Whispers of the past
Days turned into weeks, and weeks into a month.
Life as Lucien Baldovery was still foreign, but damn—he was enjoying it.
“Money really does buy happiness,” Sunoo mused, sipping his tea as he gazed out over the vast gardens of the Baldovery estate. The sun bathed the landscape in golden hues, illuminating the grand fountains, neatly trimmed hedges, and the delicate flowers swaying in the breeze.
Everything about this world screamed wealth.
“Seriously, these people are filthy rich.”
He had spent his entire past life fighting for scraps, clawing his way to the top of the underworld just to ensure his own survival. Now? Everything he could ever want was handed to him on a silver platter.
And he wasn’t about to complain.
After the day he had woken up, his father had declared a celebration. Not a grand ball with nobles and royals—just an intimate gathering within the mansion, a feast shared with family and the servants who had cared for him.
His mother had been the most emotional, never leaving his side, constantly asking if he was feeling alright.
“Lucien, are you sure you’re not dizzy? Does your head hurt? Do you need anything?”
She had hovered over him like a protective shield, fussing over the smallest details.
He had smiled—his smile, the one that always put people at ease—and reassured her over and over. “I’m fine, Mother. Really.”
It had worked, to some extent. The worry in her eyes never fully faded, but she relaxed enough to enjoy the celebration.
And what a celebration it was.
Laughter filled the halls, servants and family alike toasting to his recovery. The food had been the finest he had ever tasted, the music lively, the atmosphere warm.
For the first time in his life, he had felt… happy.
Not because of survival. Not because he had achieved another victory.
But because he was wanted.
Because they loved him.When the night ended, he had returned to his room with a smile on his lips, stomach full, mind at ease.
This life—it was good.
No blood. No betrayals. No endless nights of watching his back.
He loved it.
He would do anything to keep it.
But as he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the warmth in his chest faded.
A whisper echoed in his mind.
"Sunoo… Sunoo…"
His breath hitched.
The voice was distant but persistent, threading through his thoughts like a ghostly presence.
He closed his eyes, but the darkness brought no comfort. Images flickered behind his eyelids—memories that weren’t his.
A childhood spent within these walls. The soft laughter of a boy who had never known hardship. The gentle touch of a mother brushing back golden hair. The echo of a father’s voice, firm yet filled with love.
The real Lucien.
The boy who should have been here.
His fingers curled into the sheets.
What had happened to him?
And why did it feel like he hadn’t left?
Darkness faded into light.
Sunoo found himself standing in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by a vast garden of white roses swaying in the breeze. The scent was overwhelming—sweet yet tinged with something melancholic.
Ahead, amidst the sea of flowers, a boy stood, holding a bouquet of roses in his arms. His golden hair shimmered under the soft glow of the sun, his delicate features painted with warmth as he laughed, carefree and unburdened.
Sunoo’s breath caught in his throat.
The boy turned, locking eyes with him.
A familiar face. His face.
But it wasn’t him.
The boy smiled.
Lucien.
Sunoo stiffened as Lucien took slow, graceful steps toward him. His presence was light, almost ethereal, as if he would disappear if Sunoo so much as blinked.
Then, in a voice soft as the wind, Lucien spoke.
“Sunoo.”
Sunoo’s body tensed.
Lucien’s gaze held no resentment, no anger—only understanding.
“My past is your strength now, not your past,” he said gently, placing a hand over his own heart. “Here, everyone loves you. My house… our house, is yours now.”
Sunoo remained silent, absorbing his words.
“This is only the start,” Lucien continued, the warmth in his voice never wavering. “The real challenge is still waiting for you. But don’t worry—just be yourself. Your family will always be behind you.”
A gust of wind rustled the roses. Lucien’s smile didn’t fade, but his eyes darkened ever so slightly.
“The life of the rich is more brutal than it seems.”
Something about the way he said it sent a chill down Sunoo’s spine.
Lucien took a step back, his figure becoming hazy, blending into the golden light around them.
“Live your life to the fullest here, Sunoo.” His voice was softer now, almost like a whisper in the wind. “And if you ever need me… I’ll be here, in your dreams.”
The world around him flickered.
Then, with one final smile, Lucien whispered—
“Rise and shine, Sunoo.”
—
Sunoo’s eyes snapped open.
His room was silent except for the faint rustle of the curtains, the first rays of morning light spilling into the grand space.
His breath was uneven, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he processed what had just happened.
His fingers curled into the silk sheets beneath him. His face felt wet.
Tears.
He reached up, touching the dampness on his cheeks.
Lucien’s words echoed in his mind, lingering like a phantom.
A slow, shaky exhale left his lips.
He wiped his tears away, his expression hardening.
I’ll try to survive.
He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again—this time, filled with a new resolve.
"Thank you."