The morning light filtered through the grand windows of the chamber, casting intricate patterns across the polished marble floor. Alex blinked groggily as his senses returned to him. His head throbbed slightly, a dull ache accompanying the dissonance of waking in a place that was utterly foreign, yet disturbingly familiar.
The towering canopy bed, the luxurious drapes, the faint scent of exotic incense—it all confirmed what he'd been dreading.
"So, it wasn't a fucked-up dream," he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible.
He ran a hand down his face, trying to shake off the haze of sleep. His heart pounded in his chest, panic bubbling just beneath the surface, though his expression remained cold and composed. Years of working as a doctor had trained him to mask his emotions, even in the most harrowing situations. But this wasn't a difficult surgery or a patient in critical condition.
This was something else entirely.
His thoughts raced. I was at the hospital. I finished my shift. I ate a burger, a chicken sandwich. Then... then I woke up here. In this body. In this insane world.
His mind screamed at him to panic, to shout, to demand answers. But the composure of the Fool—the unyielding, emotionless mask of the King—seemed to hold him in check.
"Master, are you well?"
The soft, concerned voice drew his attention. Alex turned his head, his gaze meeting that of a young woman standing by the side of the bed. She was dressed in a simple yet elegant maid's uniform, her blonde hair neatly tied back, her blue eyes wide with concern.
She stood stiffly, her hands clasped together, as though afraid to disturb him further.
"...I'm fine," Alex said after a moment, his voice low and calm, though inside he was anything but.
The maid hesitated, her expression wavering. "If I may be so bold, Master... you seemed troubled as you slept. You called out—"
"I said I'm fine," Alex cut her off, his tone sharper than he intended.
The maid flinched, bowing her head quickly. "Of course, Your Majesty. My apologies for overstepping."
Alex immediately regretted his tone. He hadn't meant to snap—it wasn't her fault he was trapped in this surreal nightmare. He let out a slow breath, forcing himself to relax.
"It's nothing," he said, softer this time. "Just a restless night."
The maid straightened, a small smile of relief gracing her lips. "Understood, Master. Shall I bring you breakfast?"
Alex nodded, though his appetite was nonexistent. "Yes. Something light."
The maid curtsied and left the room, her footsteps fading down the hall.
As the door closed behind her, Alex leaned back against the headboard, staring up at the ornate ceiling. His mind churned, trying to piece together the fragments of his situation.
I'm not just in another world. I'm in the body of the Fool—the King of Reselo. A literal god, or so they say.
The memories of last night came rushing back: the confrontation with Luka Ivanof, the cryptic words he had spoken, the alley where he had killed those thugs. The strange mix of satisfaction and revulsion still lingered, tugging at the edges of his consciousness.
And now, he was here, in the palace, expected to act the part of a king.
I can't keep pretending forever, Alex thought. Someone will notice. Someone will figure it out.
But as he clenched his fists, a new resolve began to form. If he was truly stuck in this world, then he needed to understand it. To survive. To take control.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, his feet touching the cold marble floor. The ornate mirror across the room caught his reflection—the dark hair, the piercing black eyes, the faint smirk that seemed to linger no matter his true emotions.
If this is my life now, then I'll make it my own, Alex thought. But first... I need answers.
He dressed quickly, donning the dark robes that were laid out for him, their intricate designs befitting a king. By the time the maid returned with a tray of breakfast, Alex was already formulating a plan.
"Have the ministers been summoned yet?" he asked, his voice steady and commanding.
The maid blinked, startled by his sudden question. "Not yet, Your Majesty. Shall I call for them?"
"Yes," Alex said. "Tell them to convene immediately."
As the maid hurried off to carry out his orders, Alex glanced out the window, his gaze sweeping over the sprawling capital of Lofe.
If I'm to survive in this world, I need to understand it. Its people, its politics, its dangers. And most of all... I need to understand this body. This power.
He picked up the cup of tea from the tray, the porcelain warm against his fingers.
Time to act the part of a god.
