The bathroom mirror was covered by a thick cloud of moisture, reflecting only a blurred outline. Water droplets ran down Leansei's pale chest, dripping onto the wrapped white towel at his waist. He ran his hand through his soaked hair, pulling the strands back, and wiped a clean circle through the condensation.
Leansei put on his glasses, staring intently at the glass. He found himself mesmerized by just how exceptionally beautiful and sharp Kean's features were. Up close, a sudden realization hit him—they possessed the exact same face shape, the same distinct, kissable lips, and the same striking almond eyes. Even the gray color of their pupils was identical or was it?
It was only the second time he had looked at Kean's face with such scrutiny. He blinked, a quiet confusion twisting inside him.
' Does Kean have gray eyes too? ' Leansei thought, tracing his reflection. ' I honestly can't remember at all. Maybe he always did. It has already been almost an entire month since I transmigrated into this body. '
Stepping out of the humid bathroom, Leansei's gaze drifted to the bed. Laid out neatly across the sheets was a tailored navy blue blazer, a crisp black V-neck shirt, and matching blue trousers. He dried his hair thoroughly before dressing in the high-end formal wear, the luxurious fabric hugging his broad frame perfectly. Next to the clothes sat a classic metal buckle watch. He fastened it securely to his wrist, slid into his polished black dress shoes, and walked over to the full-length cheval glass.
Staring back at himself, a heavy sense of unfamiliarity washed over him. He had never seen his reflection under such opulent conditions. In his previous life, he had never once attended a first-class fancy dinner meeting, nor had he ever experienced the extreme luxury that defined Kean's existence before the horrific incident.
Leansei stared deeper into the mirror, a bitter, cold ache settling over his chest as an intrusive thought crossed his mind. Sooner or later, the clock would run out. He would have to leave this magnificent life behind—he would have to abandon his amazing new friends, his protective mother, and Xerchin.
' Can't I just spend a little more time like this? ' Leansei's mind pleaded, a sudden wave of desperation hitting him. ' Can't I be completely selfish for just once in my life? I don't want to leave them behind like this. '
Knock, knock.
The sharp sound against the wooden door broke his trance, pulling him violently back to reality. He quickly smoothed down the lapels of his blazer, cleared his throat, and walked out into the grand hallway.
Waiting for him was Mrs. Ferech, looking utterly radiant in a long, glittering black gown, a small designer pouch held elegantly in her hands. The moment her eyes landed on her son, she stepped forward, her gaze tracking him with intense maternal pride. She reached out, her gentle hands sweeping across his shoulders as if brushing away invisible specks of dust from his jacket.
"You grew up so fast, son," Mrs. Ferech murmured, her soft baritone voice cracking slightly with raw emotion. She offered him a kind, beautiful smile. "I am just so incredibly glad that you are doing just fine." Hearing her words, a profound sense of gratitude tightened Leansei's throat.
' I am also deeply thankful for meeting you, ' he thought silently, his chest swelling. ' Thank you for treating me with the maternal love I have been longing for my entire life. '
"Let's go downstairs," she said smoothly, slipping her hand around Leansei's arm to cling to him as they walked toward the sweeping grand staircase. "Your brother and father are already waiting for us in the foyer."
True to her word, Mr. Ferech stood at the bottom of the steps clad in formal black attire, while Felean loitered nearby in a dark blue formal suit. Leansei paced himself, carefully assisting Mrs. Ferech down the polished stairs.
The moment they reached the landing, Mr. Ferech stepped forward, gently taking his wife's hand and placing a possessive arm around her waist.
"Here, let me assist you, honey."
"Thank you, gentleman," Mrs. Ferech smiled warmly.
Felean stepped closer, a polite smile plastered across his lips. "You look absolutely stunning, Mom."
Standing a step behind them, Leansei slowly looked down at his shoes, a familiar, hollow feeling of being left out creeping back into his ribs. But before the sadness could take root, he flinched as Mrs. Ferech suddenly reached back, placing a warm, protective hand firmly on his shoulder.
"Son," Mrs. Ferech said, turning to look at him with deep concern. "You may not remember how these functions operate, and if you are feeling too anxious... we can completely say no to this event. Just this once."
Leansei's eyes darted up, catching the immediate reaction of the other two men. In a fraction of a second, Mr. Ferech's sweet smile withered into a freezing, ice-cold look, while Felean's expression twisted into pure annoyance.
