"Azael… Azael…"
That name echoed repeatedly inside his mind as it was not loud enough to hurt but too clear to be ignored, like a voice calling out from a distance just out of reach.
The name felt somewhat strange, however, at the same time it also felt familiar in some way, yet he couldn't remember why it mattered so much.
He struggled in his sleep as his face slightly twisted as if in terrible pain.
His struggle continued until he felt someone gently shaking his shoulders. A different voice that was clearer and closer than the last one broke through the heavy fog of his dreams.
"Young master… young master…"
"Urgh!"
A low groan escaped his lips as his eyes slowly opened and his eyebrows fluttered.
His body felt tired for some reason while his head was burning with pain as if someone had lit a fire inside his skull, and every breath made it worse.
He grabbed his head tightly with both hands, trying to stop the sharp pounding that threatened to tear it apart.
He looked forward through half-opened eyes, still breathing heavily, and saw something he hadn't expected, an enormous ceiling that stretched far above and was covered in beautiful patterns and carvings he couldn't recognize.
The way it looked made it clear he wasn't anywhere near his small and old apartment.
Confusion filled his mind like smoke filling a room, making it harder to think clearly.
He quickly sat up on the bed while his heart raced from the pain and the unknown.
"Where… where is this…?"
His voice was hoarse and weak, but the question slipped out on its own like it was the only thing his mind could form right now.
"Young master, are you okay?"
He turned his head to the side, following the hoarse voice of an old man who looked to be in his fifties.
The man had white hair and black eyes and had wrinkles that clearly marked his age.
But what really caught Alex's attention wasn't the man's face, it was his attire.
A neat black suit with a tie, straight out of one of those old butler characters in the dramas Alex used to watch back on Earth.
Somehow, both the face and outfit felt oddly familiar to him, like something he had seen in a dream or distant memory.
'Was it in a—'
Interrupting his recall was the voice of old man.
"Young master, please say something. If you're not feeling well, should I call the priest?"
Alex blinked, even more confused than before.
'What the hell is this old man saying?' he thought.
Taking a slight step back from the man, Alex replied with a dry and sore voice, "Who are you? Why am I here? Where are my friends?"
Three questions at once.
Hearing that, the old man frowned.
"You don't remember me? Young master, I am Rian, the head butler."
"Butler...? What butler? I don't have a butler. And don't call me 'young master' — my name is Alex."
A deep worry settled over the old man's face, which only made Alex more suspicious. He narrowed his eyes at his antics.
Was this guy crazy?
Some psycho kidnapper living in a fantasy roleplay?
He seriously started to think this was one of those twisted games a serial killer played before finishing off his victims.
'For god's sake, how did I even end up here?' Alex thought.
"What are you saying, young master? Your name is not Alex."
"...Huh? Not Alex? Are you on something, old man? Stop this weird-ass drama. If you wanna kill me, just do it already. I've got a massive headache and no patience left."
"I'm truly sorry for upsetting you, young master. I would never harm you, not even in my dreams."
Looking at the man's expression, Alex thought, 'I don't think he's lying... and if he is, he deserves an Oscar. Or at least a local drama award.'
His heart wanted to believe the man, even though his brain screamed not to but Alex was always someone who listened to his heart more.
Besides, if this old guy wanted to kill him, he probably would've done it already.
"Alright, alright... you're a butler. Cool. So, Mr. Butler, tell me — where am I and why am I here?"
"It seems you've lost your memory, young master. You are in the Southern Dukedom, inside the grand palace. And as for why you're here... well, this is your home."
"...What? Wait, I live here?"
The butler simply nodded at him.
"Then what's my name here?"
The butler straightened his back and lowered his head respectfully.
"Forgive me, young master, but I am not allowed to speak your name directly. It goes against the code of my position."
Alex's face twitched in frustration.
"Old man, stop with the riddles and just say it already."
"I cannot, young master."
'This is so annoying,' Alex thought.
"You can't say it... fine. But you can write it, right?"
The old man gave a silent nod.
"Then write it there," Alex said, pointing to the paper on the desk next to his bed.
Obeying immediately, the butler took a pen from his chest pocket and scribbled something on the sheet. Then, holding it with both hands like a sacred scroll, he presented it.
"Here, young master."
Alex looked down at the paper...
And then —
"WHAT THE FUCKKKKKK!"
A heavy scream echoed throughout the room.
"No… no, no, no—this can't be real…" Alex muttered under his breath, the paper still trembling in his hand as if he refused to believe the name written on it.
His pulse spiked instantly, the veins on his neck tightening as he stared at the ink like it had betrayed him.
His breath came out in shallow and quick broken gasps as his chest again tightened.
The world spun around him as though the walls blurred and the golden glow of the chandelier above him seemed to flicker like a dying flame.
"This is a joke, it has to be a joke… some twisted prank, maybe I'm on a TV show or something…" he whispered, his voice cracking mid-sentence. "No… no, this has to be a dream… yeah, a dream, just a bad dream… I'll wake up soon, I know I will."
Without thinking, he pinched his cheeks hard enough to leave a mark.
But betraying his expectation, nothing happened.
No shift in reality, no sudden jolt out of sleep. Just the sharp sting and the same golden room around him.
Panic clawed up his throat like wildfire. "Butler! Slap me. Just do it! Wake me the hell up!"
"Young master, please… try to calm down, this is real—"
"Shut up!" Alex shouted, voice breaking. "Just—"
SLAP!
He slapped himself with all the force he could muster, the sting radiating across his cheek like hot iron, but again, nothing changed.
"This can't be real!" he shouted. "My name is Alex! Not—whatever the hell this is!"
He gripped his head tightly, nails digging into his scalp as the pain he'd felt earlier returned, worse than before, like his brain was being torn in half.
"Urghhhh—Ahhh! Aaaaaagh!" He screamed at the top of his lungs as the searing pain crashed through his skull like lightning.
The butler's eyes widened in horror, and he rushed to the door, potentially looking for something or someone, Alex didn't know, nor was he interested at that moment.
His vision swam as his limbs shook uncontrollably, and everything started to darken again.
Then—silence.
Alex collapsed onto the bed, unconscious.
The paper slowly fluttered from his hand and landed on the floor, the name written boldly across it:
LUCIEN A. ZEVREIL
------
Author's Note.
The aggressive reaction from Alex was due to the heaviness on his mind from the dream and the strange situation unfolding before him.
Adding to the pain he was feeling, it was natural for him to become angrier and not think straight in the moment.
So please be patient. Alex's, or rather Lucien's, real personality will come out once his thoughts are more collected.