𝐀𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 | trash of the count's family

Wrong decision (1)

i'm quite terrible at pacing. please bear with me. — asshat-t

Slowly, Morpheus' grip around him grows slack. The swirling darkness surrounding his mind fades, and he was met with the dark-reddish hue of his eyelids, the light peeking through silk white curtains shining upon his features.

He remained still, relishing in the comfort that surrounded his body.

The soft cushions that he laid upon seemed to be pulling on him like a magnet. The pillows gave the comforting sensation of a mother placing her child's head onto her bosom; the mattress felt like pieces of heaven were taken from the sky and shoved underneath him; the blankets embraced his body like a lover would on a cold, wintry night.

'It's like I'm in a 5-star hotel..'

He thought to himself, humming as he moved his body to the side and dug his head deeper into the cushions, the edges of his mouth pointing upwards in satisfaction.

It's been five days since he transmigrated into the world of "The Birth of a Hero". Thankfully, he was free to relax without any worries and adjust to his new lifestyle, having had transmigrated into the past three weeks before the main character, Choi Han, arrives.

When he first came here, things were rocky. He would always feel people's uncomfortable gazes boring into his back left and right, and it was quite hard to strike a conversation with so many stiff bodies wanting to have nothing to do with him, but eventually, he was able to adjust to his new position as Cale Henituse, the (trash) disgrace of the Henituse family.

You'd expect things to be quite cumbersome for Kim Rok Soo, as he is inside the body of someone notorious for being trash, but truthfully, these past few days, things have been nothing but a vacation for him.

True, there were the uncomfortable gazes and the awkward conversation attempts, but besides that, there was money. Luxury. That was all that mattered to the man, right now.

'What use is it to fix this trash's reputation? I already have money -- communicating would just be a waste of time.'

He adds to his thoughts, nodding sluggishly as if agreeing with another's words.

'Although, it is quite inconvenient at times, having a stranger's discomfort directed onto me, who isn't the original owner of this body.'

He thinks, finishing his thoughts with a few choice words directed towards the original's habit of drinking excessively.

He lays still for a moment, enjoying the bed's warmth (and the shoulder pain-free feature, which he complimented the anonymous manufacturers for), listening intently to the sound of chirping birds and the echoing of flapping wings.

It was quite an unfamiliar sound, nature.

It was beautiful, yet peculiar to him. Because no matter how well he'd adjusted to his new life, this world was still foreign, and he will remain an outsider.

But that didn't matter much anymore, did it?

Finally, Cale decided it was time to rise.

'Let's get up now.'

He thinks as he sits up languorously, allowing the sheets to slide from his clothed chest to his lap, stretching his arms above and heaving a yawn.

His arms fall to his sides; he cranes his neck.

'Since Ron's not here yet, I should prepare for ... '

His thoughts were cut off as his eyes flutter open with something unfamiliar poking at his peripheral vision.

He turns his head.

The first thing his eyes focused on was a person with a beautiful, wild mop of H/C hair, curling and swirling about haphazardly in arcs reminiscent of the crescent moon.

There was faint, white light shining upon their messy locks, making it appear as though an airbrush was used to add extra effect onto a masterful artwork.

Complimenting the hair was an equally beautiful face.

They had pale, pale skin the shade of butter, with small amounts of red sprinkling the sides of their face. They had plump, pink lips, slightly askew and presenting fangs hidden within, bright and threatening, and they possessed a chiseled jawline. It was sharp as if carved by the hands of succubi — made with the intention to seduce.

Cale's eyes trail downwards; he found himself looking at a neck, collarbone, chest, a white shirt barely keeping it all hidden from inquisitive eyes.

The person shifts.

Cale's eyes moved up, and his auburn orbs clashed with two piecing moons.

And, suddenly, Cale feels as if he'd made a wrong decision.