"Honey, we absolutely cannot cancel this," Mr. Ferech interrupted, his voice dropping into a stern register as he pointedly checked his luxury watch. "This is the most critical event of the quarter. Refusing to show up now would make our entire family look utterly incompetent and rude to the board."
"I'm just saying, hon... our son's health—" She tried to protest, but Mr. Ferech didn't let her finish, his grip tightening slightly on her arm as he forcefully began guiding her toward the front exit.
"He looks perfectly fine. Let's move, we are running late," Mr. Ferech commanded flatly.
Felean lingered behind, sliding his hands casually into his pockets as he glared at Leansei. The moment their parents walked out the door, Felean's fake warmth vanished, his jaw clenching tightly.
"You better just act exactly like you used to," he hissed, his voice dangerous and low. "If you mess this up for us tonight, I will personally beat you up." Without waiting for a reply, Felean turned on his heel and followed his parents into the night. Left alone in the quiet foyer, Leansei looked down and closed his eyes. He took one long, simultaneous deep breath to steady his rattling nerves, before opening his eyes and stepping out to follow them into the waiting limousine.
.
The elite family gathering was being hosted in one of the most exclusive, hyper-luxurious skyscrapers in the capital—a soaring tower reserved strictly for high-society functions and billionaire tycoons. The building climbed up to an 80th floor, but the restricted upper levels from the 50th to the 80th had been lavishly decorated with thick red carpets, elegant beige marble, and polished gold accents.
Tonight, the dinner meeting was strictly divided by status. The elite families weren't just standard wealthy citizens; they were segregated by an unyielding hierarchy of power and pedigree.
On the 77th floor sat the upper-middle-class registry, gathered inside a massive Victorian dining room washed in dramatic shades of purple, black, and dark yellow. Smart ambient lighting, dazzling metallic accents, and towering wallpaper elevated the style quotient of the pristine living space.
Meanwhile, located directly above them on the 78th floor, the true upper class held court. This room was designed to mirror royalty—steeped in classical Victorian architecture, heavy floral drapes, priceless antique rugs, and wonderful, rich red walls that brought vibrant new life to the historic dining room.
Groups of powerful families sat around the large tables, dressed in incredibly extravagant garments, laughing and conversing in a highly sophisticated, calculated manner.
"The Ferechs are running remarkably late tonight," a middle-aged woman noted, sipping her champagne with a disapproving click of her tongue. "They really should have arrived long before us."
"There was an absolute circus of reporters crowding the main entrance downstairs," a man beside her replied.
"Of course there was, but I already personally called executive management to ensure not a single reporter slides through the secure elevators."
"But tell me, have you heard the murmurs circulating the room?" another guest leaned in, lowering her voice. "They say a massive, historic announcement is being dropped tonight."
"Naturally. Mr. Vcheroi would never allow their powerful seat at the top of the conglomerate to just sit idle for nothing."
"I bet the rumors are true."
"Mr. Torse seems participating today's event."
"I heard they are busy for launching new project along with his young sole son"
"Though, it seems the eldest son of Mr. and Mrs. Ferech recovered surprisingly quickly from his accident," a businessman chimed in, adjusting his gold cufflinks.
"Yes, but the whispers out of their estate claim he changed entirely. They say he isn't that obedient, quiet perfect boy anymore."
A man in his mid-30s let out a loud, hysterical laugh, swirling the liquor in his glass. "Well, if that's the case, Mr. Vcheroi must be incredibly anxious tonight—rushing to put their own son in front and aggressively pushing the engagement through before anything else goes wrong."
.
The grand hall on the 78th floor was already teeming with high-society dynasties. Representatives from the most powerful clans had gathered: Mr. and Mrs. Rinea stood alongside their sharp-dressed son; Mr. and Mrs. Colazs conversed near their elegant daughter; the formidable Mr. Devon loitered with his sole heir; Mr. and Mrs. Corshe stood proudly next to their exceptionally polite son; and Mr. Linea cradled a champagne glass beside his poised daughter.
The entire ambiance was saturated with a thick layer of old-money sophistication. Victorian architecture, crimson red wallpapers, and stark black-and-gold crown moldings framed the luxurious venue. A disciplined line of maids stood a few meters away from the perimeter walls, their postures rigid, while the grand butler stationed himself directly before the heavy double doors.The air within the four walls was heavy with tenacious voices. High-society chatter, melodic laughter, and sharp corporate jargon bounced off the marble floors.