Here's the expanded scene with dialogue and a tone inspired by Lord of the Mysteries:
The grand council chamber was a masterpiece of gothic architecture, its high, arched ceilings adorned with intricate carvings depicting the triumphs of Reselo's kings. A long table stretched through the center of the room, surrounded by a dozen ministers, each dressed in the fine robes of their office. They sat stiffly, their gazes fixed on the man at the head of the table—the King of Reselo, the God of Gods, the Fool.
Alex—or rather, the Fool—rested his chin on his hand, his black eyes cold and piercing as they swept across the gathered officials. His expression was unreadable, a mask of detached boredom, though his mind churned beneath the surface.
The ministers shifted uneasily under his gaze, their discomfort palpable.
"Tell me," Alex began, his tone languid, almost lazy, "what do you think of the slaves that walk among us?"
The question hung in the air, heavy with the weight of its implications.
One of the older ministers, a man with a graying beard and a stern expression, cleared his throat. "Your Majesty, slaves are... a necessary part of our kingdom's foundation. They toil where others will not. They serve where others cannot. They are the backbone of our economy."
The others nodded in agreement, their faces carefully neutral.
Alex leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers against the armrest. Slaves as the backbone of the economy, he thought. Typical of a society stuck in the past.
"And what makes them slaves?" he asked, his voice soft yet carrying a sharp edge.
The same minister replied, "They are... lesser, Your Majesty. Born to serve, to labor. They lack the spark of nobility, the blessings of the gods. It is their role in life to—"
Alex raised a hand, cutting him off. The room fell silent.
"They lack the spark of nobility," Alex repeated, his tone cold. "And who decided that?"
The ministers exchanged uneasy glances.
"It has always been so, Your Majesty," another minister ventured, a younger man with a nervous demeanor. "The gods decreed it. The ancestors upheld it. To challenge such truths would be—"
"Truths?" Alex interrupted, his voice rising slightly, the faintest trace of anger seeping through his facade. "Are you saying that because something has always been, it is therefore right?"
The young minister flinched, bowing his head. "N-no, Your Majesty. I only meant that—"
Alex didn't let him finish. He leaned forward, his gaze boring into the room.
"Half the people living in this kingdom are not even considered people," he said, his voice now as sharp and cold as a blade. "You see them as tools, as objects. You call this truth. I call it laziness."
The older minister frowned, his tone growing defensive. "Your Majesty, you must understand—abolishing slavery would upend our economy. Our fields, our mines, our industries—they rely on the labor of slaves. Without them, Reselo would—"
"Would what?" Alex snapped, his eyes narrowing. "Collapse? Crumble into ruin? Or would it adapt, evolve, and become stronger?"
The room was deathly silent.
The older minister hesitated, then bowed his head slightly. "Your Majesty, I only speak out of concern for the kingdom. Such a sudden change would bring unrest, rebellion, and suffering to all."
Alex studied the man for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he spoke, his tone calm but laced with menace.
"Are you questioning my will?"
The minister's face paled, and he quickly dropped to one knee. "Never, Your Majesty. I only seek to advise."
"Good," Alex said, leaning back once more. "Then hear this. I am abolishing slavery. Effective immediately."
The words sent a ripple of shock through the room. The ministers exchanged frantic glances, their composed facades cracking.
"But, Your Majesty," another minister began cautiously, "how will the freed slaves support themselves? They lack skills, property, and means. Many may turn to crime or starvation. It is not simply a matter of declaring freedom; it requires—"
Alex raised his hand again, silencing him.
"Your concern is noted," he said coldly. "But it is not my problem. You are my ministers. Solve it."
The man's mouth opened, then closed, his words caught in his throat.
Alex rose from his seat, the movement deliberate and commanding.
"I have no interest in preserving a system that disgusts me," he said, his voice carrying the weight of finality. "If the economy of Reselo cannot survive without chains, then it does not deserve to survive at all."
He paused, letting his words sink in. Then he added, almost as an afterthought, "And if anyone here believes they know better than I, they are welcome to take their objections to the grave."
The ministers bowed their heads, their faces pale.