Sunlight seeped through the forest floor, as the trees were spaced far apart, and the morning mist stood out most in the light of day.
A lean boy with a fair complexion looked ahead as he carried his spear, clothed in a short tunic and draped cloak, his blue eyes penetrating every bark, as some herbs and even shrubs brushed against his naked legs. He was careful with each step he took, while he bathed in the morning dew. Like a predator in the wild, he pressed on and let every second count as he searched for his target.
From afar there stood a deer, which seemed to satisfy its thirst as it drank from a crystal clean pond.
With the prey occupied, the lean boy flung his spear forward and struck the deer in its stomach.
The deer moaned with uneven breaths as the predator dashed forward and faced the dying prey.
He dropped to one knee and caressed the head of the deer, as he placed his forehead on it, trying to shush its suffering, while his other arm gently pulled the spear out of its body.
His prey then drew its last breath.
Until—
「"My hunter?"」
The boy looked around and stood firmly, holding his spear in preparation.
"Who was that?" he asked, but only the kiss of the raging wind answered him.
Swoosh! A rustle from behind.
Without hesitation, the boy turned and launched his spear toward the direction of the rustle.
Sadly, when he blinked, he could only gasp for air.
And his weapon, instead of lunging ahead, cut something.
Instead of spear, it appeared to be an axe.
Wood? he thought as he could feel the mad thuds in his chest. What's happening?
The boy could not move his own body.
It turned out that something else seemed to be controlling him.
But who was the one who called for him was one enigma he might never have an inkling of.
His hand took one chunk of wood and placed it on the wood block. Crack! Cutting it into two with his axe, the boy somehow creased his forehead.
What am I doing?
Why am I suddenly here?
However, he could not seem to stop chopping the chunks of wood, even though trickles of sweat soaked his beautiful face.
He was preoccupied the whole time, lost in his thoughts as the body moved on its own.
More or less, he could not hear that someone already stood before him.
"How stupid are you going to be, son?"
It was a thunderous and authoritative voice of someone with a cold personality.
When the boy met his gaze, he swiftly pierced his axe into the wood block and fell to his knees.
"Father."
For the man before him wore a royal cloak, with a beard and blue eyes, who claimed him as his son.
"I thought you were not greeting your father." The man cleared his throat. "You shall rise at once, my shepherd."
Shepherd? But I thought I was hunting.
Yet he could not content himself with such pondering, as he looked like a lost soul in an unfamiliar body.
"What brings you to my pasture, father?" The boy went to his small house and took the staff before facing his father once more.
"I came to bring you back." His father looked at him with longing. "I am getting old, and your mother misses you too."
"Do you suggest that I take the throne?" he probed as he got past his father.
Ahead on the crooked road was a carriage and a number of servants bowing as he ignored them.
From afar was his pasture, filled with herds of sheep and goats.
The herd greeted him as he leaned down and tried to touch each of them one by one.
The boy smiled, as if he were . . . content.
"My son, come back now with me. How much longer must you be stubborn?"
"I belong as a shepherd, King Aethlius." Some of the sheep licked his hand. "Send my regards to my lovely queen and mother."
Then am I a prince?
Who am I really?
"My son, we long for you. At least visit us."
Even when his father's tone seemed cold, there was a warm invitation in his voice.
But the boy seemed determined in his answer.
"Father, my King, for all I know, you will only lock me in the castle, and shall you—"
"I bow not to that, as the king I shall be responsible for the weight behind the words I utter." The king coughed, and the boy could only look with concern. "I am afraid that as I grow old, I grow sick easily as well. Why not stay with us for a day, before you come back here?" His father pleaded, a melancholy present in his eyes. "I will have a servant take care of your pasture and your herds, and you can come and greet your mother as well. She's longing for her son and cannot even leave her chamber."
The boy was about to assist his ill father but—
「"My morningstar?"」
The boy became stiff, as everything else did, like his father before him, who looked like a stilled painting.
That whisper again? he thought as his worry and fear rose.
When time resumed and he blinked, he did not meet his father's figure, but countless figures bowing before him.
He was now wearing a royal robe, as his body suddenly moved and sat on a high chair like a throne.
Is this . . . ?
His mind was stupefied enough to analyze the scenery.
"Long live the king!"
The figures worshipped him like mad, as he watched them do such deeds.
A dream? I could be in a dream.
Eventually, he could not be proud in that moment, nor was he satisfied. The body appeared weary, as his heart ached more and more. It was never a mystery at this point.
After all, I get to be king.
Even the soul thought of such a thing with longing.
His parents were no longer around.
They were gone. It's loud but . . . sad. I feel sad. I feel lonely.
Apart from that, he still did not know who he was.
A needle in a haystack.
Left for him to solve.
Then he blinked slowly and slowly, as if the lids grew tired themselves and heavy. It seemed even his soul yearned rest. In this dream, he was exhausted three-fold.
But, would the dream come to an end?
Somehow . . .
He heard the whisper for the third time.
「"Sleep well, my hunter, my morningstar."」
However, he was stifled as a clueless being in that life. For it was never a dream. Such fact was something — as it was a memory that was being buried and devoured, taking all of his, all of what he had.
Suddenly, all he could see was darkness.
How much he slept, his conscious mind could not even fathom.
It looked like he was to slumber for the rest of eternity.
Or so he thought.
After all, he would wake up in a different body, with all the memories slowly fading.
Perhaps, not entirely everything.
Perhaps, even the voice told him that sleeping was much better.
But when he woke up, he could only think of his past life as fragments turned nightmares.
His mind would not fathom he was living his second life.
Truthfully, in another world.