Suddenly, the butler stepped forward. He raised an empty crystal wine glass in one hand, aggressively tapping a stainless steel spoon against the rim. The sharp, metallic chime echoed clearly across the room, instantly commanding everyone's attention.
The crowded hall fell dead silent as all eyes snapped toward the main entrance. The butler offered a deep, exaggerated bow of absolute respect to the assembled elite families.
"Greetings to everyone present today," the butler announced, his voice carrying an authoritative weight. "Before we officially commence tonight's dinner proceedings, the Ferech family has finally arrived. Please, let us greet them with a warm round of applause." The heavy doors automatically slid open with a soft, mechanical hiss.
The elite guests immediately began clapping in synchronization. Mrs. Ferech walked in with practiced elegance, her hand wrapped tightly around her husband's arm. Right behind them, Felean marched with a highly confident posture, a flawless, charismatic smile plastered across his lips. Leansei trailed at the very back, his eyes trained firmly on the floor as a sudden wave of anxiety tightened his chest. But remembering his position, he sharply corrected his posture; he refused to let his nerves make Kean's family a laughingstock in front of these predators.
Leansei was entirely unaccustomed to massive crowds, let alone a room full of hyper-sophisticated billionaires. He felt profoundly left out, acutely aware that he hadn't been born into a life of wealth and pedigree.
"Mr. and Mrs. Ferech! What an absolutely lavish family. It is an absolute pleasure to see you tonight," Mrs. Rinea, a prominent woman in her mid-40s, chimed smoothly as she glided toward them, extending a manicured hand for a formal handshake.
As his parents instantly became entangled in complex corporate small talk with well-known industry leaders, Leansei stood in the shadows. He flinched slightly when a sudden, warm tap hit his shoulder.
He spun his head around, his eyes widening as he locked onto Corshe. The boy was dressed in pristine formal attire, his curly dark hair perfectly styled, and his signature, beautiful smile lighting up his features.
"W-what? You're actually here too?" Leansei breathed out in pure disbelief.
Corshe let out a quiet, bubbling laugh, wrapping a hand around Leansei's arm to smoothly guide him away from the stifling crowd toward a massive buffet table groaning under the weight of premium Italian and Victorian cuisine.
"Uh-huh. Trust me, I had absolutely zero intention of coming tonight, but my father's pride is something that simply cannot be crossed," Corshe grumbled playfully, casually plucking an hors d'oeuvre from a silver tray. Leansei glanced at the surrounding catering crew, but they didn't care less, remaining perfectly stoic. "By the way, Xeilin and that absolute idiot Revin are here tonight, too."
A genuine spark of joy flashed in Leansei's eyes. "Where are they?" he asked, scanning the expansive room.
"Oh, they're here in the building, just not on this specific floor," Corshe explained, popping the food into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully.
"What do you mean?" Leansei asked, his brow furrowing.
Corshe swallowed completely before answering. "They are assigned to the floor directly below us. That's just how these segregated dinner meetings take place every single year," he said, his expression turning unusually serious as he looked down at his plate. "But don't worry, everyone blends together after the formal dinner wraps up. We all head up to the exclusive rooftop garden before the event ends. It has pretty much become a mandatory tradition now."
Leansei nodded slowly, his eyes dropping down to his polished dress shoes. They gleamed brilliantly under the light of three massive crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Everything about this place was suffocatingly luxurious—vibrant crimson reds clashing against dark blacks and heavy gold accents.
Suddenly, the sharp chime of the spoon hitting the wine glass echoed through the room for a second time. The butler's signal instantly forced every mouth shut, plunging the hall back into total silence.
"The formal dinner meeting will now officially commence," the butler proclaimed, stepping gracefully to the side and bowing his head low. "Mr. Vcheroi, alongside Mr. Roshie, Mr. and Mrs. Closhe, and their respective sons and daughters are directly behind these doors. Please offer them a warm round of applause." The automatic doors slid open yet again. As the mentioned names stepped over the threshold, Leansei felt a sudden, intimidating tension spike violently within the atmosphere.
Mr. Vcheroi pioneered the group, dressed in impeccable formal wear, every single gesture oozing absolute, unyielding authority. Walking closely behind him were Mr. Roshie and Mr. and Mrs. Closhe, followed by a tight circle of their heirs.
Leansei swallowed hard, his gaze locking onto the patriarch of the Vcheroi dynasty. An extreme, freezing shiver ran straight down his spine from the sheer, tremendous intimidation the older man radiated just by existing in the space.
