hair, and her bust, which seemed like it would explode inside those dresses.
In addition to an unmatched ass, that was a point ignored by many nobles in the region.
“Alphonse!” Isabelle said, her voice still trembling and her eyes glassy with tears.
She jumped onto the bed, embracing her son. He had been her first child, and although she wanted to ignore it, there was a special affection for her firstborn. Even now, at sixteen years old, he was still just her baby.
Isabelle hugged her son with all her strength, lifting his face to her chest.
Alphonse wanted to savor his mother's warm embrace, which he hadn’t felt in a long time.
However, his mind couldn't escape noticing how full and soft her breasts were.
“I'm sorry, Alphonse; it’s all my fault,” Isabelle kept repeating.
Searching his memory, Alphonse understood the guilt his mother carried.
He had been bedridden after receiving a beating from his father for not meeting the expectations he had for the son of a baron.
However, his mother could have protected him; he knew how much even his father feared the actions the Baroness could take. She just didn’t expect that the reprimand would escalate to the point of putting the boy in a coma and nearly killing him.
‘Actually, killing him. If I’m here, is it because the original Alphonse died?’ the boy thought.
“D-don’t worry, Mother. It’s all right,” Alphonse tried to calm the Baroness. “This won’t happen again.”
What might have seemed like a way to reassure his family was, in fact, a promise to himself.
Alphonse would not allow his father to destroy his life once again.
'Not even in this other world.'
