Under a Dimmed Sun [UNCENSORED]

Extra/Alternate Universe 3: The CEO's Medieval Memories -Episode 1

Albert woke with a start, his breaths shallow, his chest rising and falling rapidly as though he had been running. His heart thudded in sync with the fading echoes of the dream—a life lived centuries ago. He could still feel the chill of stone walls, smell the faint scent of parchment and wax, and hear the distant clash of swords and raised voices from courtly disputes.

"Again?" he whispered, his voice hoarse. He pressed a trembling hand to his forehead, damp with sweat. It was the same dream, playing out like a hauntingly familiar melody: Albert of Mohn, a Castilian nobleman entangled in webs of power and betrayal. The dream unspooled vivid fragments—his half-sister Queen Juana of Navarre, his secret love and his father's mistress Alice, Isabel, and the dark, unforgivable act of ending his father's life. It always ended the same way: his own death, retribution at the hands of a nameless avenger.

The room around him was starkly modern, its sharp contrast jarring against the medieval world that lingered in his mind. The polished glass walls of his penthouse apartment reflected the golden glow of the city lights below, stretching endlessly into the night. The hum of traffic far below was a constant reminder of the vibrant chaos that was 2018.

Albert swung his legs over the side of his plush, king-sized bed, his bare feet brushing against the soft texture of an imported woolen rug. He stood, walking toward the floor-to-ceiling windows. The city skyline greeted him, glittering with promise and ambition. Yet, the emptiness he felt didn't match the opulence that surrounded him.

The apartment, a marvel of modern design, was meticulously curated—sleek furniture in muted tones, minimalist art pieces, and a state-of-the-art kitchen that he rarely used. On the coffee table lay a stack of unread documents, alongside a bottle of whiskey, still uncorked from a late-night meeting. In this life, Albert was the CEO of a multi-billion-dollar tech corporation, the kind of man others envied. His days were filled with board meetings, ambitious plans for expansion, and navigating the cutthroat world of global business.

But at night, in the silence of his penthouse, the weight of another life bore down on him. The dreams blurred the line between past and present, and sometimes, he wondered if they were more than dreams. Was Albert of Mohn a figment of his imagination, or was he remembering a life long gone?

The thought chilled him, and yet it pulled at him like a thread unraveling his neatly woven existence.

Albert leaned against the sleek marble counter of his luxury apartment's kitchen, a steaming mug of black coffee in hand. The morning light spilled through the massive windows, reflecting off the polished surfaces and casting a warm glow over the modern space. The city below was alive with motion—honking horns, hurried footsteps, and the occasional hum of a helicopter cutting through the distant skyline.

His phone buzzed sharply on the counter, jolting him from his thoughts. He glanced at the screen. John Carter. His cousin. And, unfortunately, a senior board member at MoonCorp.

Albert let out a low sigh before answering. "What now, John?"

John's voice came through, its tone a mix of irritation and amusement. "Morning to you too, Mr. CEO. Listen, we need to talk about your secretary situation."

Albert raised an eyebrow, already anticipating the lecture. "What about it?"

"What about it?" John repeated incredulously. "Do you even know how many secretaries you've gone through in the past year? Five. All of them left crying. It's a record, even for you."

Albert smirked, unconcerned. "If they can't handle the job, they don't belong here. MoonCorp doesn't cater to the weak."

"Albert, you're a brilliant businessman, but your people skills are atrocious. You're running them into the ground."