As the newcomers navigated the applause, Xerchin adjusted the lapels of his sleek blazer, his light blue eyes idly sweeping across the crowded room. Standing right beside him, Beidhen caught the restless movement and let out a sharp, mocking smirk.
"Looking for your real wife already, huh? Even when your official fiancée is standing right flush beside you?" Beidhen teased in a low, dangerous whisper, his eyes flashing with mischief.
Xerchin snapped his head around, shooting his older brother a lethal, warnings-filled glare. Right on his other side, Seleigh's posture went completely rigid, her eyes darting away as she overheard Beidhen's provocative words.
"Shut your mouth," Xerchin hissed coldly, his eyes returning to the crowd. "I should have completely obeyed the old man when he insisted on not dragging you along tonight. And it's not like you aren't desperately scanning the floor looking for someone the exact second we arrived, brother. It's not like your own fiancée is standing right next to you either."
Beidhen's smirk fractured, his face twisting into an annoyed pout as his gaze involuntarily darted toward a nearby column.
' Argh! This absolute bastard... I am status-confirmed not looking for anyone at all! ' Beidhen grumbled internally.
His eyes locked onto Revinah Closhe, who was standing elegantly in a breathtaking designer gown. She possessed silky, dark hair and a beautifully striking, goddess-like face that could easily bring any man to his knees. Sensing his gaze, Revinah subtly adjusted the frames of her eyeglasses, offering him a cool, entirely unbothered look.
Beidhen sharply averted his face, quickly sliding a heavy arm over Xerchin's shoulders with a proud, defensive smirk. "Well, that just makes us biological brothers, doesn't it?" Xerchin minced his lips in irritation, aggressively shoving Beidhen's arm off his shoulder as he smoothed down his formal suit.
"Xerchin, make sure you meet me in the private study immediately after the dinner wraps up," Mr. Vcheroi commanded suddenly, not turning around as he kept his focus entirely on his impending business partners.
Xerchin stared at his father's back with pure annoyance darkling his features. Beidhen's playful facade vanished in an instant, his face turning dead-serious as he shot a worried glance at his older brother.
"I told you, I really don't think I should go here to this meeting," Beidhen muttered quietly.
Xerchin didn't bother to respond. He simply ignored the warning, his light blue eyes continuing to cut through the sea of guests until his annoyed expression suddenly froze. The irritation vanished from his face, replaced by a sudden, intense focus.
Across the room, Leansei felt a violent, heavy thud explode against his ribs. His heart hammered erratically as his gray eyes locked directly onto the beautiful, mercurial blue-tinted gaze of Xerchin.
Panicking, Leansei immediately tore his eyes away, pretending he hadn't seen the man at all. He forced himself to look down, aggressively tuning back into the talkative Corshe, who was happily detailing the flavor profiles of the snacks on the buffet table.
But their fragile peace was shattered when a towering shadow fell over them. Corshe paused mid-sentence, his eyes widening as he looked up, before casting a deeply confused glance back at Leansei.
Leansei remained entirely expressionless, his blood running cold as he raised his chin to confront Tyvan standing directly in front of them.
"You're... you're that guy from back at the university hall, right?" Corshe asked hesitantly, sensing the immediate, suffocating tension rolling off the two boys.
Leansei closed his eyes, letting out a long, trembling breath through his nose. He had been so entirely consumed by his chaotic feelings for Xerchin that he had completely forgotten a brutal fact: Tyvan was also born into a prominent elite family. He had wanted nothing more than to completely cut ties and erase Tyvan from his life, but standing here trapped in high society, the agonizing truth settled over him. He couldn't just run away. This life, these history-laden connections—they didn't belong to him at all.
A few meters away, Xerchin's body went completely rigid the exact microsecond he spotted Tyvan cornering Leansei and Corshe near the buffet. He could see from the rigid line of Leansei's shoulders that the boy was deeply uncomfortable.
His jaw clenching, a dangerous aura began to flare around Xerchin's blazer. He took one aggressive step forward, fully intending to march across the marble floor and tear Tyvan away from him. But before he could take a second step, a frantic hand shot out. Seleigh reached over, her fingers firmly wrapping around Xerchin's forearm to violently halt his advance.
Xerchin stopped dead in his tracks. He slowly lowered his head, casting a freezing, lethal stare down at her fingers clamping his sleeve.
"P-please... don't go over there," Seleigh whispered, her voice trembling slightly as she sharply averted her gaze, refusing to meet his terrifying eyes.